(no subject)

So, like, I decided that Monday night before an 8:30 class was a great time to sit around outside on a late-late Wisconsin winter/early-early Wisconsin spring night drinking alcohol and smoking.

My eyes feel like someone poured Elmer's glue in them, my mouth tastes like a small rodent died in there (yeah, don't worry, I still have all of the rats), my hair is doing something gravity-defying, I reek of woodsmoke, and my left pinkie finger feels like someone bopped it with a hammer. *stares* I think it's swollen, but everything's faintly scummy like I'm looking through a dirty window, so it's hard to tell. Must be the glue.

...

I felt OK when I went to bed...

I think I molested some people last night. That's OK.
I remember laying spread-eagle on the ice for five to ten minutes, wating for people to make a bridge-trip. I remember sitting on the benches at the firering with no coat and my shirt hanging on by four buttons, discussing hypothermia with Joe McDevitt. I remember helping a plowed Annie trying to make s'mores.
(MMm... drunk, stoned people and a fire... a brilliant combination! Well, no one got hurt, but Joe's lighter falling in the fire when he-- for some reason-- shucked off his bib'alls provided some fun pyrotechnics. WHOOSH! Heh-heh!)

I don't have diddly to do today! *prances* Yah! I'm gonna go find out if any dirty bastards have stolen my ice cream out of the dorm fridge yet, and then figure out if I can handle eating it right now.

(no subject)

DONEDONEDONEDONEDONE...DONE!!!!

Went to my weekly capstone meeting with Cynthia. Those of you who know how well those meetings usually go also know how I feel going into them. And I was particularly worried because she had ALL of my capstone, and this was the final review.

...

She loved it.

No, really.

She apparently had an epiphany and started getting a lot of my strange symbolic connections, and she felt that the ending was very powerful, and that I did a smashing job on the outline. She even liked my font choice.

She used less ink on the entire thing than she used to use per page.

I could have the corrections done within three hours. I could have the copies of the finished product to my committee by tomorrow.

Really, I could spend the rest of the week just doing any art that I might wish to submit with it. And that's it.

...

And I have two-- count 'em, two-- pints of B&J's Dublin Mudslide ice cream.
WOOT!