| Prof. Rozelle is a hard ass... |
[29 Sep 2004|04:56pm] |
This was an outstanding presentation. Your work showed that you were well prepared and you explained as well as showed what had to be done. That’s a very important quality in presentations. Many times it takes us a long time to “feel” if our audience is understanding or just watching. I thought your sense of “feel” was good.
The graphics were well thought out and designed. That which compared a sale and financing lease was especially useful and descriptive. I would, however, have made one more slide of just the first few lines of the amortization table so that I could make it larger and more visible all over the room. This should not replace the whole table that has great value, but the mechanics of the first few lines in big, clear figures would have been a help to learning how the table works.
You did make a very minor misstatement. You once said that a lessee capitalizes a lease at the fair market value of the property. Technically, the capitalization is at the present value of the minimum lease payments. Usually, there is no difference, but when parties begin negotiating, there can be a difference. That’s why the fourth capitalization criterion only requires the present value to be 90% or more of the fair market value. I don’t think you misled anyone because we didn’t get into that situation in our work on leases.
In summary, not perfect, so not 50, but nearly so.
49/50
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| Delusional mad man |
[28 Sep 2004|04:42pm] |
It seems that whenever I think I’ve got things figured out everything falls apart. I think this is because I wrap myself up in delusions about what I want to believe and what the reality of life is. Eventually my delusions unravel and I’m faced with the truth, not my version of what the truth is.
My graduation date being pushed back because of a lack of appropriate classes, I don’t really enjoy Kalamazoo anymore than Mt. Pleasant because I never leave my house. The whole not having friends thing blows. Those are just a couple, and probably the most insignificant of what’s wrong. My troubles run far deeper, and I can’t talk about them.
I think I over did it at the rec center yesterday, 200lbs on the back machine may have been to much, or it may have been right, I don’t know because I don’t know what I’m doing. All I know is my back is so stiff right now, but its not as bad as my arms and body felt after the first trip.
I have a presentation tomorrow, a speech Thursday, a exam Friday, so much work. I’m so fed up with school, I want a job. I want money, I want to get the fuck out of here. I don’t know where I want to go though, no place really has any appeal to me. I’ve got 3 places that I don’t think I would hate, but the reality is I’ll probably end up in metro Detroit and live a long miserable life there.
It’s really amazing how a few days can switch me from happy and delusional about life back to facing the reality of it and making me bitter, hateful and just an unpleasant person for a while.
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| To the world |
[26 Sep 2004|08:40pm] |
Dear World,
I fucking hate you. I hate nearly all the people in the world as well. I would say I more than hate them, I have nothing but contempt for them. When I go to the fucking store, I don't want to be greeted, I don't want some old person acting like I'm their fucking buddy, nor do I want the cashier to make comments on what I fucking buy. If I want to buy some God damn lube to jerk off with it shouldn't be something around which a conversation is created. When I request cash back from the U-Scan I don't want the damn cunt cashier to tell me I’m supposed to ask her if she has enough to give me when I want $60 cash back. I've so had it with people who say one thing then do something different. I'm sick of being lied to. The decent people of the world are so few in number, I would be sad if we were to all die in a nuclear war, most of us really do deserve it. I have to go to the store, I can't get around that. If i want to live i need food and stores are where you get food. I purposely go in with a glower so no one will talk to me, look at me or interact with me, though I haven't come up with one good enough to keep them from doing that. Do I need to wear a sign on my chest that says I hate you all, so don't fucking talk to me? As of today, I'm cutting out as much bullshit as I can from my life. I try to maintain hope that one day, I'll find a place for myself where things aren't like this, where I can buy things without having to talk to the cashier. Where people will do what they say, and treat me with a shred of respect. Kalamazoo has a best buy but video games just don't do it for me anymore.
Hope you are destroyed soon,
Mike
P.S. If any of you have anything to say about this, please email at mike.van.tassel@gmail.com
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[27 May 2004|02:27am] |
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my phone doesn't ring much anymore. so if you call and i don't answer its because it doesn't ring. it doesn't even tell me i've missed a call. i just suddenly get voice mail with no history of missed calls. also, if you call its imperative you leave a message or i'll never know you call and thus can't return the call.
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[24 May 2004|04:06pm] |
When enough people do something, who am I to not follow?
| PARENTAL | | ADVISORY | SOCKSNMYPOCKET CONTAINS
EXPLICIT LYRICS |
From Go-Quiz.com
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[22 May 2004|01:55am] |
With the insane thunderstorms today the power went out, and what are two dorks to two with no power you may ask? Juggle.
