Last week at EMT class our instructor was reviewing a concept when Gail raised her hand and inquired, "Is this going to be on the test?" And then she turned to me, slightly horrified, and whispered, "Oh my god. I can't believe I just asked that."

I couldn't help but laugh, but only because I've been similarly surprised to discover just how quickly I've reverted back to my own past-student personality. At break Gail and I discussed how even though we have been out of school for years (and years, in her case) and even though we are in many ways very different people than we were in high school and college, and even though this is just EMT class and not medical school or something, we are the exact same students we've always been in the classroom.

I don't even necessarily want to be the way I am. As an educator, I've come to realize the overachieving straight-A approach isn't a healthy one for students, which is a topic for a different day, but the point is that it doesn't matter because I can't break away from that mindset. I cannot help but be the same student I've always been.

It seems this is the case for my fellow classmates as well. I definitely recognize the same basic classroom characters that I remember so well from my days sitting in a student desk...

The Goody-Goody. That would be me. And Paula. And Gail to some extent. But probably me the most. I like to ask questions. Frequently. Smart questions, not stupid ones - questions that demonstrate my superior grasp of the material. (That's not why I ask them; I ask them because I sincerely want to understand beyond the basics.) I also volunteer to do things in class, perhaps a wee bit too eagerly. And I enjoy helping other students understand, sometimes even interrupting the teacher's explanation when I realize what the other student isn't getting before the teacher fully comprehends. I am, admittedly, completely annoying.

The Know-It-All. But this person is more annoying. The Know-It-All feels compelled to correct the instructor constantly, pointing out every potential mistake. Except usually they are NOT mistakes and he just looks like an ass. And a dumb one, at that. On the rare occasion when his correction is correct, it is so insignificant as to not warrant even bringing up. Like, "Oh, actually, that rescue squad was founded in 1973, not 1971." ASS.

The Storyteller. This person has a story for everything, a personal anecdote that only peripherally (if at all) relates to the topic at hand. The first few times she started into a story, we all waited for the point, sure it would come, certain there was a relevant reason she'd blathered on for five minutes. Now when she opens her mouth, we all look down at our notebooks because we don't want to encourage her by giving eye contact. I'm not sure if she just likes to hear her own voice or if she actually thinks she is contributing to the conversation in some way. Which she's not.

The "Wait..." I try to be sympathetic to this person, because she's really trying. But for the love of god, you do not need to write down every word of the lecture! "Wait! Can you go back to the last slide? I wasn't finished with it yet." ARRGH! And then she'll ask a question that the instructor JUST answered. The instructor will patiently repeat herself, but it is all I can do not to snap my pencil in half. Obviously all of us miss stuff from time to time, but this person misses, like, 39% of what's said. And even when she is giving it her full focus, she will ask the most ridiculously ditzy questions. "Wait...So does 'water transport accident' mean that they were boiling a pot of water and burned themselves or something?" That is an actual question she asked. At which point I gripped the table in front of me to prevent myself from leaping up and shouting, "BOATING ACCIDENT! It basically means BOATING. ACCIDENT." She is so sincere, and I know I shouldn't dislike her for being a little stupid. But she is holding the rest of us back! And I have overachieving to accomplish here, hello!

There are also the token Gossip Girls who whisper back and forth during class and flip their hair and flirt with boys during break, and the usual Immature Boys who make lame jokes and try to create a sexual subtext for pretty much everything. In my EMT class these people are college students, and they're not that bad. I remember high school being much, much worse for this.

Some things are exactly the same as high school, though. For instance, it is impossible for a class not to giggle when discussing erections. I don't care if you're 16 or 60, a Goody-Goody or a Gossip Girl. If the topic is erections, we will all crack bad jokes and laugh, laugh, laugh.

Everyone is buzzing about the death of Heath Ledger, and the media coverage is completely rankling me. Every time there's a new detail released, it gets splashed around in headlines that, the very next day, are proven wrong. "Heath Ledger found facedown and naked on his bedroom floor!" (Oh wait, he was actually in bed.) "Sleeping pills scattered around Heath's apartment!" (Oh wait, they weren't scattered, actually. They were on his nightstand and in his medicine cabinet.) "Rolled-up 20-dollar bill found in Heath's apartment with traces of white powder!" (Oh wait, the bill was clean. No illegal drugs were found.)

Entertainment reporters (if you can call them that) are the worst, but even legitimate news organizations get into it. I hate how the media spreads all sorts of rumors before any actual truth comes out. Since his death, news reports have been suggesting (sometimes outright, sometimes with strong hints) that he overdosed - maybe intentionally, maybe accidentally. But we don't even know yet if drugs were involved in his death! Sure, he owned sleeping pills. He also suffered from insomnia, which he was very open about. Why do we immediately assume he died from an overdose? Initial reports were that he had pneumonia, too. Not sure if that's true, either, but why do we leap for the idea that he overdosed and ignore the possibility that he might have had a health emergency?

A better question is why are we making wild speculation at all?! Oh right, because scandal sells. How honorable. This isn't news - it's rumor. And by spreading it, we disrespect the person who died, not to mention his family and friends who have to endure all these claims before anything is confirmed.

I realize that given his age, Ledger's death is mysterious. And it may turn out that the official findings show he did die of an OD. Frankly, it's none of our business, but I hope the cause, whatever it may be, is announced soon - so he will no longer be a tabloid target and can actually rest in peace.

What is up with restaurants not taking reservations? The past couple years I've noticed that this is becoming more and more of a trend, and I find it highly annoying.

Most fine dining restaurants still take reservations, but typically when I'm making reservations it's because we have additional plans for the evening, like a play or concert, and we don't have extra time to dawdle at dinner. And so fine dining is not even an option since those places take much longer. In those instances, I just want to have dinner at a nice bar & grill type place.

