I slaved away for HOURS this weekend. Never during my tenure at Metro or EVER have I studied that intensely. It was not even cramming, but studying just to do so, with the hope that I might actually understand what is going on in that class.
What do I have to show for it? Absolutely nothing. It’s funny how irony keeps biting me in the ass. Just for the record, Red Bull is gross and doesn’t work—don’t buy it.
Alex, thanks for the offer. I’ll take you up on it, just let me log some hours with Stohr first.
As much as I hate that class, I love it because it’s so hilarious! I also love how she tries to squeeze the discussion of 20 or so odd problems in to the last five minutes of class.
When musical “artists” write songs, is it really for themselves? This morning Destiny’s Child’s “Soldier” played on the radio, and I started thinking: do they really want a guy with hood status and a gleaming grill? I highly doubt that. You know, the closest thing Beyonce’s interested in that even remotely resembles that is Jay-Z.