Hooker: Well, the little guy was kinda funny-lookin'.
Marge Gunderson: In what way?
Hooker: I dunno, just funny-lookin'.
Marge Gunderson: Can you be any more specific?
Hooker: I couldn't really say. He wasn't circumcised.
Marge Gunderson: Was he funny lookin' apart from that?
Steve Buscemi: Funny Lookin'.There has been a recurring theme at our Sunday family dinners: what to do about our old dog Chloe (and when to do it). I don't like the way things are currently being handled, with everyone just in complete denial and with my dad yelling if the subject gets brought up (I guess he's more comfortable with anger than with sadness), but when my mother asked me if I thought it was time for her to be put down I suddenly became very worried that they would act on my concerns. I think my dilemma is that I feel I am the only one in the family to see that she is in pain most of the time and so I feel I have to be her advocate, but at the same time I don't want to be responsible for making the final decision. I want the roles to be reversed, with my parents having to convince me it's time while I resent them for their heartlessness. Our family has never had a geriatric pet before. None of us are handling it well.
Little Pisspot and the old girl spending some quality time together. I think I have something in my eye. *sniff*
I got roped into doing Meals on Wheels today. All-volunteer workforce, my arse. I did get a nifty petrol voucher and got to listen to old people stories and crazy folk rants, so that's something.
So there went my relaxing day. I had work in the morning, a meeting, then I was going to laze around for a few hours, maybe play a little sims, do a little lesson planning, bake some muffins for my suddenly adorable students, then head off to the school to meet with my mentor and organise my weekly planner for next week. Instead I got to my meeting and was recruited for MoW, rushed around town to stop in on aforementioned feebs and crazies, then rushed home, shoved a pikelet in my mouth, rushed over to the school, and ended up there until 7 pm.
As my final year goes on (quickly, it seems. I can't believe it's already May!) I am caught between feeling very scared of the impending job hunt and loss of the structured life that is university and feeling restless to begin the next stage. It's both exilerating and terrifying to think that this time next year I could be teaching my own class and closing escrow on my own place. But before that I have to study hard, graduate, apply for jobs, be rejected from many job applications, persevere, make a fool of myself in interviews, drown my sorrows, take constructive criticism, work on my weakness, and somehow succeed. That sounds like a lot of work, so instead I have focussed on glory boxing. Last week, table lamps. This week, who knows. Chopping boards? Draining rack? Bed?
And now for something completely different: two sims gossiping about a mutual friend. Watch the hand movements. They totally make the 'faygele' gesture.