Take Your Pick Tuesday - What does this blog need?

This blog has what appears to be a dynamite author, but word on the street is that it still needs a little somethin' somethin'. What do you think?

What does this blog need?
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I proctored the SATs.

I do it fairly often. It is boring. How boring, you ask? Well, on a scale of filing your taxes to having a threesome with two members of Jersey Shore (Pauly D and Vinnie, thankyouverymuch), proctoring the SATs falls squarely near the 1040-EZs rather than the GTL.

The only thing worse than getting up at 6 am on a Saturday to proctor the SATs might be actually taking the SATs... nope, proctoring is still worse.

• The SATs are kind of a bitch. They may have changed since your day (if they even had SATs back in 1602 or whenever you all were in high school), but the whole test-taking process is about 5 hours including testing and mandatory breaks. However, that being said, I reiterate that they are only kind of a bitch. The real bitch, the ex-girlfriend-who-cut-up-your-favorite-shirt-and-put-sugar-in-your-gas-tank-and-threw-a-frozen-turkey-through-your-living-room-window-last-Thanksgiving sort of bitch, is the bar exam. Which I took and passed with flying colors on the first time around (they don't tell you how well you did, so I clearly scored #1 out of 875 million... obvi.) I have no use for these whiny, entitled children and their scary little SATs.
• These wee babes think their entire lives depend on this test. I want to smack them all and say "guess what, it doesn't matter - you could get a 1520 or a 4 or a 2260 or a 4357895934857.8, and you'll probably still end up a highly educated 29-year-old mid-level administrator at a regionally recognized university who lives paycheck to paycheck and sometimes eats frozen yogurt for all three meals in a day." I'm not projecting.
• At this particular session, the SATs went swimmingly until about three hours in, at which point I believe a full harem (clan?) of bagpipers descended upon the testing site. Despite the best efforts of my fellow proctor and I, closing every window could not stop the aural assault. I do not lie when I say that the bagpipers piped for about an hour and a half... they kept stopping intermittently, leading us to believe that the Celtic fun was over, but after a few minutes they would start their jam session again. While the bagpipers may have disturbed the test-takers, I'm fairly certain that my dance accompaniment worked in their favor.
• One of the kids asked if we closed the windows because of the bagpipe noise. I'm pretty sure he'll be headed to Harvard. Get ready for an intellectual powerhouse, Crimson!
• I learned that the SAT-taking uniform for young ladies consists of a college sweatshirt (presumably from their intended university, but also possibly from their herpes-ridden frat-house boyfriend from the state school), second-skin leggings through which you can essentially see their uteri, and Ugg boots that smell like moist woolen feet.
• One of the kids looked exactly like Jamie Walters, aka Ray Pruit from the original (and one and only) Beverly Hills, 90210. This 17-year-old looked so much like Ray Pruit that I had to make an actual concerted physical effort not to push him down the stairs à la Palm Springs and scream "Donna Martin graduates." I sat on my hands until the urge passed. Several times.