And since our evening schedule will be tight and we won't have time to wait 20-40 minutes for a table, I call the restaurant a few days in advance to make reservations. And I am told they don't take them. So I call another place. They don't take them either. So I call another. And another. One doesn't take reservations but does offer "call-ahead seating." Um, isn't that what I'm doing? I am calling ahead. For seating. Yeah, turns out I'm calling too far ahead. They don't want me to call more than 20 minutes ahead, basically as we're heading out the door. If I call then, they'll put my name on the waiting list. But it's not a reservation. They don't do reservations. DON'T SAY RESERVATION.

I suppose if an establishment is busy enough, they know they'll fill their tables and so it's not worth their while to deal with reservations. But for the love of god, are we no longer capable of making long-term commitments? And by "long-term" I mean three days. Can restaurants really not offer their customers the basic consideration of a reservation? Have so many people bailed on reservations that they've ruined it for the rest of us?

Maybe this doesn't bother most people, but I am a person who plans. I'm a planner. Planning is what I do. And these damn restaurants that don't take reservations are seriously fucking up my plans.

I like my eye doctor. I really do, despite the fact that I consider eye drops to be a torture device. And I think my eye doctor likes me, despite the fact that I am totally Rachel Green at appointments. But he said something to me at yesterday's appointment that has done irreparable damage to our relationship. All it took was one word - just one word that made me immediately wonder why he's out to get me.

Bifocals.

That's what he said. He said bifocals. As in, "In the next several years, you are going to need bifocals."

Bifocals?! People, I am 27 years old! Twenty-seven going on 50, apparently. What is up with these doctors who go out of their way to make me feel fucking old? RUDE. Also rude? A certain husband who laughed (laughed!) upon hearing from his dejected wife that she will soon need bifocals (bifocals!). And it was not just a mere chuckle, but a long hearty laugh. Ass.

Rob cannot understand why this bifocals thing bothers me. "It's no big deal!" he says. "You're cute in glasses!" he insists. He's secretly thrilled, I'm sure, because with glasses I will be one step closer to looking like Tina Fey. But it's not just about the glasses, although having to wear them all the time will be a total pain. It's more than that - this is yet another GLARING imperfection. I am nearsighted, and I have long ago accepted that. I wear glasses to watch tv and when I drive at night. But to compensate for this inadequacy, I take pride in having great near vision. I realize how stupid that is, but it's like the cavity thing. I'll take perfection where I can get it, okay? And so at my eye appointments I'm always quite proud, when the tech hands me the cardboard chart to read up close, that I can read the very smallest line. The tiniest letters! With no squinting, and no hesitation! I may not be able to read the huge letters on the far wall, but I get an A on up-close reading!

Except not anymore. Now apparently I get, like, a B+. I can still see up close perfectly fine. Well, not perfectly I guess. (Grr.) But I can see fine. But apparently my focusing muscles are "fatigued." Apparently my vision is slipping, all around. Apparently I'm fucking OLD and getting less and less perfect with each passing day. In fact, apparently the only thing I excel at these days is the act of deteriorating. It seems I'm at the head of the class on that one. I mean, I'll have bifocals before I'm 30! I am totally in the top percentile - of aging.

Fuck.

Well shit. My breasts have gotten smaller. This was so not part of the plan.

This weekend we went on a short trip with my family, and Sunday morning found us sitting around a table in the hotel eating the continental breakfast. The woman who worked there (to refill the bagel bin and such) was flirting with a baby at the table next to us. And by flirting I mean completely overstepping her bounds - hand-feeding the child Cheerios, lifting him out of his high chair and carrying him around, helping him toddle down the hall. I found her behavior inappropriate, but I wouldn't have cared except she was too busy cooing over the baby to bring out more donuts.

But then she turned her attention to our table. Keep in mind that the breakfast room was full of people. But she turned to us. To Rob, specifically. And she asked, loudly, "Doesn't this make you want a little one?"

My first thought was, "Who put her up to that?" Because, seriously? Now we're getting this from the hotel breakfast lady? Are you fucking kidding me?!

She proceeded to harass Rob for a bit about his duty to procreate, while I just sat there shaking my head. Finally I butted in, mostly to spare Rob more attention but also because I felt the need to educate everyone in the room, all of whom couldn't help but overhear. When I stated that having children isn't at all appealing to us right now, she shifted tactics and informed us that we should at least have children so our parents can be grandparents. At that moment I suspected my parents had put her up to it, but one look at their faces confirmed that they were as appalled by her logic as I was.

I share this (despite having harped on this topic enough lately) because several people have insisted to me that this never happens to them, that they have never been asked about having babies. Which I believe, in a disbelieving sort of way. Because this happens to us all the freaking time. We get it from people we know and from complete strangers. From women and from men. We get it at home and on trips. We get it separately and together. What gives? It's like there's a sign on each of our backs that reads, "Please ask me about when we're going to have a baby!"

Which makes me think, to balance it out, we need to wear t-shirts that send the opposite message. Like, "Don't you even fucking ask me about babies, bitch." Or is that too blatant? Maybe this: "I have sex just for fun." Or perhaps, "Thank you for not sticking your nose in my uterus." I think that one's my favorite.

People are now harassing my brother - my brother! - about when I'm going to have kids. My parents and brother went to a family reunion today, which I didn't attend. And then this evening my brother calls me and halfway through our conversation, he says, "Oh, by the way, [one of our cousins] is asking about when you're going to have kids."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Well, he didn't really ask it about you, exactly. He asked about me."

"Huh? About when you're going to have kids?"

"No, he said, 'So, when are you going to get a little niece or nephew?'"

"My god. What the hell?"

"I know."

"What did you say?"

"I said I didn't figure that was any of my business."

Preach it, brother.