Report Card

Let's get off the Tax-Exempt Organization Abuses train for a minute and talk about my grades. On my SALT (State and Local Taxation) midterm from two weeks ago, the instructor provided ample opportunity for extra-credit. I took him up on his offer and got one hundred and seven points out of one hundred on the test. Today I received my mid-term grade for the Tax-Exempt class -- one hundred and five points out of one hundred and no extra credit questions on that test. And I am not even making this shit up.

Lord knows I am so ready to be done with my degree and be done with school. But when it is all over, what am I going to do without grades? [Whimper]. I need grades to let me know what an awesome job I am doing and/or overdoing. I need grades to stress me out and then make me feel relieved. I need grades to motivate my ass and reward my brain. You complete me, grades.

What if there were official grades for life? The dentist told me last week that my three wisdom teeth need to come out. After performing a thorough work survey of wisdom tooth extraction experiences and doing some light research on WebMD, it has come to my attention that I should have NOT done those things as I am now officially scared shitless. You could not be more scared than I am of getting wisdom teeth pulled. A+ for scared shitlessness. One hundred and five points out of one hundred for falling for guys that don't or can't want me back. Relishing reading and music? Double A, triple plus. Taking pride in my amateur photography attempts -- Smiley Face :) 

The one area where I would take a hit has got to be gift wrapping. Wrapping gifts. If I ever have any real or imaginary children -- let's call them Anton, Peter, and Lucie -- they will each be severely disappointed with Mama's crappy job of wrapping those perfectly square and rectangular boxes. Crinkled paper, pieces of box sticking out on one side and 5 extra layers of paper on the other, tape crisscrossing the entire mess. SEE MINUS.