The freelance thing is finally working out, which is exactly what ReadBecca wanted all along. ReadBecca knew she couldn't live on a minimum wage job and a full-time gig would interfere with school. ReadBecca has been biding her time while those around her did the freaking out. ReadBecca is cool under pressure, except that time she made Fiona and Stefanie go with her on the Match.com date. She was definitely freaking out then.
Now ReadBecca is obsessed with El Centro College and their tricky ways. ReadBecca was forced to take a placement test to get into the Algebra class she absolutely must complete this summer. However. Practice questions provided by advising office in no way resembled actual test. Those. Mother. Effing. Bastards.
Let's make that tests, plural. Because there were two math tests, only one of which she expected. One of which ReadBecca sailed through. The other of which ReadBecca scored a 19. 19. The average age of a Viet Nam soldier. Nnnnnnnineteen.
ReadBecca is outraged. And pissed off. Because the part she passed was THE ALGEBRA PART. The part she failed was whatever that math is that you have to do functions and sine and cosine. Is that trigonometry? ReadBecca has no idea. Because it wasn't on the practice test provided by the advising office. Practice questions covered stuff like decimals and solving for x. Not a graph of the slope of y in sight.
Imagine DisRespecca's dismay when she saw the + shaped graphing questions when she was expecting to turn decimals into percents. So even though she passed the algebra portion, they won't let her in. ReadBecca will never take trig, BTW. It isn't on the nursing school curriculum. She. Just. Needs. Algebra. For. God's. Sake.
They want to send her to remedial math (the "highest level of remedial math" to be exact, which just makes me King of the Dipshits), which is no good because ReadBecca already has a class scheduled for that time. ReadBecca can't try again until after next Thursday, because that's the end of the semester and you can only take a placement exam once a semester. ReadBecca is also considering the Advanced Placement exam, which is totally different from the Are You Stupid? Placement Exam, so she doesn't have to take the effing class at all.
The third option is to take remedial math, which will leave her a prereq short of the nursing school admissions requirements, which means she will have to wait an entire year to start nursing school. And that also means that ReadBecca must let the morons beat her. ReadBecca would rather die than be bested by someone she is smarter than.
So you can see how the level of rage is rising due to the incompetence of an office that gives incomplete, inaccurate information. ReadBecca hates hates hates people who can't think creatively, who can't think at least three moves ahead, who can't innovate, who make her jump through hoops for no good reason. ReadBecca also wants them to stop asking her when she's planning to take English Composition. Just writing that down made me pause because of the red haze blocking my view of the screen.
ReadBecca feels much better having ranted today. She's been pissed off since Monday. You know that kind of pissed off frustration that makes women cry at the office? ReadBecca hasn't felt that since she left the 9 to 5 world three months ago. It took a community college to break her.
Also, ReadBecca saw Collin Farrell in a magazine with some other girl. Son of a bitch. I stood by him for years and now that he's been to rehab, he gets all cozy with some redhead who never had to deal with his crap. Totally. Unfair.
And another thing, why can't ReadBecca find a Lemon Chill for sale anywhere?
Bonus Aside:
I saw an ice cream truck at a stoplight Monday. It had something called an Ice Tickle for sale. I had a boyfriend once who liked a good Ice Tickle every now and again.
No comments:
Post a Comment