Oh what a night

I knew shenanigans were to ensue when I wore my supercute boob shirt from New York & Co (thanks Smith!) despite knowing there was a fair chance I'd run into half the department at the thesis reading. I knew more trouble was to follow when a certain professor I'd been avoiding sought out my future husband. And when he left for a refill, and I sat alone at the table like the last of the herd, she circled and moved in.

Professor I'd been avoiding: "I sense you've been avoiding me."
Me: "Um, yeah, a little." (A whole lot!! You've basically been telling me I suck for the last two semesters. I spent all of yesterday bawling because you think I'm incapable of producing a decent review of lit.)
Evil Professor in a confrontational, not-so-very-Minnesotan-voice-because-she's-from-the-ghettos-of-New-York-and-thus-she'd-sound-like-a-disgruntled-cab-driver-even-if-singing-"Happy Birthday"-to-a-three-year-old: "Well look at my comments. You can do this. You've already done the research."
Me (Caving like the wussy, passive-aggressive tater tot hotdish eating native Minnesotan I am): "Yes. After rereading your comments I agree with you and I know I can get it right if I just spend some more time revising it." (And if I promise to give away my first born to some magical lit review writin' troll.)

I pondered a repeat of our last ladies night when I chose the same booth where spendid girl-on-girl action took place. I was not disappointed. Of course, I had to wait until our trip to the strip club to fulfill that one. We got there, and I started to pull out my ID and a couple bucks for cover. The lady at the door declared I used to work there and need not pay. Things were turning out.

Ok, I used my alloted blogging time for the day. See Smith's for the rest. Nothing new. Just that a certain wet t-shirt contest participant spent the remainder of the night on my couch. It was hot.