Eric can juggle, better than I can infact. He is way better at throwing over than I am, but I'm working on it. Anyhow what we decided to do today was try to steal the juggling balls from the guy juggling and start juggling them with no break. We eventually managed to get it and now one of us can start and we can steal them back and forth without any interuption in the cycle. We had a 6 turn volly and then I started laughing and grabbed his hand instead of his ball.
Also, Eric just got a Katana, we spent part of the afternoon throwing around potatos and slicing them in mid air. SO much fun!
When the power came back on I started playing FFXI, it's so good. I need to get a couple more levels and some great grouping will be happeing, with combat chains and magic bursts and exp linking. I'm already addicted.
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[07 May 2004|01:22am] |
Windy saved me from killing the ass terrible waitress at Lil Chef tonight.
Lets count the ways she fucked up.
I ordered a breakfast, she didn't ask how i wanted my eggs, or what kind of toast.
I ordered an ICED tea, I got warm tea in a glass with no ice.
The toast that I was supposed to get with my breakfast came after we had our bills and i asked for it two times after i got the rest of my food.
I didn't get a knife to cut my meat.
We didn't get straws. I guess that isn't so bad because I had semi warm tea that I didn't want to drink anyhow.
I got a nasty look when we were finished eating and I mentioned I still didn't get my fucking toast.
Windy was kind enough (though I think she just didn't want me to yell at the fucking bitch who decided to take an attitude with customers who she is neglecting and who are trying ot be civil with her) to round up some ice, a knife and straws, she tired to get toast too but no dice on that. Thanks for helping to prevent me from trying to assassinate her.
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| Summer Classes |
[29 Apr 2004|08:41pm] |
Summer I
GEOG 350 - CONSERV/ENVIRON MGMT
(Science credit) A critical evaluation of the management of selected natural resources with primary focus on the United States. Conflicts between environmental and economic interests are examined in both historical and contemporary contexts.
BUS 175 - BUSINESS ENTERPRISE
This course introduces students to the development and value of business institutions in society. Students will examine the dynamics of business decision making and demonstrate the ability to identify, define, and interpret essential business concepts. The relationships among business activities will be studied to determine their interactions with the economic, political, legal, global, and social environments. Juniors and seniors in the BAD curriculum may not enroll in this course.
Summer II
BUS 270 - INFO AND COMM INFRASTRUCTURE
This course provides foundational knowledge about business information and communication infrastructures. A systems approach is used to present material on enterprise, national and global information, and communication infrastructures. The student will be introduced to applications for managerial information, data warehousing, decision support systems, CAD/CAM and logistic systems within the framework of integrated business and systems strategies. Electronic communication systems in networked, extended, and virtual enterprises also will be examined. Prerequisites: BIS 102 or 110 and BIS 142; enrollment open only to sophomores, students credited with 26 to 55 credit hours.
MGT 250 (I'm not in it yet, but i'll bug the management department till they let me in!) - ORGANIZATIONAL BEHAVIOR
This course provides an examination of individual, interpersonal, group, and organization processes faced by employees. Current theory, research, and practice regarding variables that influence human behavior are discussed. Emphasis is placed on learning relevant to goal setting, managing change, team processes, reward structures, human productivity, and career management in organization settings. Prerequisite: BUS 175.
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[18 Apr 2004|10:08pm] |
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I figured this would be a great question to ask everyone. Do any of you have your own carrots? Feel free to share if you do! Go into details or just say yes or no. I do have my own carrot, though its nothing even remotely close to the horror of those but bad enough in its own way and nothing was ever said.
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[18 Apr 2004|09:59pm] |
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Windy! When are you going to seal my painting!? I'm super paranoid about it getting ruined! Also, I would like you to make me another one thats super cool, something in blue and green but a different style than this one, is that possible?
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[18 Apr 2004|12:09am] |
GUTS by Chuck Palahniuk
Inhale.
Take in as much air as you can.
This story should last about as long as you can hold your breath, and then just a little bit longer. So listen as fast as you can.
A friend of mine, when he was 13 years old he heard about "pegging." This is when a guy gets banged up the butt with a dildo. Stimulate the prostate gland hard enough, and the rumor is you can have explosive hands-free orgasms. At that age, this friend's a little sex maniac. He's always jonesing for a better way to get his rocks off. He goes out to buy a carrot and some petroleum jelly. To conduct a little private research. Then he pictures how it's going to look at the supermarket checkout counter, the lonely carrot and petroleum jelly rolling down the conveyer belt toward the grocery store cashier. All the shoppers waiting in line, watching. Everyone seeing the big evening he has planned.
