Writer Joins Mass Trend of Treating Blog as Complaint Department, Loses Readers

Upon reflection, finals week with a sick 2-year-old probably isn't the best time to introduce a puppy to the household. Although Bonnie, as we've called our little Corgi-beagle mix, is actually the least demanding of my dependents—a list of persons that include several other animals as well as a husband with an Xbox habit and a mother with no sense of direction and an expired license.

(Details about The Adoption Story to come.)

I have three days to finish my major project of the semester: a podcast. This has required the same amount of research and writing as any other paper would, but with the added bonus of 1) learning the audio technology required and 2) successfully recording over 20 minutes' worth of material chock full of phrases like "feminist positivist empiricists," "cellular level" (try that one three times fast; it's almost as bad as "rural juror") and "continuum of women's work."

Most of the recording has been done between the hours of 10 p.m. and 1 a.m. Since I'm fighting the cold that Ethan coughed into my face three days ago, late-night recording sessions don't always yield the best vocals. So this evening while Noah was working, my dad came over to babysit while I recorded. Forthwith, the blooper reel. Pay special attention to the background noise.

...

Yeah, it' 10:49 p.m. and I don't know how to embed an MP3 yet. The gist: Usable material, negligible. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to pour myself a cranberry and vodka.