The Hip Drip

As our girl on the street Erin tells us, the wonderful Dr. Amberson is leaving our school's Italian and French department. Damn. What a loss. Loyal readers might remember me describing Amberson as some hip, Irish Sarah Silverman. She stood out during a quarter when I had young, good-looking professors exclusively. She's the one who let my use the phrase "technicolor bloodbath" in a paper. She's also the one I sold the shit-eating movie to. (Honestly, I'm glad to be rid of it.) But when I went to her office to make this financial transaction — that's when I asked her what she'd be teaching next year and that's when I found out she'd be doing the same types of classes, only in Florida.

And now I feel like with the exception of Professor Waid and the writing professors, so many of the great young lecturers head out shortly after I have them. I don't know why. I guess UCSB isn't the primo place for a lot of academic types. Even they, I'd imagine, don't want to be trapped in a picture postcard forever. It's the brain drain, only with the with-it instead of the "only smart."

And in the tradition of winding up posts with some non-sequitur punchline, I thought I'd mention that I bought a box of fancy tea today. The box was purple. When I got it home, I realized I had purchased "popped rice and Japanese sencha, lightly covered with Matcha." I have no clue what this means, though I'm pretty sure it is tea, since it comes it tea bags. I made some. It tastes like liquid cereal.