This has been making the blog rounds lately so I figured I'd give it a go. Oh, the ways I procrastinate....

Accent: Still hanging on to a bit of that Calgary twang.

Booze: Dry white wine.

Chore I Hate: Anything bathroom related.

Dog or Cat: Cats, for now.

Essential Electronics: Computer, my iPod Shuffle and the dishwasher.

Favorite Cologne: Anything orange.

Gold or Silver: White gold.

Hometown: Grew up in Calgary.

Insomnia: Sometimes.

Job Title: PhD student, not-so-bohemian bum.

Kids: Not yet.

Living arrangements: Me; the husband; Tess, the devil cat; Hilde, the owly-bulldog cat.

Most admirable traits: Perseverance, loyalty, playfulness.

Number of sexual partners: Right now, just the husband!

Overnight hospital stays: Does waiting all night in the ER count?

Phobias: Moths; any bug that jumps.

Quote: "Everyone looks retarded once you set your mind to it."--David Sedaris; "Most people do not really want freedom, because freedom involves responsibility, and most people are frightened of responsibility." --Sigmund Freud; "Work is the Curse of the Drinking Classes." --Oscar Wilde

Religion: Recovering Catholic.

Siblings: One older sister.

Time I wake up: erm, when I have to pee?

Unusual talent or skill: I can put my leg behind my head.

Vegetable I love: Broccoli. Good ol' broc.

Worst habit: Nail biting; worrying in general.

X-rays: Left ankle (twice), right ankle, both hips, both knees, teeth (multiple times), neck.

Yummy foods I make: Fried chicken; chicken paprikash; shrimp linguini alfredo; fresh bread.

Zodiac sign: Leo.

After weeks of asking, the husband finally found out he didn't get into uni-of-choice for his PhD. Yesterday he recieved an email saying he would know by the end of the week. Of course, he had just finished sending a rather stern email that basically said "fuck the ego protection -- I want to know if I'm being dumped." The Dear John arrived soon after. Clearly the results were available, so why not just send them? Dumbasses. However, it's nice to know where you won't be living in 4 months time.

I am still trying to write conference papers. I am still plugging away at my exam reading list. I am currently being weaned off an anti-anxiety medication that was raising my blood pressure (and thus upping my anxiety) and fighting off intense hypochondriac impulses (am I having a heart attack? Nope, just need to burp). I am enjoying the spring weather and looking forward to the weekend. I would love to have a pint on a patio -- any takers?

I always see stats about how many hours of one's life are spent sleeping, eating, walking, etc. But how much is spent waiting? If you're an academic (or a prospective academic), I'd wager that about 30% of your life is spent waiting. For instance, I recieved an email reply 6 weeks after I'd sent the original question, and organizing any sort of committee takes a minimum of a month, even if everyone is available, ready and willing. I'm fortunately in that my supervisor is always on the ball -- the longest I've ever had to wait for any reply is a weekend -- but it just makes everyone else seem slow and/or totally clueless.

Right now I really have nothing personal I'm waiting for, but the hubster is still waiting to hear from his PhD-uni-of-choice, and noone at said uni seems to think this is a big deal. The secretary and grad chair readily admit to not having results yet, and while I understand that everyone is busy at this time of year (although I'd be hard-pressed to name a time of year, besides June and July, when academics aren't busy), it's the middle of fucking APRIL! Even PhD-uni-of-second-choice hasn't sent out an official letter. The hubster only knows that he didn't get in because he emailed the grad secretary for an update.

Patience is apparently a virtue, but what's so great about it anyway? I'm sure in the grand scheme of things, patience is right up there with not throwing your toenail clippings at other people. I never claimed to be a virtuous person anyway.

A couple Christmases ago I gave the hubster the "Don't be a jerk" postcard as a greeting card. He's not a jerk, but I was trying to find a really out-there card to punch through some of the schmaltz that usually invades the holidays. Plus, it's just plain good advice. I was reminded of the card a few weekends ago, when an undergrad friend of ours was visiting. She's been on leave from Jackass University and is now preparing to head back to get the damn degree over with.

I would like to send this card to JA uni. Actually, I think I'd like to send it to any prof who thinks being a jerk is okay. It's not. Aforementioned friend and I were discussing the university phenomenon of profs who think that because they're kick-ass researchers and leaders in their fields, they are under no obligation to improve their people skills. The fact that people can freely be ignorant, unappreciative, utterly inflexible and often just plain jerks in a teaching profession is astonishing -- and pretty disgusting. Undergrad friend said she noticed such jerkiness was more prevalent amongst male members of the profession, and I think that's true to some extent, depending on the institution you belong to, but I've met a few jerky female profs as well. But undergrad friend also said that men get away with it more often. They're the absent-minded professor! They're really just harmless! Women are nurturers -- they ice your bruised ego and bake you cookies. They're expected to adapt to people-centred roles and they're penalized if they're not. They're shrews and bitches. Meanwhile, absent-minded male professor is known as the cranky but brilliant prof. They must be brilliant if they're such assholes. [/sarcasm].

What I really need is a whole stack of those "Don't be a jerk" postcards. They're the perfect card for any occasion, after all -- a spiffy image and some good solid advice. What more do you need in a greeting card anyway?