So my friend, he buys milk and eggs and sugar and a carrot, all the ingredients for a carrot cake. And Vaseline. Like he's going home to stick a carrot cake up his butt.
At home, he whittles the carrot into a blunt tool. He slathers it with grease and grinds his ass down on it. Then, nothing. No orgasm. Nothing happens except it hurts. Then, this kid, his mom yells it's supper time. She says to come down, right now. He works the carrot out and stashes the slippery, filthy thing in the dirty clothes under his bed.
After dinner, he goes to find the carrot, and it's gone. All his dirty clothes, while he ate dinner, his mom grabbed them all to do laundry. No way could she not find the carrot, carefully shaped with a paring knife from her kitchen, still shiny with lube and stinky.
This friend of mine, he waits months under a black cloud, waiting for his folks to confront him. And they never do. Ever. Even now that he's grown up, that invisible carrot hangs over every Christmas dinner, every birthday party. Every Easter egg hunt with his kids, his parents' grandkids, that ghost carrot is hovering over all of them. That something too awful to name.
People in France have a phrase: "staircase wit." In French: esprit de l'escalier. It means that moment when you find the answer, but it's too late. Say you're at a party and someone insults you. You have to say something. So under pressure, with everybody watching, you say something lame. But the moment you leave the party.... As you start down the stairway, then-magic. You come up with the perfect thing you should've said. The perfect crippling put-down. That’s the spirit of the stairway. The trouble is, even the French don't have a phrase for the stupid things you actually do say under pressure. Those stupid, desperate things you actually think or do. Some deeds are too low to even get a name. Too low to even get talked about.
Looking back, kid-psych experts, school counselors now say that most of the last peak in teen suicide was kids trying to choke while they beat off. Their folks would find them, a towel twisted around their kid's neck, the towel tied to the rod in their bedroom closet, the kid dead. Dead sperm everywhere. Of course the folks cleaned up. They put some pants on their kid. They made it look ... better. Intentional at least. The regular kind of sad teen suicide.
Another friend of mine, a kid from school, his older brother in the Navy said how guys in the Middle East jack off different than we do here. This brother was stationed in some camel country where the public market sells what could be fancy letter openers. Each fancy tool is just a thin rod of polished brass or silver, maybe as long as your hand, with a big tip at one end, either a big metal ball or the kind of fancy carved handle you'd see on a sword. This Navy brother says how Arab guys get their dick hard and then insert this metal rod inside the whole length of their boner. They jack off with the rod inside, and it makes getting off so much better. More intense.
It's this big brother who travels around the world, sending back French phrases. Russian phrases. Helpful jack-off tips. After this, the little brother, one day he doesn't show up at school. That night, he calls to ask if I'll pick up his homework for the next couple weeks. Because he's in the hospital.
He's got to share a room with old people getting their guts worked on. He says how they all have to share the same television. All he's got for privacy is a curtain. His folks don't come and visit. On the phone, he says how right now his folks could just kill his big brother in the Navy.
On the phone, the kid says how-the day before-he was just a little stoned. At home in his bedroom, he was flopped on the bed. He was lighting a candle and flipping through some old porno magazines, getting ready to beat off. This is after he's heard from his Navy brother. That helpful hint about how Arabs beat off. The kid looks around for something that might do the job. A ballpoint pen's too big. A pencil's too big and rough. But dripped down the side of the candle, there's a thin, smooth ridge of wax that just might work. With just the tip of one finger, this kid snaps the long ridge of wax off the candle. He rolls it smooth between the palms of his hands. Long and smooth and thin.
Stoned and horny, he slips it down inside, deeper and deeper into the piss slit of his boner. With a good hank of the wax still poking out the top, he gets to work. Even now, he says those Arab guys are pretty damn smart. They've totally reinvented jacking off. Flat on his back in bed, things are getting so good, this kid can't keep track of the wax. He's one good squeeze from shooting his wad when the wax isn't sticking out anymore.
The thin wax rod, it's slipped inside. All the way inside. So deep inside he can't even feel the lump of it inside his piss tube. From downstairs, his mom shouts it's supper time. She says to come down, right now. This wax kid and the carrot kid are different people, but we all live pretty much the same life.
It's after dinner when the kid's guts start to hurt. It's wax, so he figured it would just melt inside him and he'd pee it out. Now his back hurts. His kidneys. He can't stand straight.
