A Scottish Educational Haunting...

Not much has been happening here. In fact, I spend half of my blogs explaining my absence (this must stop).

The past month has been a... revelation of sorts. I think third year has arrived with a metaphorical kick up the arse because I have never felt so crumpled by the work pile before in my life. And then coupled with 'Canadia' stress (It was christened Canadia by Devon) and now honours entrance, I'm drowning. And I believe I'm drowning in 'Real Life'. God, does growing older ever stop getting worse?

As it is the penultimate year of my degree (what?), I have decided I'm going to take a bash at getting an internship for next summer. Now, I can't lie, I doubt very much I'll make it past the application process in most of them for two reasons.

1. Very little Proof that I will attain a 2:1 degree - Which is a pointless thing anyway. How can you employ someone on the basis that they MIGHT get a 2:1 degree? You might get someone who does and then goes into Honours year and falls flat on their face. Conversely, you might get someone who decides they are going to work their booty off in fourth year despite the fact their grades were substandard in second year (Aka, moi).

2. Maths test - I had to do a maths test on the very first one. Given enough time, I can work something out but I was given sixteen questions and eight minutes to do it. I don't like pressure. And then I ran out of time. I cannot believe, after two years at University that mathematics are still haunting me. It's like a slap in the face everytime. I hated maths and I still hate it and you wouldn't be asked to answer a complex maths question in a minute in the workplace. No. It just plain sucks.

So yeah, rant over.

The Pork Chop Analogy

A few months ago, I posted a blog in which I promised to explain something I have affectionately named 'The Pork Chop Analogy'. It's been a while since that blog post now but I think you're all finally ready to hear the explanation as it is only fair.

The premise is pretty simple really. You just need to accept the fact that the pork chop is the most horrible and disgusting foodstuff in the entire world.

Never has anything graced my plate so tasteless, oily, tough, pale, fatty, grisly, chewy, bland and quite frankly, crap like a pork chop. It is the pinnacle of bad food. When I hear from mutti that tonight's dinner is Pork Chops, my heart genuinely sinks into the pit of my stomach, hoping it's digested before it has to provide the blood flow to digest the pork chop. To be honest, it just makes me sad, really sad and I can't explain why I feel so strongly about them. It's amazing to think that bacon, glorious bacon comes from the same animal as a pork chop does. The humble pig is food heaven and hell in the same entity, astonishing. I feel so strongly about pork chops that if I had the free time, I would campaign to have them banned but alas, no-one has that much time on their hands and pledging that my future children will never have to suffer it will have to do.

Now, that has been explained, back to the analogy. If you're looking for a wonderful insult to use, you can use 'The Pork Chop Analogy'.

For example: 'You're just a big pork chop' would probably reduce me to tears.

If you're having a bad day: 'That was a pork chop of a day' conveys the same meaning as 'That was a shitter of a day.'

And so on and so forth.

So, next time someone's giving you grief, tell them that they are a pork chop. Or not...

Boak.