I arrived at my first class today 20 minutes late. I normally only allow myself to be five minutes late to a class, because I wait until the last minute to do any assignment for any class. This usually leads to me being late by a minute or two. Today, however, I was quite sure I had an annotated bibliography due. I needed to have at least five sources listed on this bibliography, and finding sources and keeping up on MLA citation format (I also had to decide what I would write my paper over) took longer than I expected. Instead of spending ten minutes on the process, I spent 30.
I'm drinking a Samuel Adams Noble Pils. It's hoppy as shit, but (I mean and) I like it.
Anyway, I got that shit done, and Google Docs made my margins too big. I wasn't all that upset about it; it's never gotten me in trouble in the past. By the time I got that shit printed out I was already 19 minutes late. I don't know why, but I just haven't been getting worried about shit lately, so I didn't really mind being late for class. I ran down the stairs and made my entrance. No one seemed to notice. I pulled out my syllabus to find out what we were doing in class, and I noticed that it said the annotated bibliography wasn't due until goddamn Thursday. Boy did I feel like a dick loushe.
I had trouble staying awake through the movie we watched in class, and I felt as though it would never end. Finally, it did end, and the professor announced he had finished grading our midterm exams. I was nervous, as I always am, because I always go into exams without really having any knowledge of what is going on. Usually my fantastic writing skill are enough to earn me an A or a B, but I still feel every time that I am going to fuck up big time (sometimes I do). Boy was I surprised to find that he had left me several comments in the margins of my essays stating, "Very good," and, "Good," and "Excellent!" At the end I was even more surprised to find, "100% Excellent!" I've never received a 100 percent on an exam in any of this professors courses. I was very happy about this shit. I left that class hoping my midterm that I was likely to get back in my next class wouldn't ruin my good day.
My next class was logic. To make up for my tardiness in Film History, I arrived 50 minutes early. I spent my time tweeting and reading emails and blog posts on ZDNet. When the teacher walked in, he announced that there were 11 As on the test and only one 100 percent. This was very sad to me, because I was hoping to get a 100 percent on the test, and there is one girl in the class who does slightly better than me. I think that's hot and I want to fuck her, even if she isn't that attractive physically. I got my second surprise of the day when my test had a 48 with a circle around it on the last page. There were only two Fs in the class on this test, and I told the gild sitting next to me that it was my first F in the class. I explained that the 48 was probably my percentage. I was only kidding, and I knew for a fact that the test was out of 48 points. I thought about asking him who got the 100 percent so he could tell me I was the one to get it in front of the whole class. I decided against this mode of action because there are several stupid people in my class, and I don't think I could take them all at once (sexually) if I were to trod on their freedom as Americans.
Walking out of class, I decided to call my dear friend Jessica to tell her the good news. She didn't answer, and I hope it wasn't because she had died before I could talk to her. That would be sad. I decided in stead to blog about it with block paragraphs.
The sad thing is, I'm only going to get a B on my next returned midterm exam, because it was take-home, and the two hours I left myself before it was due wasn't long enough to answer every question and span the required eight pages. Oh well. I guess a B will have to do. I'm just going to kill myself now is all.
