1. Such an astounding concentration of douchebaggery in one tiny-little grad student housing apartment can be so overwhelming.
2. These conditions could have be mitigated somewhat had I been roaring drunk – unfortunately, two tiny glasses of wine and a cookie consumed at the mixer earlier in the evening doth not a roaring drunk make.
3. Having one more person ask me to explain exactly what musicology is would have possibly pushed me towards, if not over, the edge.
4. Two different guys, within the span of half an hour, explained to me that the main reason they were going to grad school for chemistry was “I really like explosions, you know?”
5. A bubble bath and the new issue of Bust were waiting at home.
(Also – mad props go out to the new issue of Bust because it is super great. Bust had been worrying me somewhat recently, for various reasons, but this issue is really quite good (or at least better than of late) and features a sort of chubby model in the fashion spread, less heteronormativity in the sex section, and what seems like piles more content than usual, for some reason, including articles on the history of flight attendants – which is timely considering the recent Southwest debacle; a really balanced piece on arranged marriages in India; and super fantastical interviews with Miranda July and Debbie Harry. But most importantly of all – there are instructions for making your very own DIY version of that Damien Hirst skull.) (Although my favourite work by that guy is still the whole ridiculous Stalin thing, which would also be pretty easy to knock off. If you had a big picture of Stalin.)
Yeah, I was in a music ed seminar in which one of the other students cited a research published in Cosmo.
The professor caught my eye and rolled his.
It seems that not all grad students…should be…
Oh dear. That’s a new low.