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My work nerds have ruined me. I can’t get through a day without making sophomoric ‘your mom’ jokes.

I even make the stupid jokes when no one is around to hear/appreciate them. Tonight, for example, I was cooking noodles and turned this into a your mom joke:

It wouldn’t be so horrible if I hadn’t changed the pitch in my voice and followed it up with “That’s what she said.”

Seriously, I’m broken. I wonder if I can get workers compensation for this.

If you’re a huge fan of Facebook you’ll probably want to skip this week’s column for In Utah This Week. I’m in the midst of an anti-Facebook crisis. I just hate it so much lately. I’d rather do homework than log in, which pretty much tells you THE END OF THE WORLD IS COMING!

Prepare my wicked readers. As for my righteous readers: Do you have your food storage ready? Do you have a stocked wine cellar? If so, what’s your address?

My baby brother stopped by to show me how to start the lawnmower (MUCH more on that later this week). After performing his brotherly duties he walked into my house and announced he needed to use the bathroom.

“Chady don’t you dare poop in my house.”

“I am. Get over it.”

“NOOOO! Poop in the garage bathroom. I don’t want boy poop in my house.”

He headed to the upstairs bathroom and closed the door. I immediately called my mother.

“Mom, Chady is pooping in the house. Please make him stop.”

“Honey, is he pooping in the bathroom?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Oh good. At least he’s pooping in the bathroom, right?”

The conversation sort of ended there. I mean what do you say to that? Leave it to my mom to make me grateful that my brother poops in a toilet.

To read my column for In Utah This Week go here. The column is about adjusting to a new home.. which isn’t going as well as I had hoped. I still want to punch my bathroom in the face. I haven’t been able to have a bath in two weeks.

TWO MOTHER FUCKING WEEKS!

I’m showering, so there’s not a hazardous waste issue going on. I just want to soak in the bathtub. My entire world is thrown off when I can’t have a night tubby. I get grumpy and my wine consumption goes way up, which is good for the economy but saving the world isn’t at all relaxing.

This semester I’ve learned that casual relationships and causal relationships are not the same thing. Typos are my bitch. I’ve also learned that under stress numbers sorta look the same.

For example, over the weekend I decided to run my DARS report to make sure I was on target to graduate in December. In the report I read that I still needed 16 credits. Do you see that anywhere in this report?

Yeah, I didn’t think so. Congratulate yourself on being smarter than I am.

In a panic I sent numerous emails and left voice mails for my adviser. I went on and on about how my sanity and bank account couldn’t handle another semester. I begged her to help me find a solution. I may or may not have been crying in two of the voice mails. Sure it’s only one class and not the end of the world, but I’m just ready to be done.

She emailed me back today to let me know what you guys already know: I’m bad with details. I have everything I need to graduate in December, EXCEPT my application for graduation that was due in June.

Thank God for late fees people. Seriously.

As usual school is kicking my ass. I’m struggling to balance work, school and personal hygiene. This morning I was in such a rush to leave the house that I didn’t brush my teeth. Shut up. That’s why Baby Jesus invented gum.

I realized my transgression halfway through my first class. While rummaging through my purse for gum I felt something that didn’t belong. Much to the surprise of my classmates I pulled out a giant cucumber.

Rather than explain it was from my mother’s garden and going to be my lunch I just kept my mouth shut. I knew I’d somehow end up talking about tossing a salad, AND there’s just no recovery from that. So instead I threw the cucumber back into my purse, unwrapped a piece of gum and continued taking notes because that’s the kind of Monday I’ve had.

To read this week’s column where I’m a giant dickhead to hippies go here.

You can bitch at me all you want, but HIPPIES ARE ICKY AND DIRTY! They also listen to Ben Harper which makes me want to barf.

“Ma’am (FIRST MISTAKE) I’m here to install your Internet. Would you like me wait outside while you get dressed?”

“No. I’d like you to install my Internet. How else am I going to use bit torrent to steal my shows? Besides what do you have against my pink, pug pajamas?”

“That’s illegal.”

“OH MY GOD! Pug pajamas are illegal? Well I don’t care. They are cute enough to go to prison for. Wait. Would I be allowed to take them to prison with me? If not I may be willing to give them up. I mean really what’s the point of going to prison for something I’m not even allowed to have in prison. Right?”

“Um… Ma’am (Seriously, again with calling me old!) I’m sure your pajamas are legal, but downloading television is a crime.”

“Ohhh… OK, well I was kidding about that part. (… ahem) Come on in. You brought coffee right?”

I’m sure you’re as sick of hearing about my move as I am planning for it.

Well, TOO DAMN BAD.

This moves has consumed my life… and my mothers, WHO IS A FREAKING SAINT! Knowing her daughter freaks out over the slightest bit of change she drove two hours just to help me finish packing.

When I realized I didn’t have any newspaper or bubble wrap to pack the Pyrex I ran to the closest IN Utah This Week stand and stole a few papers. I write for them so it’s OK to steal.

Though, in hindsight, I probably should have grabbed a different newspaper. This week’s issue was the adult issue, so now my sweet, Mormon mother thinks I write for a trashy, porn magazine. Awesome. I cannot wait to hear how she spins this for the family newsletter.