APPARENTLY, IT'S ASSHOLE WEEK

Apparently, it is Asshole Week.

Yesterday was the smarmy limo driver who totally pissed me off.  Today it's an encounter at a conference.

I attend a pedagogy conference, basically a bunch of discussions about English, at the university where I recently earned another Master's Degree.  I would've been able to walk for graduation last May had a certain prick of a professor actually READ my thesis, but he chose to be a dick about it and prevent me from graduating for three weeks, missing the ceremony.

After I check in this morning, Professor Prick walks by me.  I roll my eyes at one of my colleagues, who also had a run in with Professor Prick years ago.  As soon as I head to my first panel discussion, I notice Professor Prick is already in the room.

"Fuck," I say loudly, spitting the word out like shark chum, "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck."

The man behind me smiles and bows his head.  I assume he is trying to be polite.  Turns out he is a bio-chem professor who doesn't really speak English.  He probably thinks I am greeting him with some special American custom.

Thankfully, Professor Prick is merely visiting someone before my panel starts.  He leaves; we enjoy a hearty discussion; score one for me.

The second panel, I am not so lucky.  My colleague and I are already seated for the discussion when Professor Prick screams in, late, of course, making an even bigger prick out of himself than usual.  The panel, missing its key presenter who had a family emergency (sick kid), crashes and burns and becomes a huge bitchfest amongst the university's faculty.  Naturally, Professor Prick speaks up.

I cannot listen.  I cannot tolerate the sound of his voice,  It's almost all I can bear until I leave the classroom, chucking him the bird twice in a way that I'm sure leaves him wondering, "Did she ... no ... she did ... did she ... no way did she just flip me off ... did she?  I think ... maybe ... she did ... no ... come on ... really?  ... shit."

But I used my time productively.  You see, Professor Prick is a poetry professor, so I used my time to write a poem about my wonderful, fond memories of what he did to me exactly one year ago.  Here it is.  Enjoy.

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Look who just walked in here!
What are you doing in my session?
Why are you here?
Who dubbed you worthy of a genre discussion?
Where you sit,
Do you know I can bore into your
Brain from across the room?
When did the Great Grad School Gods
Decide to shit on me for an hour?
How did I get so goddamn lucky?
Oh, crap.
You speak!
Stop speaking.
My ears!
My frigging ears are bleeding at the mere
Sound of your voice.
I feel special.
So special.
Special, special, special.
If I had my thesis
Right here
Right now
I'd shove that sucker
Right down
Your throat until you
Choke on it.
Do you want to know
What, why, who, when, where, how
I feel seeing
You sitting across the room from me?
The room next to the very room where I
Presented my thesis that you tried to
Prevent me from presenting?
Fuck yourself, motherfucker.