so busy....
One week before Spring break - two tests, one quiz, two projects.... ugh. I comfort myself with the knowledge that seven days from now I shall be working on my tan in DC. ha.
This morning I came to studio early to get a good start on the day. In the hall way I encountered my crazy prof from last semester. Last week the University newspaper featured an article on him, his enslavement of us to build his dream racecar museum, and the "possibility" of it becoming a reality in France. In the article he is quoted as saying a colleague will be showing his design to race officials, and that he is "optimistic" about its chances of being built. When this colleague was presented with the article, he had no knowledge of his involvement - "What the hell does he expect me to do? Call up the president of France?" My former prof designed this for his own amusement. He really does not understand that France shall never build his billion dollar museum, especially since it was never commissioned.
So it's early Sunday morning, and where else would my crazy prof be, but in the very School of Architecture that is revoking his tenure and slowly firing him. He approaches me and says, "So I've enlisted the help of Paul Newman." I really try not to laugh, to simply back away slowly. I say, "The Paul Newman?" He tells me his plan to befriend Paul Newman, who will put in a few good words to the Franch race officials for him. In his quest to know Mr. Newman, he tells me he has learned quite a lot about emailing and computers. Last semester my prof explicitly stated he never uses email, only surfs the web for buying model racecars and racecar paraphernalia. He had never known how to type, and tossed notes at random female students for them to type and distribute to the class. But I guess he has found a friend in Paul Newman and things are looking up.
This morning I came to studio early to get a good start on the day. In the hall way I encountered my crazy prof from last semester. Last week the University newspaper featured an article on him, his enslavement of us to build his dream racecar museum, and the "possibility" of it becoming a reality in France. In the article he is quoted as saying a colleague will be showing his design to race officials, and that he is "optimistic" about its chances of being built. When this colleague was presented with the article, he had no knowledge of his involvement - "What the hell does he expect me to do? Call up the president of France?" My former prof designed this for his own amusement. He really does not understand that France shall never build his billion dollar museum, especially since it was never commissioned.
So it's early Sunday morning, and where else would my crazy prof be, but in the very School of Architecture that is revoking his tenure and slowly firing him. He approaches me and says, "So I've enlisted the help of Paul Newman." I really try not to laugh, to simply back away slowly. I say, "The Paul Newman?" He tells me his plan to befriend Paul Newman, who will put in a few good words to the Franch race officials for him. In his quest to know Mr. Newman, he tells me he has learned quite a lot about emailing and computers. Last semester my prof explicitly stated he never uses email, only surfs the web for buying model racecars and racecar paraphernalia. He had never known how to type, and tossed notes at random female students for them to type and distribute to the class. But I guess he has found a friend in Paul Newman and things are looking up.