College Daze
[ 3 Comments ] Posted on 06.27.06 in UF, college
Boy, does college look great.
I went to preview last week to register for my classes and to get the obligatory don’t-do-drugs-or-drink-because-you-will-die speeches. I had to pick a major. I think that’ll prove to be the hardest part of college.
I finally picked a beginning major of political science. Yeah, I know: everybody and their mother takes political science. And, you know, the world always needs more politicians. But I figure that someday I might be able to declare a dual major or a minor or get a certificate in Public Affairs or something of that sort. And then, who knows? Maybe I’ll go to the state and volunteer to take up teaching. God knows that we need fewer morons in front of the class, and the benefits of free coffee and summers off intrigue me.
But the best part? Well, I’m taking 12 credit hours of classes during the first semester, which is the bare minimum to be a full time student, which is the only way I can live the next few years of my life off of the benevolent taxpayers of the state of Florida. I conveniently scheduled my classes such that two of the four courses I take are solely internet-based courses. And the other two, American Federal Government and U.S. History to 1877, will take up a mere seven hours of my week: three hours on Monday and Wednesday, and only one hour on Thursday.
What ever will I do with myself?
There Aren’t Enough Hours in a Day
[ 5 Comments ] Posted on 06.13.06 in random
So, I’ve completely messed up my sleep schedule.
Generally speaking, now that it’s summer, I stay up for 13 hours daily and sleep for the remaining 11. But I have a nasty habit of going to bed later each night than I did before, so my daily routine of going to bed at 4:00 A.M. and waking up at 3:00 is slowly turning into a progressive cycle in which I will soon go to bed at 5:00 and wake up at 4:00. Five o’clock will soon turn into 6:00 A.M., at which time I don’t think I will be able to justify going to sleep at the beginning of a new day.
I wish people had daylight savings time every other day. Then, I wouldn’t have to worry about anything.
Here, Fishy Fishy
[ 3 Comments ] Posted on 06.05.06 in friends, funny stories
Last night, I went fishing with my good buddy Angus.
We loaded up Dad’s old pickup and headed out at 9:00, not leaving the pier until 1:30 in the morning. Now, I am not afraid to admit that I am not a trophy fisherman. In fact, something the television never taught me were the harsh reality of an angler’s life: expensive shrimp, slimy fish, and the pressure of watchful and knowledgeable eyes on the dock.
First off, I didn’t know how many shrimp to get. So I went with three dozen.
“I’d like three dozen medium shrimp, please.”
“We only have jumbo.”
“Okay, I’d like three dozen jumbo shrimp, please.”
“That’ll be $18.00.”
“Ooooooooh. Okay, I guess.”
So, I overshot the amount of jumbo shrimp we would need. Who knew? If those last 15 shrimp had lived through the night in the cramped recesses of my outrageously small bait bucket, they’d be really relieved that I let them go at the end of the night. But they didn’t. So they weren’t. Oh well.
And secondly: why in God’s name did God decide to make these fish so ungodly wet and slimy and icky? I know I sound girly and all, but good golly. These things are so gross! So, I left all the fish touching to my good buddy Angus. I know, he is more of a man than I will ever be. But without the soft, sensitive type of person that I have come to represent, how would Jerry’s Kids ever make any money? You think big, burly lumberjack types would add a dollar to their purchase of maple syrup and whiskey at the local Walgreen’s? I think not.
Coincidentally, one of these big, burly lumberjack types was at the pier last night. And he was quite the fisherman. You could look down the wooden structure to see this fat dude, sitting on his cooler, watching his four fishing poles and smoking his Lucky Stripes. It’s guys like this that make me wary of repeating the fishing experience. Here I am, flinching when grabbing my overpriced jumbo shrimp and trying to catch anything, and there’s this guy eyeing me up who actually knows what he’s doing. I get embarrassed easily, what can I say? I would much rather have been on my own pier, completely devoid of big, fat, burly guys named Phil who probably live in their mothers’ basements.
So, over four hours later and after hooking a baby shark (which, by the way, was ferocious) and what appeared to be a little redfish (which, by the way, was comparably ferocious), Angus and I decided to pack up and go home.
I have a newfound respect for the good people of Long John Silver’s.