Make your own free website on Tripod.com

February 15th 2002
Exactly 3 weeks until I burst from my cocoon of helpless childhood into the butterfly of govt approved adulthood. First thing on my coming-of-age agenda is to become armed and dangerous. I went and chatted with some gun shop psychos after school today, and after listening to buzzcut-and-facial-tic customer expound on the virtues of the nazi MG42 machine gun, I tried to bargain down the price of that sweet Makarov 9mm I was referring to earlier. Aparently the $150 version is churned out by RED CHINA, and of course the commies produce crap which is not carried by this fine establishment. so if you want a quality Russian model, who although more or less equally commie apparently know their guns a lot better than chinks, well then you have to shell out $275. Cripes, why don't I just break the bank and get a 10 thousand dollar glock, you nutty only-open-3-days-a-week gun store clerk. So my gun purchasing decision is again thrown into disarray. 21 days... then I can get a day job swilling beer and blowing up junk tvs. that will be worth dropping out of school for, yes.
Speaking of which I got a 96% on a calculus test that I had not studied for, had not shown up to class for a week prior to, and was not aware of what the test would even cover. It turns out it was all about logarithms, a mathematical concept I was wholly unfamiliar with. 5 minutes into this test I still knew nothing about logs, and was considering dropping the class. Then I started experimenting randomly with my programmable calculator. 20 minutes into the test, I knew everything there is to know about logs, and ended up finishing the test 10 minutes early. Thats how you survive college godammit.
Incidently this class is taught by a thick accented Japanese man who is so dramatically uncoordinated I shudder to imagine him navigating Highway 40 every morning. This guy sprawls out his notes across 4 chalk boards and runs full tilt back and forth from board to board to tap incesantly at every fifth word that is suposedly vital to our understanding. This results in him slamming into either a desk or a wall at least once a class period. I will never forget Ryo Ohashi's overflowing pocket protector and manic chalk smeared face. A man with a passion. A passion for calculus.