Miller Light is not the champagne of beers

I have been seriously thinking lately that I should send my college diploma back to the great state of Montana. I want to place it in the bottom of a box and fill that box with wasps. That way, when the people at MSU open the box, angry wasps will come out just as pissed as I am at this moment.
Here is why I am angry: I woke up yesterday and studied for a test for the first time in years and years. What kind of test you may ask? Hep C, Herpies, HIV? Nope, you can't study for those...you earns those after years and years of hard work. I was studying to aquire a Washington State Food Card or whatever they are called. One quick read through and I knew I was ready to party. My temporary gypsy roommate on the otherhand did not study and felt she needed me to read over the pamphlet while we drove in a downpour to take our test. Two times through that bastard and I was done and done, ready to ace that test.
Have you ever taken a scantron type test? Bubble in the box. ABCD right? At the Seattle Center for Making People Feel Like Morons they spend 5 minutes showing you how to fill in a scantron. Thank you Montana State. I love being humilitated by a fat woman who doesn't believe in deoderant.
"Hey Ryan, didn't you get a degree?"
"Yes, I did. A Literature degree."
"What do you do with that degree?"
"Well, I listen to a lot of vinyll and read a bunch of books."
"Do you get paid to do that?"
"Fuck you."
So after my folks paid for my degree I had to have my gypsy roommate pay for my entry to the Seattle Center for Making People Feel Like Morons, not because I don't have money. I've got more than one hundred of those, but because they only take cash at the Seattle Center for Making People Feel Like Morons. What, my over the counter checks are no good here?

So after two times reading through the manual, Miss Doesn't Wear Deoderant proceeds to explain the scantron, then tells us all about the manual, then pulls out a rubber chicken and moves it like an old man showing his newborn how his WWII boat went across the great Pacific right before those Goddamn Japs came and took his childhood. Fuck you Japan for taking our grandfather's childhoods. If they can't get over it, then how am I supposed to??

Three times through the manual I am ready to party all over this test. Nope, not yet. A giant rubber hot dog should probably come out instead. What Miss (I call her Miss because I pray to dios that someone didn't marry her) Doesn't Wear Deoderant...what is that you say? You have one...you have a giant rubber hot dog? Well then by all means...
"You might feel weird if you served this hot dog wearing gloves," she waves it around like some giant rubber mustard covered phallus.
Me thinking: "Nope, I'd feel weird serving a giant rubber hot dog."
"You can use tongs...but that doesn't feel right."
Me: "No ma'am, not unless I'm paying you to use those tongs."
"How can we serve this hot dog safely?"
Give the goddamn hot dog to Joe Hotdog. He doesn't give a shit. Fuck. Serve me my hot dog.

Time after time she shows me how stupid the world makes us. I know that someone failed that test and complained that they weren't taught enough. Darwin is pissed right now. All I want to do is take my English degree and make fucking bagels. I don't want your rubber hot dogs or the sank childhood chicken dreams of my grandfather; I want to take the fucking scantron test I studied for. Wait, I studied for this. Bring out the test.

"Now we'll watch a 30 minute video about food safety."

The video comes on and every person on that video speaks awesome English. False.
"You'a wash'a your'a hands after every'a time'a you'a use'a the batharoom." Wait, I didn't learn this at MSU. No wonder I'm ill equipted for this working world.
Turns out there is a thing called "Toilet paper failure." I'm not kidding. For those who need help on their scantron, Toilet Paper Failure is when your tp blows out and your hand brushes against your bh. Then you don't wash and the fecal matter from your unwiped bh that accumulates on your fingers cross contaminates someone's food. You eat it, and now you are taking that Hep test and not a Food Test. Maybe I will take that rubber hot dog.

I don't know what the moral of this story is, but I do know that after 4 times through I had more questions than answers. "What if I fart into a sandwhich? Should I wash my hands after?"And I also know that I missed three fucking questions on that test. Three more and I would have to take it again. Here in rainy Seattle that is grounds for jumping off the 99.

I guess the moral of my story is don't treat people like idiots, but also don't be an idiot. Nope, it is this: everyone around us is an idiot, but we never are. If I were Darwin or God or Allah or Simon Cowell or Oprah or Miss Doesn't Wear Deoderant I would be really upset with the whole human race. If you believe in evolution, you may want to reconsider; if you believe that God put us on Earth just as we are, you may want to reconsider your notions of God, because if our race was on American Idol there would be three giant X's on the screen and we wouldn't be allowed in our own pathetic living rooms next week. Sometimes I think I am the only truely smart person on this big blue planet.

I leave you with a quote:
"Inspite of everything, I still believe people are still really good at heart." Anne Frank (1929-44)