If "ifs" and "buts" were candy and nuts, we'd all have a wonderful Christmas
I'm bored, might as well write something here.
So I went and got a degree evaluation yesterday after having not spoken to an academic advisor since '97. Oh wait, that should say nineteen fucking ninety fucking seven. My records required the efforts of 7 enslaved peoples to lift from their place of rest, as they were inscribed upon stone tablets in the arcane runes of some long forgotten language. Seriously, 8 YEARS since I've bothered consulting someone on my academic career. It had been so long the academic advising office must have thought I was either dead or lost in the 4th dimension. That's what I'm assuming, since when I said "Hey, I'm Todd Diamond" they were like "TELL US OF YOUR ADVENTURES!" My actual transcript was chock full of mystery, intrigue, plot twists, heart ache, and deception. Slap on a cover featuring a shirtless Fabio and I could sell this thing in the check out lines of supermarkets and make a killing. After evaluating the classes I've taken and crunching some numbers, it was determined that I have well over the required number of credits to graduate, but only 80 of a necessary 120 that actually count towards anything. How could that be? Well, it would seem I was so enamored with certain classes that I decided to take them every year for several years in a row. For example, it was noted that I had taken English 202 no less than 3 times. Was it because of poor grades? No, I never earned lower than a B. Apparently the very mention of "Texts and Contexts" just gives me the biggest boner imagineable to man. The same with Biology 103, several other english classes, and some Communications class. Conclusion: I am an idiot. Perhaps my technique of dropping the schedule of classes to the floor and registering for whatever was on the page the booklet fell open to was not as foolproof as it once seemed. So now I have 40 goddamned credits I need to complete to graduate. 40. My ten year college plan has been upgraded to the platinum 15 year edition. On the plus side, I was told that because I've switched majors so many times, I'm equally far along towards my pick of an English, Communications, or Art degree, with whatever I don't choose becoming a minor. I'm thinking that by the time I graduate it will have taken me so long that I may as well go for the triple major as a means of explaining myself. That way when I apply for a job and my potential employer says "Wait, it says here you graduated when you were 30?!" I can respond with "That's cuz I was gettin' a triple major, bitch!" Then she'll be like "Did you just call me a bitch?! NO JOB FOR YOU!" Really though, I just want an excuse to refer to my diploma as "The Triforce."
Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith comes out soon. I can't stomach cereal, but the other day I spent five bucks on a box of Sugar Smacks so I could get a light up spoon with a lightsaber handle. Can we assume my state of mind on this matter is clear?
I've been watching a shit ton of Smallville lately, which I thought would be embarassing to admit until I reread my last little paragraph. It's a completely formulaic teen angst drama, the likes of which can be found on any number of networks from 8-9pm on weekday nights, but it's amazing to me how by simply injecting Superman's mythology into something I normally find repugnant, I'm suddenly and completely captivated. Every time they make some subtle reference to a part of Superman canon that extends beyond the casual fans frame of reference I am consumed by jubilation. I saw an episode the other day where some dude had the ability to see ones death simply by touching that person. He was bumping into folks, and on screen we saw their passing, be it peaceful and natural, or premature and ugly. Then he grabbed Clark Kents hand, and proclaimed that for the first time ever, he couldn't see someones death. We, the viewers, get to see his vision, and it's a view of the earth from outer space. Suddenly, from one corner, a red cape with a yellow S comes billowing briefly into view. OMFGWHATTHESHITAWESOME! Don't even get me started on the first time Clark flew. I dry humped my television until it exploded.
I've got two new roommates moving into my house at the end of this week. I haven't met them, and know next to nothing about them other than that they are friends of my 4th housemate. I do know that one is a boy and one is a girl. When I meet them, I plan to immediately punch the dude in the face to establish my role of dominance as the alpha male. Tensions may run high, but I anticipate that this will also result in a decrease of dirty dishes left in the sink.
