(no subject)
On 4/20 I wrote an Iconographical Analysis instead of celebrating the most sacred day of the year. On Friday, I walk into class, completed paper in hand. The professor turns to me and says, "Oh, John! I tried to send you an email but it bounced back. I think I typed it in wrong. I've extended the papers until Monday." I remained calm and collected on the outside, but inside I wanted to punch a hole in a brick wall (Reagan Smash!). I'm going to polish that shit up and get a good grade. Damn, I'm a good student.