This kid talking on the phone from his hospital bed, in the background you can hear bells ding, people screaming. Game shows. The X-rays show the truth, something long and thin, bent double inside his bladder. This long, thin V inside him, it's collecting all the minerals in his piss. It's getting bigger and rougher, coated with crystals of calcium, it's bumping around, ripping up the soft lining of his bladder, blocking his piss from getting out. His kidneys are backed up. What little that leaks out his dick is red with blood.
This kid and his folks, his whole family, them looking at the black X-ray with the doctor and the nurses standing there, the big V of wax glowing white for everybody to see, he has to tell the truth. The way Arabs get off. What his big brother wrote him from the Navy. On the phone, right now, he starts to cry. They paid for the bladder operation with his college fund. One stupid mistake, and now he'll never be a lawyer. Sticking stuff inside yourself. Sticking yourself inside stuff. A candle in your dick or your head in a noose, we knew it was going to be big trouble.
What got me in trouble, I called it Pearl Diving. This meant whacking off underwater, sitting on the bottom at the deep end of my parents' swimming pool. With one deep breath, I'd kick my way to the bottom and slip off my swim trucks. I'd sit down there for two, three, four minutes.
0Just from jacking off I had huge lung capacity. If I had the house to myself, I'd do this all afternoon. After I'd finally pump out my stuff, my sperm, it would hang there in big, fat, milky gobs. After that was more diving, to catch it all. To collect it and wipe each handful in a towel. That's why it was called Pearl Diving. Even with chlorine, there was my sister to worry about. Or, Christ almighty, my mom. That used to be my worst fear in the world: my teenage virgin sister, thinking she's just getting fat, then giving birth to a two-headed, retard baby. Both heads looking just like me. Me, the father and the uncle.
In the end, it's never what you worry about that gets you. The best part of Pearl Diving was the inlet port for the swimming pool filter and the circulation pump. The best part was getting naked and sitting on it. As the French would say, Who doesn't like getting their butt sucked? Still, one minute you're just a kid getting off, and the next minute you'll never be a lawyer. One minute I'm settling on the pool bottom and the sky is wavy, light blue through eight feet of water above my head. The world is silent except for the heartbeat in my ears. My yellowstriped swim trunks are looped around my neck for safe keeping, just in case a friend, a neighbor, anybody shows up to ask why I skipped football practice. The steady suck of the pool inlet hole is lapping at me and I'm grinding my skinny white ass around on that feeling.
One minute I've got enough air and my dick's in my hand. My folks are gone at their work and my sister's got ballet. Nobody's supposed to be home for hours. My hand brings me right to getting off, and I stop. I swim up to catch another big breath. I dive down and settle on the bottom. I do this again and again. This must be why girls want to sit on your face. The suction is like taking a dump that never ends. My dick hard and getting my butt eaten out, I do not need air. My heartbeat in my ears, I stay under until bright stars of light start worming around in my eyes. My legs straight out, the back of each knee rubbed raw against the concrete bottom. My toes are turning blue, my toes and fingers wrinkled from being so long in the water. And then I let it happen. The big white gobs start spouting. The pearls. It's then I need some air. But when I go to kick off against the bottom, I can't. I can't get my feet under me. My ass is stuck. Emergency paramedics will tell you that every year about 150 people get stuck this way, sucked by a circulation pump. Get your long hair caught, or your ass, and you're going to drown. Every year, tons of people do. Most of them in Florida.
People just don't talk about it. Not even French people talk about everything. Getting one knee up, getting one foot tucked under me, I get to half standing when I feel the tug against my butt. Getting my other foot under me, I kick off against the bottom. I'm kicking free, not touching the concrete, but not getting to the air, either.Still kicking water, thrashing with both arms, I'm maybe halfway to the surface but not going higher. The heartbeat inside my head getting loud and fast. The bright sparks of light crossing and crisscrossing my eyes, I turn and look back ... but it doesn't make sense. This thick rope, some kind of snake, bluewhite and braided with veins, has come up out of the pool drain and it's holding on to my butt. Some of the veins are leaking blood, red blood that looks black underwater and drifts away from little rips in the pale skin of the snake. The blood trails away, disappearing in the water, and inside the snake's thin, bluewhite skin you can see lumps of some half-digested meal.
That's the only way this makes sense. Some horrible sea monster, a sea serpent, something that's never seen the light of day, it's been hiding in the dark bottom of the pool drain, waiting to eat me.
