So SGA throws SANDBLAST which funds all the workings of SGA for the year and then some. They raise this money by getting businesses to donate items for raffle, and they get those businesses by throwing a yolk on my back and whipping my flesh. I’m schlepping (Rochelle?) around every day before and after class trying to get donations, only they don’t want to give anything to me unless I write a formal letter. Local custom or something I hate this. So I go back, with the letter, and then I get the donation. Only, I don’t have any envelopes. So I go to the Dean and beg for envelopes. He says that they don’t have any envelopes for SGA, but I could get some if I went and had a stamp made (How do they not already have one? How is this my job?). So I go and get a stamp made for SGA. Oh wait, here are some envelopes from last year. AGARAGA!
If I controlled the world, I would just walk into every business with a typewriter. A very noisy typewriter. And anyone who felt the need to ask a stressed out student to type a personal letter would get to HEAR ME TYPE IT IN YOUR FACE!
More fun things about SGA: people complain to you constantly. People complain that you’re no fun to complain to. The professors want your cell number and call you to pitch ideas for the class. This segues nicely into Biochem, were I’m learning about cyanide.
Kelly (a white african american with a girl’s name) and his roomate Sam (just plain old white) were giggling all week waiting for their spear guns to come in. Spear gun fishing is illegal here with a penalty of 8000EC (the value of a nice car). They just don’t care. They came back yesterday lobster red, grinning, with no fish. What did they do? Speared the sand, a lot. “Topher, you don’t know. It’s so cool just to watch it stab the water!” Once again, the future doctors of America.
Action movies have been completely ruined for me. Just so everyone knows, if you got shot in the shoulder, your life is ruined. Shot in the chest, life ruined. Your body is so packed with important stuff that if there WAS extra room anywhere, we would all probably have another organ to fill the space, just so you couldn’t get shot there either. Ever laugh when someone gets killed in a Japanese flick by a single arrow? Don’t laugh; that guy is really dead.
still studying, topher.