Ummmmmmmm, yeah, I started this with no purpose, I'll end this with no purpose. Maybe I'll post these though:
Poorly drawn, hastily produced, painfully unfunny comics I made, booyashaka!
http://www.bombunists.com/comics/cellphone.jpg
http://www.bombunists.com/comics/secondcellphone2.jpg
http://www.bombunists.com/comics/spacestrip2.jpg
So I went and got a degree evaluation yesterday after having not spoken to an academic advisor since '97. Oh wait, that should say nineteen fucking ninety fucking seven. My records required the efforts of 7 enslaved peoples to lift from their place of rest, as they were inscribed upon stone tablets in the arcane runes of some long forgotten language. Seriously, 8 YEARS since I've bothered consulting someone on my academic career. It had been so long the academic advising office must have thought I was either dead or lost in the 4th dimension. That's what I'm assuming, since when I said "Hey, I'm Todd Diamond" they were like "TELL US OF YOUR ADVENTURES!" My actual transcript was chock full of mystery, intrigue, plot twists, heart ache, and deception. Slap on a cover featuring a shirtless Fabio and I could sell this thing in the check out lines of supermarkets and make a killing. After evaluating the classes I've taken and crunching some numbers, it was determined that I have well over the required number of credits to graduate, but only 80 of a necessary 120 that actually count towards anything. How could that be? Well, it would seem I was so enamored with certain classes that I decided to take them every year for several years in a row. For example, it was noted that I had taken English 202 no less than 3 times. Was it because of poor grades? No, I never earned lower than a B. Apparently the very mention of "Texts and Contexts" just gives me the biggest boner imagineable to man. The same with Biology 103, several other english classes, and some Communications class. Conclusion: I am an idiot. Perhaps my technique of dropping the schedule of classes to the floor and registering for whatever was on the page the booklet fell open to was not as foolproof as it once seemed. So now I have 40 goddamned credits I need to complete to graduate. 40. My ten year college plan has been upgraded to the platinum 15 year edition. On the plus side, I was told that because I've switched majors so many times, I'm equally far along towards my pick of an English, Communications, or Art degree, with whatever I don't choose becoming a minor. I'm thinking that by the time I graduate it will have taken me so long that I may as well go for the triple major as a means of explaining myself. That way when I apply for a job and my potential employer says "Wait, it says here you graduated when you were 30?!" I can respond with "That's cuz I was gettin' a triple major, bitch!" Then she'll be like "Did you just call me a bitch?! NO JOB FOR YOU!" Really though, I just want an excuse to refer to my diploma as "The Triforce."
Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith comes out soon. I can't stomach cereal, but the other day I spent five bucks on a box of Sugar Smacks so I could get a light up spoon with a lightsaber handle. Can we assume my state of mind on this matter is clear?
I've been watching a shit ton of Smallville lately, which I thought would be embarassing to admit until I reread my last little paragraph. It's a completely formulaic teen angst drama, the likes of which can be found on any number of networks from 8-9pm on weekday nights, but it's amazing to me how by simply injecting Superman's mythology into something I normally find repugnant, I'm suddenly and completely captivated. Every time they make some subtle reference to a part of Superman canon that extends beyond the casual fans frame of reference I am consumed by jubilation. I saw an episode the other day where some dude had the ability to see ones death simply by touching that person. He was bumping into folks, and on screen we saw their passing, be it peaceful and natural, or premature and ugly. Then he grabbed Clark Kents hand, and proclaimed that for the first time ever, he couldn't see someones death. We, the viewers, get to see his vision, and it's a view of the earth from outer space. Suddenly, from one corner, a red cape with a yellow S comes billowing briefly into view. OMFGWHATTHESHITAWESOME! Don't even get me started on the first time Clark flew. I dry humped my television until it exploded.
I've got two new roommates moving into my house at the end of this week. I haven't met them, and know next to nothing about them other than that they are friends of my 4th housemate. I do know that one is a boy and one is a girl. When I meet them, I plan to immediately punch the dude in the face to establish my role of dominance as the alpha male. Tensions may run high, but I anticipate that this will also result in a decrease of dirty dishes left in the sink.
Ummmmmmmm, yeah, I started this with no purpose, I'll end this with no purpose. Maybe I'll post these though:
Poorly drawn, hastily produced, painfully unfunny comics I made, booyashaka!
http://www.bombunists.com/comics/cellphone.jpg
http://www.bombunists.com/comics/secondcellphone2.jpg
http://www.bombunists.com/comics/spacestrip2.jpg
