Men in Boots

There is one, an only one, sort of boot I approve of men wearing; a kind of footwear that I'd see on a guy, and think "I could marry you solely for you boot choice".
I dislike all snow boots. I know they are practical, but give it up. You like to ski, that's cool, and you hit the slopes with your homeboys and your hot pink board, that's acceptable. But your boots are not. They're ugly, make you walk like a knee-less jamoke, and don't make me want to marry you.
Work boots: now, here is another practical boot. I don't totally dis the tan hiker type boot, and sometimes I think they are rather attractive, especially on the Brawny man or unlaced while you are smoking a nice pipe on a porch somewhere, but let's face it. If you wear work boots....fine fine fine, they're not that bad, I'll forgive this and marry you. 
I also loathe any type of leather boots, especially if they have heels, are made out of dead boa constrictors, or have plastic, metal, or pletal zippers. These are tacky. You're Mick Jagger, that's sweet. You're crusty and old and when I see your too-tiny T's and jeans, I do not think "You're smokin', let's elope".

I lied. I don't like any boots on men. Stick to white loafers, sleek dress shoes, and sneakers...not running shoes. Or boots. Of any kind.

I lied again. I don't give a crap what shoes you wear. This is not pertinent to our relationship at all. Wear what you want and I'll do the same and we can live happily ever after. 

I've got one. final. left. It's accounting. I really dislike accounting, and no matter what anyone says, managerial is not easier than financial. These courses are equally aggravating, useless, and a detriment to my glorious GPA. When it's all said and done, though, I don't really give a crap about this exam. No matter that I need an 82.5% to get a decent finishing grade; no matter that it's at 2pm and I have to make a flight at 5pm; no matter that I've been up since 6:30am, got 5 hours of sleep, and even the coffee isn't helping to pop my peepers open.

What can I do? It's accounting. It's an exam. It's an accounting exam---the last one I'll ever take (SCORE!)

I Love Exam Week!

Exam week is the best one of the year. Honestly. I get to work extra hours where all I do it study, I take exams in my PJs, and notes become obsolete, so I can clear my notebooks of all that debris.
Here's how I 'study' for exams:
A day in advance, at most, I look at my notes for, let's say, 10 minutes. I do this potentially 3 times that day. Before bed, the evening previous to the exam day, I browse my well-taken notes, powerpoint slides, and I might even crack the book open. If it is an early exam, I wake up, pop my spectacles on, grab some pencils, look at my notes once again, and arrive at the exam location. I throw everything I know into essay questions and do everything else rather quickly as not to forget what I crammed into my brain.
If it is at a decent time of day, I sleep in, drink excessive amounts of coffee (which is an every-day activity, not partial to exam week), do some yoga, and study study study (for 10 minutes). I dress nicely, eat regularly, and ease into the classroom, face the exam the same way I would if it were before 9am, as mentioned in the above paragraph, and after all is said and done, I let all that information escape out the back of my brain and sit in angst waiting for my score to come back (mostly 'angst' consists of eating cookies and blaring celebratory songs).

Garage man

I've developed an uncanny friendship with one of the security guards at the parking garage downtown. Before you get too creeped out and wonder what kind of person even would think about having such a relationship, don't. It's rather simple.
There is an old man. He wears a dark blue collar-less coat all year round and he dons a white moustache. He's probably in his early 70s. He used to walk around the parking garage, checking for pass-less cars, but I believe he gave that up, unless he does this job while I am not watching...not that I watch him all the time, I don't, I'm just saying I haven't seen him roam the cold concrete garage in the near past.
He sits in the booth by the entrance to a certain lot, and one day I started waving to him. It may have been my red hair or my white coat that made me recognizable to him, but whatever it was, he started waving back.
Now every day I look for him in that booth...sometimes he is replaced by a younger person doing homework. Sometimes I pass him walking, though this is rare. I did pass him today, and I said hello. He has a wonderfully rich voice, lower and younger than I anticipated.
I hope he doesn't keel over and kick the can before I graduate, for my day would not be complete without a sighting of the Garage Man.