December 16th, 2003

krazy kat

His Last Encounter with Brilliance

Earlier this morning I had my German final exam. At 8:00. Ugh.

Now you have to realize a couple of things about my German class. First, the exam was worth 40% of the final grade, and I was going into it with a 98.5% average. Thus (passing grade at UofC being 50%) a tiny bit of math would show you that I could have gotten a big fat ZERO on the final, and still passed the course.

Second, I was taking the course purely out of interest (and because it's a prerequisite to any number of later German courses that I may or may not want to take). I can not use it for credit towards my degree at all -- even if I wanted to; I can only take 9 first-year courses for credit, and I already have 11, thanks to to the way they assigned credit from AUS and from IB and whatnot.

The upshot being that it was a total throwaway exam -- beyond cheating and getting thrown out or something stupid, nothing I could have done would have made really any difference at all.

So ok. Consider: it's 4:30AM, I'm bored out of my skull, looking for a way to kill a couple hours before my exam starts.

Ya' know? Sean being bored is rarely a good sign. It usually means he's going to do something stupid soon.


So it is in this frame of mind that I get to thinking... I have 14 bottles of beer in the fridge and 3 hours to kill... and how often do you ever get to say that you went in to a final exam totally pissed out of your mind? I mean, if nothing else, this would make for good stories later, right?

The more I think about this, the "better" an idea it seems to be. And I mean, if I'm ever going to get royally hosed before an exam, this is the perfect time for it.

So I start drinkins. Counting up now, there are 9 empties in the box (and 5 full ones still in the fridge). Plus my (heretofore almost full) 13-oz bottle of gin is now half-empty. God only knows what I mixed it with, if anything.


And yes, I'm using this roundabout way to determine my consumption because the sad part is, I don't remember a thing. After being on my 5th or 6th or so beer at about 6:30AM, the next thing I remember with any degree of certainty is waking up with a (still present) hangover at 6:30PM.

Sigh, and after all that... for all I know I never even went to the exam.

Actually, that's not quite true. My last assignment from that course is now sitting on my desk, while it was previously not in my possession; thus I must have gone, at least to pick the assignment up.

But beyond that, I have a rather disconcerting lack of stories to tell.


O well. Maybe next time :-P


scritch, scratch, scrape
scritch, scratch, scrape
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