raging out at... inappropriate ways of finding out information

Some information is difficult to take. Some information is painful to swallow. And some information is just plain weird to receive. Is it too much to ask that I just be informed of said news in a manner that's not out of control?

Last night was my very first class as a TA (teacher's assistant). (I will pause here for a moment so everyone can get a good snicker in about who it is that might be a less appropriate TA than I.) And honestly, if you can think of someone, you win the Random Rageouts Door Prize. To be determined at a later date.

As the students filed in, I handed out the syllabus and during this time finally bothered to take a look at it myself. In gigantic, how-in-the-hell-did-I-miss-this? letters, the name of an old gentleman friend of mine (who shall be referred to as "Mozart" from here on out) pops out at me: he is next week's guest-speaker. I literally choked. (And no, not a false usage of the word "literally." I most definitely choked on my French Vanilla coffee.)

Luckily "Mozart" and I are still on excellent terms. Whom else would I call when I can't figure out what to do with my extra candlewax? Or if I need someone to dance for me... to prove why "Umbrella" is a great pop song? Or count on to give me nightmares for a week over requests that I can't believe came out of a human's mouth? I keep him around strictly for those first two reasons... and sometimes hide from him for months because of the last one.

This particular instance wasn't a big deal, but this bitch "Mozart" knows where I work and that I would clearly be the TA on that class and yet I have to find out from a college course syllabus? And considering we are "friends" from back east, to have him guest speaking in my class on the west coast is information I would have preferred to come from him.

There have definitely been instances in my life where I have gotten pretty substantial information from the worst possible source. (Here comes Stars Being Angry at Technology again...)
Not so long ago, in a land not so far away, I was dating a gentleman who shall be referred to as "Pinehog." I don't know why. I just like the name "Pinehog." "Pinehog" went away for work and I discovered through the miracle of pictures on MySpace that "Pinehog" fell into someone else's girlie parts. That is certainly not information anyone ever wants to hear, but learning about it complete with visual aid was probably the worst way to be enlightened.

And in all fairness, a lot of the inappropriate gathering of information has been my own fault, as I am a licensed spy and computer hacker of boyfriends. It's true. They give out degrees for that. But that doesn't discount the innumerable amount of times, I've been broken up with on a text or been told of an engagement on an e-mail or even when I had to find out that a friend overdosed by Instant Message.

I really don't think it's too much to ask of anyone to give me a phone call or have (gasp!) a real conversation about unpleasant, or strange, topics. The whole thing makes me want to delete my MySpace, my e-mail, my AIM, get rid of text messages, and find a safe hiding place under a rock so I never find out anything the wrong way again.


Also, apropos of nothing and entirely off topic... I would like to have Michael Cera's awkwardly adorable babies. I don't care if that makes me a little creepy.

-stars