So ...I kick at it, at the slippery, rubbery knotted skin and veins of it, and more of it seems to pull out of the pool drain. It's maybe as long as my leg now, but still holding tight around my butthole. With another kick, I'm an inch closer to getting another breath. Still feeling the snake tug at my ass, I'm an inch closer to my escape. Knotted inside the snake, you can see corn and peanuts. You can see a long bright-orange ball. It's the kind of horsepill vitamin my dad makes me take, to help put on weight. To get a football scholarship. With extra iron and omegathree fatty acids. It's seeing that vitamin pill that saves my life.
It's not a snake. It's my large intestine, my colon pulled out of me. What doctors call prolapsed. It's my guts sucked into the drain. Paramedics will tell you a swimming pool pump pulls 80 gallons of water every minute. That's about 400 pounds of pressure. The big problem is we're all connected together inside. Your ass is just the far end of your mouth. If I let go, the pump keeps working unraveling my insides until it's got my tongue. Imagine taking a 400-pound shit and you can see how this might turn you inside out. What I can tell you is your guts don't feel much pain. Not the way your skin feels pain. The stuff you're digesting, doctors call it fecal matter. Higher up is chyme, pockets of a thin, runny mess studded with corn and peanuts and round green peas. That's all this soup of blood and corn, shit and sperm and peanuts floating around me. Even with my guts unraveling out my ass, me holding on to what's left, even then my first want is to somehow get my swimsuit back on. God forbid my folks see my dick. My one hand holding a fist around my ass, my other hand snags my yellowstriped swim trunks and pulls them from around my neck. Still, getting into them is impossible.
You want to feel your intestines, go buy a pack of those lambskin condoms. Take one out and unroll it. Pack it with peanut butter. Smear it with petroleum jelly and hold it under water. Then try to tear it. Try to pull it in half. It's too tough and rubbery. It's so slimy you can't hold on. A lambskin condom, that's just plain old intestine. You can see what I'm up against. You let go for a second and you're gutted. You swim for the surface, for a breath, and you're gutted. You don't swim and you drown. It's a choice between being dead right now or a minute from right now.
What my folks will find after work is a big naked fetus, curled in on itself. Floating in the cloudy water of their backyard pool. Tethered to the bottom by a thick rope of veins and twisted guts. The opposite of a kid hanging himself to death while he jacks off. This is the baby they brought home from the hospital 13 years ago. Here's the kid they hoped would snag a football scholarship and get an MBA. Who'd care for them in their old age. Here's all their hopes and dreams. Floating here, naked and dead. All around him, big milky pearls of wasted sperm. Either that or my folks will find me wrapped in a bloody towel, collapsed halfway from the pool to the kitchen telephone, the ragged, torn scrap of my guts still hanging out the leg of my yellowstriped swim trunks.
What even the French won't talk about. That big brother in the Navy, he taught us one other good phrase. A Russian phrase. The way we say, "I need that like I need a hole in my head...," Russian people say, "I need that like I need teeth in my asshole...... Mne eto nado kak zuby v zadnitse.Those stories about how animals caught in a trap will chew off their leg, well, any coyote would tell you a couple bites beats the hell out of being dead. Hell ... even if you're Russian, someday you just might want those teeth. Otherwise, what you have to do is you have to twist around. You hook one elbow behind your knee and pull that leg up into your face. You bite and snap at your own ass. You run out of air and you will chew through anything to get that next breath. It's not something you want to tell a girl on the first date. Not if you expect a kiss good night. If I told you how it tasted, you would never, ever again eat calamari. It's hard to say what my parents were more disgusted by: how I'd got in trouble or how I'd saved myself. After the hospital, my mom said, "You didn't know what you were doing, honey. You were in shock." And she learned how to cook poached eggs. All those people grossed out or feeling sorry for me.... I need that like I need teeth in my asshole.
Nowadays, people always tell me I look too skinny. People at dinner parties get all quiet and pissed off when I don't eat the pot roast they cooked. Pot roast kills me. Baked ham. Anything that hangs around inside my guts for longer than a couple of hours, it comes out still food. Home-cooked lima beans or chunk light tuna fish, I'll stand up and find it still sitting there in the toilet. After you have a radical bowel resectioning, you don't digest meat so great. Most people, you have five feet of large intestine. I'm lucky to have my six inches. So I never got a football scholarship. Never got an MBA. Both my friends, the wax kid and the carrot kid, they grew up, got big, but I've never weighed a pound more than I did that day when I was 13.
