Don't you just hate morning talk show hosts? You're hungover, you feel like crap, and they're bubbly, they're up at 6 am. I just want to shoot them. I'm sure we've all internalized the--what's that city in Colorado? Columbine.--the Columbine fantasy. For me it would either be child stars or morning talk show hosts. I just want to mow them down, you know? Forgive me my perversity.

(about a film clip) This is the delirium that accompanies ODing. I'm sure some of you know what that feels like.

Those were both said by one of my professors, whose class I only go to anymore to hear the wonderful things he comes up with.

An anecdote:
For over a week now I've been getting voicemails from this guy who yells at someone named Anna for not showing up wherever. The first several times, I didn't pick up because I screen my calls. Later, when I started recognizing the number, I'd unfortunately miss his calls because I was in the bathroom, in class, sleeping, whatever. He called this morning and told Anna that her cell phone was shit. I called back and I got his voicemail (he's a whiny, nasal guy named Brian, and he's kind of an asshole, actually). I left a message telling him that he's been calling me (and I reiterated my number), not Anna, and the way he could tell this is because my voicemail says, "This is Kerry's cell phone." I asked him to check with Anna and start calling her phone, because we'd all be a lot happier then. I was firm and a little condescending (if you repeatedly call a cell phone where the voicemail identifies it as belonging to someone else, but you leave the message for your person anyway, you can't be too bright), but generally polite. If he calls again, I figure I can lay into him.

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