http://signon.org/sign/want-a-real-economic.fb1?source=s.fb&r_by=991263

I saw this on a FB page today and I just sat there shaking my head.  Well actually, the idea that went through my head first was "You have to be f-ing kidding me!"

For those too lazy to click a link and read an article the jist:  In order to stimulate the economy the government should forgive all student loans, thereby allowing all those people with a college degree to walk away from their now free education with a few hundred dollars more a month to spend in the economy.  And PEOPLE ARE SIGNING IT... (I wonder how many of those people have college debt vs. how many don't."

Here's the thing... People with a college debt signed the dotted line saying they would repay the debt.  Someone please enlighten me as to why this debt should suddenly be free.  I mean my mortgage should be free then too right?  How about my credit card payments?  I KNOW!  Let's just give everyone a get out of all of your financial obligations free card! 

My point is simply this.  If it was SO important to these folks to graduate college debt free then why not work two jobs from those lovely years of 18-23 when you're likely too inexperienced in life to know what you'll want in five years anyway, save up for school, and be a full time student when you have enough money to pay for it up front? Live in a dump 1 bedroom apartment and drive a crappy but paid for car. Go to a Vo-tech and take your basic classes, because English and Math are English and Math no matter where you take the courses and they are *gasp* half the price of bigger Universities.

Oh wait...sorry.  We're American.  That idea requires thinking, planning, putting your goals before everything else, hard work and not getting something the minute you want it.  What was I thinking?

October 23, 2010!!!

Memo to us:  Never let your very pale new husband go out without sunscreen...Unless you want to spend the next 3 days laughing about his bandana sunburn line.  Hmmmm things to ponder...

It seems I started writing about the trip to Scotland I took last year and never finished it.  I suck.

For anyone who wants a recap:

http://southernlass.xanga.com/710034787/the-start-of-the-scotland-trip/

I left off by saying I was about to see my fiance and have a nice long sleep right...WRONG.

Two days before I left for Scotland I SEVERELY sprained my back.  Severely as in I am still going to the chiropractor for it over a year later.  So, I toted my luggage through the pittance of a train station, got on the correct train, and took off to Falkirk.  The train pulled in, I grab my luggage and guess what?

MORE STAIRS.

It's absolutely beyond me how anyone in Scotland gets around with a disability.  Luckily a cab driver was kind enough to offer me help and carried the heavy bag for me.  He asked politely "So is this full of bricks or a body?"  HAR HAR.

This is about 24 hours into the trip.  0 sleep.  Cranky meter is ticking up, but I thank the cabbie and start looking for my fiance and my future mother in law.  My train was late, so surely they were waiting on me...

They weren't there.

I picked up the cell phone and for the next hour I repeatedly ran up an international long distance roaming cell phone bill.  28 calls.  28.  TWENTY EIGHT.

NO ANSWER

Please explain to me how someone forgets to take their cell phone to the train station to pick up their fiance?  Please.  I'm waiting.  OH!  You can't explain it either?!

PFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

So, the cranky "I haven't had any sleep meter" has kicked into overdrive and I am fuming at this train station.  I spent the next hour dragging my luggage outside the train station to smoke, dragging it back in cause it was raining, and looking like a crazed fool frantically dialing her cell phone in between my best impersonation of a Clydesdale.  As if that torture weren't enough, apparently there are TONS of 5'8 or so BALD MEN who live in Falkirk.  So a cab would pull up, I would get excited, and it wasn't him.

GAHHHHHH GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR Grumble grumble grumble.

I called his house again and left a voicemail something along the lines of:

Rob, I swear to THE HIGHEST POWER IN THE UNIVERSE IF YOU ARE SLEEPING AND HAVE LEFT ME AT THIS (INSERT LONG RANT OF EXPLETIVES) TRAIN STATION WHEN YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE PICKING ME UP, I AM GOING TO SELL MY 9,000 LBS OF LUGGAGE AND TAKE THE NEXT TRAIN HOME!

Or something like that.

Finally, my cell rings and it's his mother.  She got that message.  GREAT first impression I am sure...She told me to take a cab to the OTHER train station in town.  My helpful blue fingered train station attendant sent me to...

THE WRONG STATION.  Great joke to play on the American. HAR HAR HAR HEHEHEHE FUNNNNNY.

So, I hope in the cab and ask to go to "Graham Station".  The cabby looks at me like I have grown a second head and our conversation proceeds like this:

Him:  Wheeerrrrreeeeeeere?
Me:  What?
Him: What Station?
Me:  (Speaking slower and louder) Graham Station

Him:  GRAHAMSTONSTATION???
Me:  Is that the same thing as Graham Station?

*Cabbie looks at me like a moron again*

Me:  Uhhhhh the OTHER train station in Falkirk?
Him:  Riiiiiiight.

At this point I realize I am about to die.  Literally.  My life flashed before my eyes.  I clutched my seat belt like it was the only thing keeping me attached to the earth.  The wrong side of the road, the terror of roundabouts, the absolute utter fear of this hell spawned demon whisking me through town like all the angels in heaven were after him.  It's a good thing I peed during my ample free time at the OTHER train station.

The terror inducing cabbie pulls into the area I directed and there is my fiance.  There is my fiance with a head as red as a lobster.  It seems he stood out in the sun the entire time while waiting on me.  My "He's so white I don't need a nightlight" luminiscent fiance was burned to a crisp.

He hopped in the cab and we drove to his house chatting along the way.  We drag the 9,000 lbs of luggage into the house where I am tackle hugged by his mother (who is apparently quite forgiving over expletive filled answering machine messages) and throughly sniffed and barked at by this:

Rob asks me what I would like to do.  I grumble something about a shower and sleep.  He's all happy, bouncy, chipper, and "ALL RIGHT LET'S GO"...to the stairs.  I don't think I ever glared at a set of stairs before, but I throughly glared at these evil carpeted monstrosities that demanded I help carry my luggage up more stairs.  I forced my legs to lift, shove, pull, and wobble my way up the stairs. 

Once I was at the top, I unpacked sleeping clothes, walked into the bathroom and glared at the "Power Shower".  At this point I've had no sleep for about 27 hours and the shower requires more effort than turning two knobs.  I am fairly certain a part of my brain snapped and locked itself away right then and there and that at some point in the future I will have a mental breakdown where I mutter STAIRS and POWERSHOWER while rocking myself in a fetal position.

Shower finished.  Bed.  Sleep.

Taunts the next day from all of his gaming friends because he apparently thought it was funny to turn on the microphone as I snored away the afternoon.