Mavrick is a CMU graduate. My smart little cookie. He is my go-to guy for all things number-related, money-related, math-related, basically anything that doesn’t involve words. And I am confident when I go to him for advice, because he graduated from one of the top universities in the country.
He has advised me on my stock purchases, counseled me in home buying, and calculated at super-sonic speed how much money we would save a month, as a couple, if we stopped drinking (answer: $15oo. Bars of Pittsburgh, you’re welcome).
He can do mental math the way I can do mental word association with the great works of Jane Austen. (Who said an English degree was a waste of time? I can recite The Canterbury Tales in Olde English! That is way cooler and more useful than knowing how to balance a checkbook).
I think we can all agree that Carnegie Mellon University is a top-notch institution, cranking out smarter-than-average graduates, poised for success in finance, politics, computers, and art. And obviously Mavrick is half genius, at least. He is dating me, an act that is scientifically proven to boost your IQ by like 58 points.
And Mavrick is proud of his Alma Mater. He has CMU zip hoodies, reads alum newsletters, has a strange fondness for bagpipes, and, when he does something extra smart, will look at me with a twinkle in his eye and say, “See, babe? That’s my CMU education!”. Sometimes, he even prefaces things by saying, “If there is one thing my CMU education taught me, it’s …” (fill in the blank here. It could be anything from put down a towel before period sex, to how to build an artificial heart out of gum and pancake mix).
So it was with some sadness today that he, while perusing the CMU web site, came across what I am going to go ahead and call the worst ring tone of all time. And I have heard some terrible ring tones. Like, if I were a CMU grad, and I heard this, I would cry and stop donating to the annual fund.
If I was a person on the street and heard this, I would beat the snot out of whoever dared to defile their phone with it. It’s so bad, so trite, so bloated and full of itself, that it’s actually funny. You gotta listen to the very end, when the male voice says, “I’m Smart!”, but says it in such a way that he sounds like he is smart in the sense that he recently learned how to button his own shirt.