financial aid and rants and raves

An ode to Summer, that fine season when a young man's fancy turns to the ultimate question: is she wearing a thong or is she commando? We can meditate for hours on this stuff, all the while mainating the look of a placid Golden Retreiver. It's a gift. Seriously, I've seen enough miniskirts to haunt my (pleasant) dreams, which is good, 'cause I'm not getting any action otherwise. One thing: when did plumber's crack become fashionable for chicks? I'm not complaining, but it is weird. I first really noticed it on the abortion of TV: the Ashlee Simpson show. MTV blurred out the top of her ass and I couldn't figure out why. Now I know. I also know why I no longer watch television. Point blank: TV sucks. If I watch 3 hours a week it's a miracle. Good thing I get free cable. Anyway, it's the hight of summer registration and everyone who blew off doing their financial aid must now wait 5 1/2 hours only to find out they are not ready to be packaged and they'll need to come back tomorrow and wait another 5 1/2 hours. The looks are priceless. Wait were you idiots waiting for?! An engraved invite? At this point it's their fault, and I have no pity. I'm also working the Ren Faire in Tuxedo Park, NY and that is a trial in itself. Last year I made a small fortune but didn't save it, and now that I'm trying to conserve funds and making shit. I deference to my earlier posts I won't even bring up the weather other than to mention the heat index for the weekend was over 100 both days. Ah, sweet irony, the choice of a jaded generation, much like coffee. Anyway, my lunch is almost up and I must attend to my duties: financial aid (note I did NOT say working miracles for those who did not plan ahead.) Thus today's motto: Lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part.