Who knew that re-learning fractions and quadratic equations could take over my life and turn me into such a gelatinous pile of shit?
I finally took the leap and started studying for the most wretched test known man, also known as the graduate business school entrance exam, or the GMAT. Yes, I'm going to graduate business school - a Master of Science in Marketing - to be exact, and one of the first steps is to pay $250 to take this goddamn test that doesn't measure anything relevant to business besides maybe my ability to not have a complete mental breakdown. I'm doing OK so far aside from the whole dreaming in story problems thing and occasionally screaming "I DON'T UNDERSTAND! MOTHERFUCKER!" at the giant book of algebra problems in my lap while studying. I'm relearning something I sucked at in the first place, so I'm pretty happy about it as you can tell. The verbal portion is obviously not as evil.
But, it's my own fault. I only gave myself about six weeks to study for this thing that I will hopefully take in mid-October, so I can start working on the next step - applications. It probably would have been helpful to, you know, light a fire under my own ass back in April when I was laid off, but I was too busy with that whole I-suck-at-life feeling that being laid off gives you. I've tossed the idea of going back to school around since I graduated from undergrad, but being out of work for five months with only one interview really has made me realize that I need something more and the time to do it is now.
It's difficult and scary, yet appealing to picture my life less than a year from now since there are no schools in the area that offer the program I want and I'll have to move. Less than a year from now I will no longer be a resident of Kansas City and while my family is here and is the most important thing to me, two once fleeting thoughts will turn into reality and be realized at the same time because of this decision. It will be good for me in numerous ways.
Besides being a slave to the bitch ass GMAT, I've had quite a month in my blogging hiatus:
- In mid-August, a few friends and I took a weekend to join the debauchery that is "Riverdiddle," a float down the Elk River that involves a whole hell of a lot more than floating and beer.
During a stop at Wal-Mart in Nevada, MO on the way down, the organizer Steve actually got a Wal-Mart employee to announce "Attention Riverdiddle 2009, 20 minutes," over the loud speaker. However, it was hard to pay attention since I still had flashes of smooshed-against-the-car-window white butts in my head from the drive down. So much mooning. Not to mention the set of boobies that voluntarily escaped from a veteran Riverdiddler's t-shirt and traveled down the line of cars not only giving our convoy a show, but the lucky truck driver behind us all while stopped at the train crossing in Ft. Scott, Kansas.
This year's theme was to interpret the number 7, pretty much in relation to the seven deadly sins yet our group really wanted to wear horned viking helmets, so we chose the 7th Century.
However I think Ethel, the blow up doll, with three "pleasure holes" was my favorite theme on the trip as she represented the 8th deadly sin - Inflation. She was one scandalous bi-atch and aided in much naughty activity on the trip. Needless to say, she came off the river involuntarily deflated and crumpled in a cooler.
- At the end of August, all of my planning came together in the culmination, which has been called, "The Best White Trash Bachelorette Bash ever." Nothing but the best for my dear friend Kate, who actually specifically requested a white trash party for her bachelorette months ago. Complete with a costume contest, beer tasting contest, pinata full-o-trash, a rousing game of flip cup, beer bongs, white trash trivia and squeeze cheese, this party flipped the traditional, girly and classy bachelorette party the bird, performed a WWF move on it then farted on it's head.
After all this, we climbed on a bus and graced Kansas City with our faux boob tattoos and jorts. I think the bus driver, who was actually about five years older than us and graduated from my high school, was slightly frightened by our antics, especially when we scream sang Tenacious D's "Fuck Her Gently" in route. Apparently Kate's parents' were also serenaded by the same song since her ass decided to call them right at that moment.
Nobody will ever be the same after that party, especially Whittah who barfed up about six pounds of "meat candy" - lil smokies wrapped in bacon and drenched in brown sugar - a few hours post-party. I believe the phrase, "I will never be able to eat that again," was used. Mmmm, delicious.
- With all this "spare time," I started a little homemade business off the notion that "I like this and I could totally make it." It turns out - I can and other people like it too. True to You Productions, which so far has unconventional wrist cuffs and greeting cards is still in it's tiny, budding stages, but I hope to have a Web site up as soon as I get this GMAT out of the way.
And, now, I'm going to try to shut off the GMAT story problem dreams and get some sleep since I have the ultimate pleasure of catching a flight to the fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada tomorrow. Not only am I crapping my pants with excitement over this trip since it will be the first time I've visited of legal age (fourth time total), but also because the whole point of the excursion is to watch my best friend get married on Saturday. I nearly shed tears earlier today when I thought about it because this is such a huge event in her life and for some reason the thought of marriage never seemed real to me until now.
Like we've been saying for months, Kate and Sam's wedding is the number one event going on at the MGM Grand this Saturday...the second is the minuscule Mayweather Jr. vs. Marquez fight, which will attract most of the celebrity guests who weren't aware of the wedding, but will surely choose to attend the reception rather than the fight. Lacey and I will ride the elevators up and down repeatedly in full stalker/star struck mode just to make sure they do.
Viva Las Vegas!