Finals
Everybody knows that Finals suck. Even if you've never taken a college course in your entire life, you have at one point probably been exposed to someone under the strain of finals. Now I myself have only two classes to contend with at the end of the semester, but believe me, it still ain't easy. This is mainly due to the fact that life does not pause for finals. It keeps on going, sometimes even faster than usually. It is very hard to keep up with. Another speed bump on the road to finals are the instructors themselves. My math teacher thinks that passing the final requires that I do over a hundred problems in less than two hours, and my lit teacher is assuming that I will have a better chance of passing if I write my paper three different times. I've come to the conclusion that these people aren't simply handing out knowledge, but hoping that i well learn some sort of valuable lesson via sheer torture. obviously, their plans have failed miserable. All i have learned is that a) math teachers are evil *no offense Andy* b) I like Walt Whitman and c) no paper is worth writing if it's not worth writing several times. oh also the hot chicks will talk to you if they think you're smart.
so in conclusion my life has been hell this week, well more so than usual. so take it easy on your local college student. they might just blow up and kill you.
Posted by cainnum at 2:23 PM
5 Comments
I may not be hot, but I DEFINATELY think that smart guys are hot. I'm not saying I'd do Stephen Hawkings, but guys that are smart and can motivate themselves under their own power are smoking!
If I were going to murder someone, I woould do it at the end of the semester, so that as I killed them, I could make a pun about their 'final exam'.
I haven't actually worked out the specific wording, because I want it to seem spontaneous when it happens.
Uh...don't you mean "IF it happens"? I hope so, cause that would make it 35% less creepy. And, I'm not a hot chick, but I like guys who are either hot and kinda dim, or hot guys who I perceive as being ridiculously smarter than I am. Oh wait...that just makes me shallow. Nevermind.
Ya, maybe that joke did cross a line of creepiness.
On the other hand I'm posting on a blog with a poem that may or may not be about the beauty of pooping, so I can feel like I'm taking the heeby-jeebies down a notch.
Also, I used to kind of dig on final exams. If the class is worth anything, then it's sort of a look back, and seeing all the stuff you've learned. And the pressure of it has its own little smell of academia. Wait, I guess I'm not remembering my life, I'm remembering the movie "The Paper Chase." That movie sure made finals look awesome.
the poem itself was not about pooping, but it started with the things i was doing when i was reading walt whitman, one of which was pooping
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