And Now For Something Completely Different

I'm tired of ranting for a while. It's the end of the semester, and I have two papers due, which, if put together, would equal half of a novella. I have student portfolios coming to me this Friday for a grade (39 of them). I'm thinking of using the stair method of grading. You go up the stairs, throw them off the top stair, and whichever portfolios hit closest to you are A's and so on down the stairs. I'm getting close to being finished, and all the preplanning for this semester has really paid off. But, I'm not done yet. I think if I have to read one more scholarly article talking about the "discursive practices" of something, I'll scream.

So, to blow off steam, Director/Buddy and I went to the fights in town on Friday. Wow, was that a good time! Maybe it was just stress issues, but what is it about watching two sides of beef beat the hell out of each other that's just so...fantastic? The fights were held in a ballroom at the Waterfront Hotel. This town is so small you can rub shoulders with the movers and shakers of this town (or accidentally spill your beer on them, if you get excited over a knockdown). The ballroom was big enough to hold the ring, special tables for the high dollar patrons, and probably 8 rows of seats around the room for the peanut gallery, which I happily claim to be a part of. It was a good idea, anyway, to be in the back. Two gals screaming at the beef moving around, cussing at the boxers, at the people in front of them, whooping with beer in their hands probably need to stand in the back where they have room to do those things. I'm glad I didn't wear heels. I'm sure I would've toppled over. After the fight, I stole an orange safety cone out of the parking garage. I'm not sure why; I needed it at the time. It's still in my trunk. Beer, fights and petty theft. An OK way to get out from in under the pressure of the semester.

This particular week is going to be hell on wheels, as all my work comes due before, not during, finals week. Fortunately, I have Navy Buddy here to distract me, if necessary. Director/Buddy has been good enough to plan another tentative Honi-Honi trip immediately following this work week from hell now that the weather is warmer. I've learned a few lessons from the last Honi-Honi experience. A) don't dance with younger boys, as their parents may be lurking around--or at least do an ID check; B) apply sunscreen, and apply it early; C) drinks do not belong on the dance floor.

Wish me sanity! This week is a bitch.

-- Virgil