Let's talk about the good ol days of graduate school

Inspiration. I has it.

A few weeks ago, when I started seeing the light after my "dark days" of being kept awake all night by a baby sleep terrorist, I had a conversation with Hutch about how amazing grad school was. I told her she deserved a Master's Degree in Inspiration for inspiring me.

And inspire she has.

Since that day, I've been trying to put together the best stories from grad school before they leave my mind completely. I'm afraid no matter what I write, I can't do it justice. That maybe it was a "you just had to be there" situation. But  I owe it to her, and you all, to at least give it the 'ol college try.

I decided to go to grad school on a whim. Actually, it was because I couldn't find a job and decided the next best thing was to delay adulthood a couple more years, do a little more book learnin' and become a pretentious snob who could later say "I have a MASTERS DEGREE. I shouldn't have to FAX THIS DOCUMENT for you."

My bachelor's degree is in Journalism. I decided to shake it up a little and get my Masters in Communication Studies. The difference between the two? Journalism is the practice, Communications is the ART. The noble study of the written word; theories about human communication and interaction; heady, intense debates about the minutia of verbal and nonverbal speech.

If Journalism is meat and potatoes, Communications is Saffron-Infused Polenta Stuffed Artichokes from a new fusion restaurant: over the top, complicated, not exactly what you expected and will probably leave you hungry after the meal.

So let me introduce you to the cast of characters in the communications department:

Dr. C. B. - Feisty older lady knockin' on retirement's door. She's been in the department since the beginning of time, has seen it all and acts accordingly. You're either her friend or her foe; nothing in between. In fact, her opinions are all  polarizing, from thoughts about women in positions of power (HELLS YES) to her thoughts about Detroit ("I wish we could put Detroit in a bubble and just nuke it. Nothing there but drug dealers.") Super old school, and you can tell because she says "oriental" instead of "Asian" and even though the building has been non-smoking for 5 years, she still smokes in her office because IT'S HER OFFICE AND SHE CAN DO WHAT SHE WANTS. Specialty is consulting. Also? She was awesome.

Dr. E - Head of the department and acts thusly. If your political ideals don't sit firmly on the left of middle, don't bother trying because you probably won't get an A. Bossy, rude and if I may be so blunt? Super scary.  Specialty: political communications.

Dr. Bookie - Bookie's wife cheated on him but they still stayed together. Instead of talking it over with his wife and healing his broken heart, he takes it out on the females in his class. His barely concealed misogynistic rage makes him the perfect person to teach INTERPERSONAL CONFLICT class (oh brother).

Dr. W - Although Dr. W taught the most terrifying and mind-numbing required class of grad school, Communication Theory, he was one of my favorite people in the department, and here's why.

Dr. W? Was looney tunes. I mean 100% certified, organic crazy person. I don't know if it was too much acid in the 60s, the brush with death during heart attack a few years earlier or just the mental instability it takes to commit your whole career to studying communication theory, but Dr. W made little to no sense at any point in my class. But at the same time, I totally understood him. Maybe it was because he drew eyes and antennae  on graphs and said they were monsters.

The scene: 2004. November. A few days before the election. Outside, some students were campaigning in the crisp autumn air. Dr. Woods returned from the break from our evening class, knit toboggan askew, Marlboro Lights haphazardly hanging out of the chest pocket in his short sleeved button up dress shirt. He pulled off his worn out jersey jacket and threw it in the chair.

"I JUST SAW.......................................THE MOST WONDERFUL THING!"

Color us all perplexed. We allowed him to continue.

"There are students out there campaigning. I haven't seen this kind of excitement for years! Taking time out of their day to be part of the election process. It's communication theory in action...well it's...just........."

Dr. W proceeded to stare at a spot on the wall for 5 minutes.

Finally he spoke.

"I'm sorry, guys. I just was thinking about how wonderful it is. Young people. Fantastic."

Thirty seconds passed.

"Amazing."

He ran his hands through his thinning gray hair, making it defy gravity.

"Guys, I can't continue this class. I'm just so overjoyed. Class dismissed for today. GO OUT AND ENJOY BEING YOUNG AND LIVING IN AMERICA!"

And so we all went out and enjoyed being young and living in America.

Where there was beer.

Oh, I can't believe it took so long to mention the beer. There was beer, friends. Any time of the day  or night there was beer. Beer and good times, always, every day. Not that I partook every day, but I do have to say there were several nights when my dinner happened after my 6 PM class dismissed and it included cheese fries and beer.

The good times trumped the beer, though.

A few friends and I at the Union, circa 2004. That's me with long, blonde hair.

There were also tailgates and football games; emphasis on tailgates because my bff JP and I never once stepped foot in the stadium. Instead, we'd "babysit" our friend's tailgate set-up, make beer can pyramids and "listen" to the game. This particular tailgate spot was in the stadium lot, mere feet from the game. 

One time, we rolled up with our tailgate contribution and she wasn't parked in the usual spot. It didn't stop us at all when we found out she was out of town and wouldn't be bringing her car -- who says you need a car to tailgate? We brought our folding chairs and a cooler and tailgated anyway. Turns out, all you need to tailgate is a cooler of beer and some homemade cheese dip.

It's a tailGREAT when we're running the show.

By the end of grad school, things were settling down. We were all older. Grading papers and applying for jobs took the place of bar trivia and staying out until 3. I met my husband and my priorities were shifted. Graduation day came and went and we moved into our new roles: wives, mothers, career women.

But memories from grad school will always have a safe place in my heart.

