All the news that's fit to print

Smart people are usually informed people, and I like the idea of being at least a semi-informed individual. There's a lot of shit that goes on in the world, and I'd like to know about at least some of it in a timely manner, not a week after it happens when someone asks me if I heard about it and I stare at them like an idiot. So I decided that I'd subscribe to a newspaper to be delivered to me daily. (Delivery anything is a good thing, if you ask me. Especially Chinese food.)
The Santa Barbara News Press is terrible and lame for reasons that neither you nor I really want to hear about, so my next choice was the LA Times. I made the commitment and subscribed online. A week later, then two weeks later, I hadn't had a single paper at my door. So I call to see what's going on, and after some confusion and awful music while being on hold, the man on the other end of the line tells me they don't deliver to Goleta. You'd think that they would say that when I signed up for the paper with my 93117 zip code, but that's obviously way too difficult to program into the registration website. Silly me. So no LA Times.
Next on my list was the New York Times. They deliver everywhere, right? Well, I actually don't know, but they do deliver to Goleta. Except it was going to cost me $6 a week (Okay, $5.95). The LA Times wasn't even $3/week. So I look at the Wall Street Journal, expecting it to cost around $10. Nope. $2 a week, sir, and actually with the student discount, about $1.30/week. With the NY Times student discount, my price goes all the way down to a whopping $4.90 per week. I am less than thrilled. But I want more news than stocks, so the New York Times it is, and they tell me I'll get my first paper this Friday. We'll see.

But I'm looking forward to the weekend, because I know when I wake up late, cook myself a nice big breakfast (or more likely, have my boyfriend cook me a nice big breakfast), and sit down to eat with a fatty newspaper to read, I'll feel pretty smart. Maybe I'll even wear my glasses.

P.S. Happy Birthday, Meghann.