"The probability of someone watching you is proportional to the stupidity of your action."

Translation: I just spent over seven hours working on statistics problems for my M.A.E.D. Why in God's name I need to know how to plot histograms and find the standard deviation of eight million numbers as a future ENGLISH TEACHER is absolutely beyond me. Seriously. I am pretty sure I won't be teaching my kids how to write using only the binary code?! Unless they're robots. And in which case, the curriculum at the University of Phoenix is not going to prepare me for teaching terminators.

This was going to be a post about unbelievably excited I am to go to Texas in two days, but even the concept of putting words together (never mind my awesome ability for sarcasm) at this point might cause me to have a brain aneurysm. So I feel as though if I blog about going to Texas again, this time I really will act like the inbred doofus you all believe we are anyway, and dammit I just can't let that happen!

But back to stats class...my Dad used to tell me as a child "Katy, it's all about math." Everything in life can be explained by math. As a pilot, I understand how this applies to him. So maybe I'll drop all my stat's problems off on him in a few days just so I can say "Dad, it's not all about math nowadays...its all about paying other people to do the shit you can't do." And then run away using my famous zig-zag method so he can't catch me through the crowd (perhaps I won't wear heels to my cousin's wedding. I'll need better traction).

And as for everything in life being explained by math? Well, I suck at math so that would probably answer why I currently (cough, cough the past ten years cough, cough) suck at life. Geeze, as an English teacher I probably could've put that more eloquently...so here you go: My failures and lack of mathematical ability correlate to surmise that my existence is both derisive and imprudent. Better?

Moral of the post: if I hear the words "data" or "analysis" used within the next 24 hours my head will explode. And nothing but numbers will fall out of it. It will be like a gritty reboot of the Count's "Number of the Day" sketch from Sesame Street. "The number of the day is 85- as in Kat Von Devious' head is in 85 pieces! Bwhaha!"