The Over-Educated Nympho

I’ve been gone for several days and yet this is all I have to report: no Boston boy booty (which meant lots of beer), a heightened hatred for old lady perfume especially if she is wearing a ginormous hat and sitting in front of me for four hours, waaaay too many Dunkin’ Donuts (including a donut hole that may have dropped on the floor of the backseat in the car, which I may have eaten anyway because the car is new and it was the last donut hole so stop judging me because you would understand if you had to drive around in a Passat with my crazy uncle who still does that “I got your nose!” trick even though I’M TWENTY SEVEN), lots of pretty photos of universities I wish I’d had the ovaries to apply to when I was in high school, the purchase of six delicious books from assorted campus stores including my favorite find of a pristine 1963 edition of A Concise Etymological Dictionary of the English Language for $2.50 (since I don’t get laid, I read–and apparently I’m running out of books I haven’t read already), a Fuck You epiphany [post coming soon] had while sitting at commencement for a bunch of PhD students from an Ivy League university while I got sunburned and read a book called What Should I Do with My Life?, an increased likelihood of hissing as a result from prolonged exposure to crazy relatives who only know how to speak in nano- and bio-speak, insecurity over my intelligence because I only have three degrees and none of them are a Doctor of Philosophizing (but I do have a minor in Philophobia, does that count toward my quantifiable measures of self-worth?), topped off by three days of severe heartburn.