University of Bubblehead

Years ago one woman was determined to ruin my life: Bubblehead. The worst part is that I’m not even sure she was doing it on purpose. She just had a different thought process than other people do. Bubblehead worked at a university which will remain nameless, and which I have never actually visited. My only connection with the place was that they had a summer school program in the Basque area of Spain, and I wanted to attend. I submitted my application and was thrilled to be accepted into the program.

“I’m going to Spain this summer!” I told everyone excitedly. However, when I applied for financial aid, I was turned down because I was not enrolled in the program. This was very puzzling – hadn’t I already received confirmation? So I called the University of Bubblehead and talked to Bubblehead, who sounded like a bubblehead. She seemed to be the only person working in the place. She said oh yeah, she had sent the letter because I had been accepted into the program, but she hadn’t actually enrolled anyone in the program yet. She was going to do that two days before we got on the plane.

“I kind of need you to enroll me right now,” I explained, “or I cannot get financial aid. They won’t give me the money if I’m not an official student, and I can’t go if I don’t get the money.”

So Bubblehead said she would enroll me as a student in the University of Bubblehead, and it only took weeks of calling to get her to do so. When she left a message on our answering machine, my roommate asked who she was.

“She sounds like a total bubblehead,” she said.

“That’s exactly what she is,” I told her.

Finally everything was straightened out, and I was on my way to Spain. I studied Basque and ran around with Basques all summer in the Pyrenees. What a great time! I forgot all about Bubblehead and the trouble she had caused me.

The university in Spain where I was actually studying grades the usual European way, with words like “Excellent” instead of A, “Good” instead of B, etc. Because this was a Basque university, they wrote the words in Basque. My teacher had assured me I was getting an A, and she sent the grades back to the University of Bubblehead, since that was where I was officially getting the credit. When I got home, my report card said I had dropped the class, so I called the University of Bubblehead. And guess what? I had to talk to Bubblehead! Seriously, she must have run the place or something. She said oh, she didn’t understand what the word meant on my report card so she assumed it meant I had dropped the class. What??? And this is at the only University in the United States that has a Department of Basque, so she could have walked down the hall and asked someone, but that would make too much sense. That odd decision on her part took until the following December to fix. Fortunately, I have never had to deal with Bubblehead or the university she seems to single-handedly run ever again.

Famous Hat