And now I present to Hutch the It's Blogworthy University MA in Inspiration -- suitable  for framing or placing on your blog.

The day I went crazy over a banana

I love bananas.

I eat a banana every day for my mid-morning snack. You know, because of my ravenous monster baby. And although I'd rather eat a hash brown or cookie, I try to stick with healthy stuff while I'm at work. It's so people wont' get all judgy with me.

I'd also like to say that eating this daily banana has kept me from having ridiculously painful evening leg cramps. A little free advice to other pregs out there from me. You're welcome.

(When I typed "cramps", I first spelled it c-r-a-p-s, something else you other pregs are probably intimately familiar with. I almost left it like that.)

Anyway. Bananas.

I got this bunch of bananas at the store the other day. Actually, I almost put them back on the banana shelf because the top two in the bunch were enormous. Like, they made me physically uncomfortable to look at. I'm thinking to myself, that's like a banana and a half -- who can eat a banana that large?

But I brought it to work with me and had to capture the moment for Twitter.

It's as long as my keyboard! I mean seriously!

This is where all y'all who aren't on Twitter are gonna get jealous. My Twat friends saw this picture yesterday. Along with this status.

Then Surferwife got into it. She was the ONLY person who commented on my big banana, and I am ashamed for the rest of you. I thought for sure I'd get some kind of reaction from you closet pervs but whatever. Surferwife is pretty much my main instigator and troublemaker on Twitter. She's like my friend in college that would sit with me and talk the whole time so we'd both get in trouble.

Later I tried to bribe Liz with a gigantic banana into making her response to me her 10,000th Tweet. I was 9,992. But apparently she just doesn't like big bananas.

Later than that, Surferwife told me I was out of control and it was the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

So what's the point of this random blog?

1. Bananas are delicious.
2. Sometimes they are too large.
3. If you don't have Twitter or use it regularly, you're seriously missing out on awesome stuff like this.
4. I can make a blog entry out of just about anything, apparently.
5. This post is bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S. (What one of you did not have that song already running through your head? We cannot be friends if you didn't.)

I'm sure you sickos have lots to say about this banana post, try to keep your heads out of the gutters as you are responding lest I write a blog about my love of the word "balls".

What's your favorite fruit? Do you have Twitter? Would you like to follow me (it's @amandaaustin). Are you disappointed that I haven't written for, like, a week, and I put up gibberish like this?

I'm in love with a grocery store AKA my best friend is back

I think my love of Publix supermarkets has been well documented in this blog.

Basically, it's the best grocery store ever. You walk into a Publix and just feel happy. It's bright and cheery and clean. All the employees greet you with a smile. The produce is fresh and so is the meat. Prices can be high, but they have Buy-on-get-one-free specials every week on really good stuff, and their coupon policy is amazing -- like they will literally take any old coupon you scrape off the sidewalk, even if it's for a lesser grocery store like Piggly Wiggly or Winn-Dixie. Yes, I live in the South.

For instance, let's say there is BOGO on Cheetos, and you have two coupons for 50 cents off one bag of Cheetos. You get to use BOTH coupons. And then Winn-Dixie put out a coupon for $1 off your next salty snack purchase. And Cheetos are $3 per bag. So then you walk your happy butt up to the register and say, "I'd like these Cheetos, good sir, and here are my coupons." You proudly hand them over and watch the savings.

Cheetos	$3
Cheetos	$3
- Promotion: Cheetos BOGO	- $3
Vendor Coupon	- .50
Vendor Coupon	- .50
Competitor Coupon	- $1
Total
	$1

Who doesn't want a receipt  that looks like that? A crazy person with more money than sense, that's who.

And the very best part about Publix? It's the Publix Promise, which means if it rings up wrong, well my friend, you get that bad boy for free. AND it applies to BOGOs -- if they ring up wrong, you get them BOTH free.

Publix is basically the most magical place on earth.

So you can see why we'd be devastated when our local Publix, not a half-mile from our house, closed for renovations. It was like our best friend told us they were going to Europe for 9 months. We were bummed, but knew it was the best. For personal growth. I mean, we had other friends...friends located not even 2 miles from our house that were perfectly nice, clean and friendly, but we know our BEST friend like the back of our hand. This metaphor is quickly getting *wonky*. THIS IS WHAT PUBLIX MAKES ME DO.

Last Thursday was the grand opening for our Publix and it lived up to every expectation I had. Except that there was a line to get in. People were greeting each other, getting teary, definitely smiling a lot.

My coworkers and I showed up bright and early at 8 am - they all live close-by and it's "their" Publix, too - and it was life changing. Spectacular. You walk in and there is a whole display of apples and colorful fruit; a full-service bakery with delights such as freshly filled cannoli and pizza dough; a deli where you can buy subs and meat and cheese; a sushi stand, I mean it goes on and on.

This is what it looks like..magnificent , huh?

We had a feast that morning fit for a king: cinnamon roll samples, donuts, orange juice, steak, pumpkin ice cream. And I don't think I need to tell you that I had some major heartburn for the rest of the day. WORTH IT.

And then I got my picture taken with the Publix mascot. His name is Plato....THE PUBLIXSAURS. Guys, I can't even make that up.

Um, excuse my double chin and HUGE belly, it's my baby's fault.

I had such a great time that I went with Hubby that evening and it was almost a beautiful disaster. Brand new grocery store + fully stocked shelves X two hungry people with no list = bad news

Do you have a Publix nearby? Does the name of this store make you slightly uncomfortable? Where do you shop? Have you ever had a shopping experience quite like this one?

Getting my word on! Check it out and play along!