Posted by: Steph | February 28, 2006

Being Mean

Right now I am in Marketplace writing an essay proposal for my “Issues in Arts & Cultural Management” class. Actually, as you can tell, I am not writing the proposal at this exact moment.

Song of the day: Melissa Ferrick: Till You’re Dead
This song is AMAZING – especially if you’re a girl and you need an energy fix. The guitar rhythm is fast and I am sitting down at my computer right now but I secretly want to jump up and dance. Best quote from the song: ” And I know my life it is sort of out of control
But you know my mind goes faster…Than any car on the road”

Undergrads are loud and irritating. How do we get them to go and play somewhere else. Frankly, they should be broadening their minds and hanging out with people doing stuff other than business. Get out little undergrads.

Oh look – how ironic, I was being mean and the title of this post is “being mean” but the mean part was supposed to be something different. Must be me using the power of suggestion on myself.

Being mean, today I had a group meeting and I was in charge. In this group there is one member who has consistently under-delivered. Now yes…all disclaimers… as a group we tried all of the wonderful tricks to give him/her every incentive and motivation to contribute, but he/she keeps doing nothing at all. In fact, he/she must have so much free time. Back to the point. i was in charge and I decided to push a little (maybe a lot) more than we usually do with this person. As usual, this person had not done what we had assigned, but instead of letting it pass, I pushed it. Past the aggressive response that usually makes us decide that it is easier to not deal with him. I felt mean – but I suppose, it is less mean to be direct that to screw over the rest of your group consistently. Why do I feel a bit like the bad guy? I shouldn’t. Is it because girls are conditioned to always be “nice”? Now I requested that he/she properly do the assignment and email it to me by Wednesday. Let’s see what happens. If he does it, maybe that means that I should have just found my inner bitch a little sooner. I’ll keep you posted.



  1. I figured out who it is! I think. It’s kind of like finding a flower somewhere in the middle of a patch of wallpaper. Just sorta blends in.
    Meanwhile here I am commenting/reading because I’d rather flirt with failure than force my brain back into the accounting book. I don’t need to know to make the fucking balance sheet. That’s what bean counters are for. Preferably hot ones. That can also give foot massages. But I digress.

    Today I heard a news report about a man who claimed that he didn’t need to be registered under the sex offender’s act because he had sex with a goat. Since it wasn’t a human, it doesn’t count, he said. Poor goat. At least the Sudanese guy was made to marry the goat he slept with. Somehow though, I don’t know whether to feel sorry for him or the goat.
    My question however is, how does one tell which goat one would potentially want to sleep with? I mean, all goats look the same to me. And I had a pet goat once. Or possibly several, all named Cleopatra. But point being, do people just sort of wander about and suddenly think ‘Oh bloody hell, what a hot piece of… goat?’ What is it about goats anyway? I would assume there’d be a decent amount of gymnastics involved in working out the height difference, but then again there’s a mental picture I don’t really want to process.

    Anyway, back to accounting. Woe.

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