Why I love Finals

Yeah, I'm retarded for saying it, but I kinda love finals. People moan and bitch about finals more than just about anything else, but let's be honest with ourselves, there are worse things to be doing. Tonight I'm reading shakespeare plays I should have read 2 months ago, and listening to a huge list of country music that I should have started at the beginning of the class quite a few weeks ago. And I am stressed, drinking too much Diet Coke, and well on my way to smoking both of the buy-one-get-one-free Parliament's I bought at run in jim's today. But I could be digging ditches, painting houses, working in a factory, sweeping floors, or any other shitass job that doesn't promise to help me get to a better tommorow. Suffering of this kind isn't quite as bitter when you stop to think you're doing it for something worthwhile; and don't give me the bullshit about not getting a job, you'll all get jobs somewhere better than wal-mart. So let's try to have a few less pity-me away messages, and get a little more excited about what we're doing here; plus, once finals are over, we can all go get really fuckin wasted. That should perk you up if the damn positive goals don't.

Confidence

Ate at ramshead dining hall twice today. That's twice more than the rest of my life. Seems like quite the turning point in my life as a senior. Also wasted most of the day sleeping and eating; "Everything" bagels are damn good for the money. Too bad exams have to happen at some point, and for me they are knocking on the door. Not yet a priority, so not yet am I working on them. And yes...Beer didn't help the focus. Goddamn beer, always there when free time is present; always looking for an opportunity to keep us from achieving our goals. And always ripe to distract us with some terrible latenight discovery channel show about building distroyers or some such bullshit. And then there's the cloud of sparta hanging over my head. Guess I better make the most of the week to waste; unless this plot to deepfry a turkey works out, then its damn sure golden.

Absolute Zero

Since I go to a school pretty big on science, I have to clarify that this doesn't mean REAL absolute zero (some of those chemistry nerds already IMed me), rather, it means that I haven't done shit. Not damn shit. At all. It was a unique time, really. I managed to fuck up the easiest week/weekend of my life already. I lit a cigarette on a stove. Yeah, that's fuckin redneck as hell. I learned it from my mom. Later on in the week, I managed to get my nose busted by a drunk girl in a laundry room. Blood all over the shirt, it was awesome. That's what you get for drinking LIT's at Top O and thinking you should be a gentleman. I managed to sleep through work the next morning, around 9am. The alarm went off, the snooze button was hit, and over I rolled. DAMNIT. I was struck by the lethargy, and the results weren't great. Today being sunday, I woke up around 2. Did some laundry, did some cleaning. Took a nap at 6. What the Fuck. Perhaps it had something to do with my decision to try and avoid caffiene for the entire day; let me just say, that doesn't work at all. Something else that doesn't work is my laptop battery. Now I guess I have an overly expensive and extremely small Desktop system (thanks a goddamn lot IBM). It's now 3 am. I have nothing to do tommorow. Here we go again...

addictive like crack

Procrastination is addictive. Damn addictive. Once it gets those hooks in your brain, and you feel that rush of starting the 10pg paper due tommorow at 1am, its game over. You're hooked. And that's just the beginning; you never realize its a GATEWAY drug. Next thing you know, you're walking to the coke machine at 3 am, bumming cigarettes off your neighbor all night long, eating Chickfila biscuits like mana from heaven. You sleep late, drive to campus, and blow $9 on parking. You don't shave. You don't call your parents; they worry sick about you and leave voicemails. You put off showers so you can check facebook and make sure away messages haven't changed in the last 2 minutes while you were reading CNN.com. Worst of all, you start making excuses; you miss the big meeting, the early deadline, the first draft. Pretty soon, you can't get a rush until you're actually LATE in turning in assignments. That's when the grades drop. You start stealing for cash to buy just one more redbull. Your teeth turn yellow from all the coffee. And your face hasn't been shaven since midterms...You see where this is going. One day the roommates will find you face down on the keyboard, half-empty redbull in one hand, the other still rightclicked on that last away message in the "Carolina peeps" section...

Review day

1. Why has Cheerwine existed since 1917, yet still not made it to nationwide distribution?
2. Why are some dumbass people afraid to drink Eggnog?
3. What would ever lead someone to ask "What's the One Thing we should take away from this class?" in a review session for a multiple choice test?
4. How can some people achieve senior status at a major university like UNC without understanding the basic functions of a Listserv
-----4b. and how can they manage to always reply to the Listserv, despite being told not to?
5. How come Cosmic Cantina doesn't deliver?
6. How come Miami Subs does?
7. Why isn't there an advanced level of Ultimate Frisbee class?
8. What the fuck is Burger King's problem?
9. Why can't Dan Findlay hear comments spoken directly to him from the room next door?
10. What the fuck did I just waste this much time doing this list for? (perhaps the only one with an easy answer)

Hickory Smoke Flavor

These days I suck at consistency. It's hard to make it to the grocery store every week (except to buy alcohol), really tough to make it to the SRC every day, kinda hard for me to get up for work on time, and damn sure impossible for me to ever do any assignment more than a Day in advance. Into this mix comes an old friend in new clothes; since the summertime, it has been a dream to partake of the barbecue from Allen & Sons. I heard lots of good things, I saw some nice reviews, but try as I might, it was an impossible task to make it the few miles down 86 that seperated me from the pulled pork palace. In perhaps the most odd turn of events ever to occur in my working-at-the-union life, a visit to my superbitch managing directors house brought me to the impossible dream. Yes, Mrs. Watkins decided that our christmas celebration must occur at her newly completed, no way she payed for that with State Money mansion. Obviously all of Ops was appalled at the prospect of being required to celebrate the end of the semester at the house of a women so universially disliked. But then, the word came down: Catering by Allen & Sons. Boom, we rolled. And quite an impression im sure we made, with Jason Strange still grappling with the effects of the force (6 cans lemonade concentrate, 6 red bulls, 12 beers, 1 handle vodka, ice) and myself transporting 2 empty kegs from friday in the back. The rest of the crew was forced to ride with manager ashley, listening to gospel and christian alternative the entire 20 min drive. But boy, wasn't that rich smoked taste and moist flavorful pork worth it? oh yes, I think it was . And just so you know, we were also the first department to leave in masse. We don't fuck around.