If You Don’t Read This, You’re Not Serious About Donkeys

Ooooooooo sweet Jesus has it been a long school term. TECHNICAL WRITING, you guys. An important class, but also a soul-sucking exercise in hellaciously (see bottom of post for a word nerd alert) boring writing. If you don’t know what technical writing involves, think of whatever lucky individuals get to write out every single mundane detail about how to operate your coffee machine: “Push the ON button. Empty the brew basket.” Oh, it was painful.

BUT it’s over now, and I enter my Summer of Homework Freedom armed with lofty plans to shelax, watch So You Think You Can Dance, and deep clean my oven. (Not the one in which I baked my children; the one in which I bake my cupcakes.)

Now I’ll try to sum up for you what I’ve been up to this past term – the things I did when I wasn’t loading (or unloading!) the dishwasher or emptying the brew basket.

livin tha c life

I’ve been seeing on the news lately (because THIS QUALIFIES AS NEWS) that the “o” face I’m pulling is not an acceptable selfie. This photo isn’t a selfie, though, so I feel like I can get away with it. Yes?

If you think I’m crossing some sort of social boundary, your other option is a blurry picture of me on a see-saw, so…make your choice wisely.

1. Things Got Weird During Finals

I don’t feel like I have even shades of an obsessive mental disorder, but something strange happened to me before my psychology final. First, I flossed. At like 1pm. Because suddenly I felt like it would be totally unacceptable to take an exam with even the tiniest quantity of food in my teeth.

Then, while getting coffee on the way to the test, I got hungry. So I bought a chocolate chip cookie, and ate it on the way.

I probably would have gotten an A+ on the final if I had eaten kale instead of a cookie.

I got a B on the final, but I probably would have gotten an A+ if the coffee shop sold kale instead of cookies.

Finals are stressful.

2. A Psychology Textbook Spoiled Me

I know textbooks aren’t usually so deliciously indulgent, but my psychology textbook was wildly readable – there were jokes! and pop culture references! – and it ruined me for all other textbooks.

Human Sexuality, a class that isn’t nearly as racy as it sounds (think gross photos of herpes-infected genitalia), really gave me my money’s worth in Chapter 3, “Communication and Sexuality.”

Thanks to this textbook, which cost roughly 3.5 boxes of diapers, I learned that some of the reasons I struggle to listen to Ryan’s sexual needs are background “conversations, music, and even traffic.” Excellent! I paid tuition, plus the cost of keeping Baby Ham’s poop contained for like 2 months, to tell me that if there is too much noise I might not be able to hear something.


Wait, WHAT? WHY can’t I hear your SEXUAL NEEDS?!

Also, my husband was disappointed that my teacher, FOR SOME REASON, didn’t assign actual sex as homework.

2. Thanks but No Thanks, Weird Old Man in the ER Waiting Room

Speaking of Human Sexuality, I had to make a visit to the ER during the term. It was nothing serious, and I’m all better now, so take your worry pants off (and replace them with spandex!).

In addition to packing a sack lunch, I brought my Human Sexuality textbook with me so the hours in the waiting room wouldn’t be spent on thinking about how crappy I felt while eating bagels and cream cheese. While I sat pondering the spectrum of human sexual behavior, an old-ish man noticed I was reading a textbook. He approached me and offered to “answer any questions I may have!” – in the way old-ish men try to say something clever to young-ish women in shared public spaces.

At this point, I definitely paused, wondering if I should just come out with it and tell him about Corinne Policy #246, which reads:

“Corinne does not have conversations about penises with people she’s known for 30 seconds.”

Instead, I flashed him the book’s cover and said, “I’d actually rather you not.” The man was embarrassed. He thankfully rescinded his offer. His old-ish lady friends laughed at him. And I forgot I about feeling crappy for about 2 minutes.

Look! I found a picture of my textbook for you!

This cover said, “Back off old man you are unintentionally being a pervert” in a way I never could.

3. Changing Diapers Educated Me

One of my techniques for getting through a tough class is to find small ways to amuse myself without wrecking my grade. So when I had to write instructions for something, I chose to write “How to Change a Diaper,” both because I am pretty much an expert and because I can’t pass up an opportunity to make poop references in the name of a college degree.

Here’s a sample line from the paper: “Take the wipe and, gently but firmly, remove the feces from baby’s bottom.”

Yes, everyone. I got an A on this.

4. Nothing Says “Happy Birthday” Like Staring at Caged Animals

One way we can confirm that a) I am old, and b) I live in Baker City is that my burning birthday desire was to take my children on a trip to Boise, Idaho to visit the zoo. AND OBVIOUSLY TO GO TO TARGET. Oh, yeah, I yelled that. I yelled it right in your grandma’s face. That’s my new phrase to replace “boo-yah.” It’s going to be like, “Yeeeah, I got an A in Technical Writing….right in your grandma’s FACE.”

We had a great time. The kids loved seeing real monkeys, Baby Ham fed goats, we ate hamburgers, and B.T. got to slide down a big giraffe neck.


Baby Ham, you will feed this goat, and if you don’t I WILL FORCE YOUR HAND.


Unlike last year, the real giraffes weren’t replaced with giraffe bones. All the bones and all the giraffes were in the cage together. The zoo people probably keep the bones there as a veiled threat.

5. “Then You’re Not Serious About Donkeys”

I stayed up waaaaay too late one night watching clips of Late Night with Jimmy Fallon….the #hashtags segments, the “Do Not Play”  segments, and the  “Do Not Read” segments are awesome.

In the video above, when Jimmy Fallon said stuff about not being serious about donkeys, I lost it and laughed for about 10 minutes, alone, to the point of also sort-of crying. I guess I could also blame that on Technical Writing, but in a good way, like, “thank you for making my brain hurt so badly that when something is finally funny, I release the maximum amount of emotions possible.”

Hey! I think you’ve had enough for now. If I ever get a break from scrubbing down my burners, I plan to induce labor on my WordPress drafts folder so it can give birth to a few posts in its…uterus. I might also work on my gross metaphor tendencies.


I love the word “hellacious” because it means:

a. exceptionally powerful or violent

b. remarkably good

c. extremely difficult

d. extraordinarily large

So it’s like one word with four possibly very different meanings. If someone is “hellacious” are they all of the above? Can you be extraordinarily large without being exceptionally powerful or violent? Not if you want to be hellacious, apparently.

Now I have a picture in my head of a morbidly obese woman operating a backhoe.


2 thoughts on “If You Don’t Read This, You’re Not Serious About Donkeys

  1. Did you include in your diaper changing directions that when you get to one of the last wipes in the process, you need to “lift the spent wipe up to your nose, being careful to not make physical contact between the wipe and the nose. Inhale deeply yet cautiously, searching for any hiding feces odor. ”

    I think I may ask Candice to scrub her burners, just so I can see what that is going to look like.

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