Crazy Coincidences

So I was on Netflix browsing through some movies to watch on my xbox and saw a movie with a familiar ring to it:

The movie cover alone was enough to make me laugh but it only got funnier as I kept looking. First the subtitle and then the synopsis provided by netflix. It was like something out of Balderdash.

"A Boy and His Dog"

Psycho Boy and His Killer Dog, Apocalypse 2024

Vic (a young Don Johnson) roams a postapocalyptic wasteland accompanied by his telepathic, ever-grumbling dog, eventually winding up in the clutches of a female-dominated underground society that wants his sperm. This low-budget cult film remains darkly humorous and unflinchingly brutal as its characters face difficult choices -- and the end of the world as they know it.

I watched a few minutes of it and decided I couldn't waste an entire 90 minutes of it but it was hilarious. Apparently the telepathic dog doesn't like walking around too much as the "boy" had to carry him on his back across the wasteland like yoda while the dog telepathically told jokes about rape. So bizarre. I didn't realize I was stealing the name of my blog from something. I thought it sounded a little familiar but I never thought it would end up being something like this. Haha. Also, I picked the title because I planned on having more stuff involving Butters but as it turns out she hasn't been doing too many funny things lately. Maybe her writers are on strike, I dunno. But I do know that once the apocalypse rolls around she'll be a valuable member of the team. She likes to hoard food. We found a bag of Pupperoni in her bed a while ago. Any other dog would have ripped it to shreds and eaten the treats, but she was forward thinking enough to hide it and save it for later when she'll really need it. So she uses her bed for food storage and my bed for sprawling out on.

She's lucky she's cute and doesn't shed.

Happy Birthday Mom!

Some time ago on January 14 my mom was born. It was a pretty important event because she would go on to eventually give birth to me and take care of me. Pretty much all that I am is because of her, so you can send your letters of complaint gratitude to her.

Baby Mom

College Mom

Present Day Mom

I love you mom! Happy Birthday!

It Never Ends...

Finally got all of my grades for the past semester. Good news in all classes but one.

Of course the one class with the least credit to gain and the most crap to give would keep giving it even after it is over. I had questions about how I would be graded before the class was over. The teacher had a score sheet posted showing each week's newspaper issue and you'd get a check mark for every issue you contributed to. The oversight in that class is horrible so the score sheet of course did not show everyone's true contributions. I did something every week for the paper and only had 2 check marks. I asked him before the semester was over if he was going to be using that for grading. He said he was going to use it in considering grades so I told him it wasn't accurate. He told me not to worry about it. I assumed that he meant he knew how much I had done and I had nothing to worry about as far as grades go. Well, Christmas Eve I logged on to check my grades and I got a lovely surprise. He gave me a C. I felt very much like muttering a long sentence of expletives like Clark Griswold. I'm not sure how he came up with it. I have a stack of newspapers with my stuff circled that I can drop on his desk, so I doubt he flipped through each issue trying to decide my grade. He didn't speak to the editors that I worked with because they surely would have vouched for me, and I've spoken to them and they back me. So it appears that what's standing between me and my first 4.0 is a 1 unit newspaper class and a teacher with a mystery grading system. I know a 3.8 is nothing to gripe about, but I worked really hard this semester and I feel really gypped. I'm going to try to get it changed, but attempting to go through that maze of teachers and administrators who all say they hear this all the time and are powerless to do anything is going to be a nightmare.