Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Statute of Limitations Has Passed

Sometimes there are stories you take to the grave. Sometimes there are stories you wait almost twenty years to tell. That way the parties involved are either dead or retired. I say this because this entry is a big tattle on my high school guidance counselor. Dude, you better be retired, that is all I'm gonna say.

I am not a fan of educational bureaucracy, and mandatory counseling sessions are one of the worst things I have to suffer through. I am one of those people who already knows what he wants and tries to work towards it. In fact, most of my clashes in college happened when I knew what I wanted, and my academic advisers instead encouraged me to goof off and find myself (another blog entry in the making).

However, I was not always this way. The big "moment of not knowing what I was going to do" that happened in my life occurred in my junior/senior year of high school. Choosing a college and a subsequent career was beyond my little pea-pie head. I liked learning, but I only had a vague idea of how to turn the talents I had into a way that could generate lots of money, fame, and power.

After taking the SAT, I started receiving all sorts of college recruitment packages. This was absolutely awesome, until I looked at how much it cost.

I did not have any money when I graduated high school (thank you, Billy Joel for making such awesome music that I spent all my money on you). I wanted to get all sorts of grants and scholarships, but didn't know exactly how to get my hands on all of that filthy lucre.

My only option was to... talk to the counselor.

"I don't know what school I should go to. And I'm broke. I don't know what to do..."

"You have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Well, get a girlfriend. Girlfriends do wonderful things."

"Um... yeah... I was thinking of going to Brown."

"Why Brown?"

"I don't know. I read a book where one of the characters graduated from Brown. It was a good book."

"Two years ago I had a student go to Brown and take the campus tour. He came back to me and you know what he said?"

"What?"

"Ugliest. Women. Ever."

"Ok. I was also thinking of one of the Ivy League schools. Like Columbia or something in Boston."

"There are a lot of ugly girls in the Northeast, you know that?"

"I didn't."

"Well, there are. Hideous. Ones you tell your buddies 'thank heavens she has a good personality.' What you need to do is focus on one of the state schools. UT. North Texas. A&M. There are some beautiful looking women on those campuses."

"I see."

"So. That's all I've got. Go to a state school. Get yourself a beautiful girlfriend. We good?"

"I guess so."

"We good?"

"We good."

"Ok, then."

4 comments:

Scott said...

Rob - Not only did we go to the same high school and graduate the same year, but given our last names being close together, we had the same counselor. Mr. H. I know you know, but I won't spell out the name for his sake. He gave me the same advice. Although I found it a little shallow, I followed it, went to UT and ended up marrying a good-looking gal. Looking back, I had underestimated the value of dating and marrying an attractive female. I was young and thought I was being mature by looking for girls that were smart and had character. All rubbish. Mr. H knew what he was doing. That's why he was a counselor. He was a genius.

M. Robert Turnage said...

Scott - I am glad the advice worked out for you. I guess it was one of those things where what I was expecting and what I got were so different, I couldn't help but be a little disappointed. (This is the same thing that happens to millions of Americans when Jim Carrey or Adam Sandler decide to do art films or something that shows off their acting ability.)

Todd said...

The irony here is that there are some gorgeous girls from all over the country that go to Northeast schools. It's a melting pot of hotness.

Churlita said...

It's all about looks with you guys. What about money? There are lots of rich girls at those schools. Marry into that and you could afford as many hot mistresses as you wanted.