Setting the bar low, oh so very low.

Guess who has a job in their college's Photo Department? No, not George Clooney, you boob. ME!

There are a whole bunch of reasons why I should have passed on the position as a photo lab assistant - the low pay, getting fucked over on all the good shifts, and the smell that begins to permeate your clothes after spending so much time in the dark room. Seriously, you spend the rest of the day smelling like farts, and no amount of "I didn't do it!" looks will appease the cringing masses. I'm on the verge of hurling the old standby, "You smelt it, you dealt it,"

But - this is a big but - I get to use the lab whenever it's empty of other classes for whatever photo pet projects I might have, no questions asked. And this, my dears, is perfect because I'm already the slowest person when it comes to developing prints in my Black and White photo class, as evidenced by this past Friday's class. My professor spent the last 5 minutes of class giving me the Evil Eye while everyone was outside on their break before the lecture portion of class. So there I am, rushing to clean up my area, and he's continuing to tsk, tsk me., and telling me to be quicker. Like, NO SHIT. WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT!? Bless you, kind sir, for parting with that nugget of wisdom. God, I hate people.

So after that demeaning spectacle, I refuse to be this photo class' resident fuck-up.

Well, maybe the doofus, but certainly not the fuck-up.