Another big problem was my folks paid a lot of good money for that swimming pool. In the end my dad just told the pool guy it was a dog. The family dog fell in and drowned. The dead body got pulled into the pump. Even when the pool guy cracked open the filter casing and fished out a rubbery tube, a watery hank of intestine with a big orange vitamin pill still inside, even then my dad just said, "That dog was fucking nuts." Even from my upstairs bedroom window, you could hear my dad say, "We couldn't trust that dog alone for a second...." Then my sister missed her period. Even after they changed the pool water, after they sold the house and we moved to another state, after my sister's abortion, even then my folks never mentioned it again.
Ever.
That is our invisible carrot.
You. Now you can take a good, deep breath. I still have not.
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| Open to all! |
[01 Apr 2004|12:26am] |
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It's official, I’ve been accepted to Western! I'm going down to Western Thursday night to have an academic advising session with the nice people at the Hallsworth College of Business. They accepted 94 out of my 100 credits which is pretty damn good, the only ones the didn't accept were my 2 word processing classes, I took them to improve my typing speed so maybe I could keep up with Adam on AIM. It did work, I upped it from 56 to nearly 70 wmp so it wasn't a total waste. Though I could have done that on my own and saved a grand. I'm so excited and I think next year is going to be really great. Kalamazoo is fairly civilized, they have Best Buys and Borders and they have I-94, an honest to god interstate!
I might be back Friday or I might stay and look at apartments and such with Eric on Saturday and Sunday. The only problem that I really see is that Western’s summer I session starts the same week as Central’s finals. That could be fun, combined with trying to move at the same time. I’m really excited about that if you can’t tell.
Windy, I’m sorry to ditch you but I have to do what’s best for me. I still want to go up north with you this summer if you don’t hate me forever!
I’m at a good place in my life, a place that I never thought I would be. I’m happy and I’m not afraid of what is to come. The past 3 weeks have been amazing and I’ve come to understand a lot about people and about my friends and now that I don’t feel like my world is not going to end next week I have something to look forward to. Now not everything is the way I want it yet, it may never be but I think I can be happy with what I have and that if I don’t like it I can just leave, do what I have to and go on. I’m not scared anymore.
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| This is why Indiana is the gayest state in the country. |
[29 Mar 2004|11:20pm] |
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While most of Indiana remains on Eastern Standard Time year-round (and is therefore has the same time as Central Daylight Time when daylight saving time is in effect, but is an hour different between October and April, at which point it has the same time as Eastern Standard Time), some portions near borders maintain the same time as the neighboring state, and therefore do shift to daylight saving time. In particular, five northwest Indiana counties (Lake, Porter, La Port, Jasper, and Newton) and five southwest Indiana counties (Gibson, Posey, Vanderburgh, Warrick, and Spencer) are part of the Central Time Zone and shift to Central Daylight Time. Meanwhile, five southeast counties (Harrison, Floyd, Clark, Dearborn, and Ohio) switch to Eastern Daylight Time on their own to stay on the same time as Cincinnati and Louisville.
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| Run everyone, it's the end of the world! |
[08 May 2003|12:00pm] |
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Ok, somethings just not right. I check my grades cause mo left me a message and some of them are up. My highest grade is in PHYSICS which i know the least about, i got a B- which will replace an E so that should help out the GPA. Then I got a C in the other 2 stupid classes...so depending on what I get in eithics (im thinking B, B+ if im lucky) will determine if my GPA goes up or down. I must have done really well on that physics final or everyone else did really horrible just like me.
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| Oh fun! |
[02 Apr 2003|12:52pm] |
You guys have probably seen Capn_Assrape posting comments in my journal all the time. Often full of explicit homosexual action. So for those of you who don't know him he is running for BU student president or something. So to prove that his is exactly like he comes off in my journal I present this.
From the BU student paper.
"When each slate directed questions to the opposing slates, "True 2" VP of Student Affairs candidate Erik Dawson challenged "URANUS" and "Truants" candidates' knowledge of the Student Union's inner-workings.
After "URANUS" responded incorrectly to his question, Ferreira corrected the slate's mistake and was mocked by "URANUS" presidential candidate Adam Eisenhut, who made a masturbatory gesture in response. Several audience members deemed the action inappropriate.
His gesture was later addressed by School of Education sophomore Meredith Classen, who said she felt offended by Eisenhut's response and asked why he felt the gesture was necessary.
"It was something that everyone noticed," she said. "There's a time and a place for everything and when you are in a forum representing a slate and you want to get votes, you have to be responsible, respectful and mature and the gesture is the exact opposite of that."
But Eisenhut apologized and defended his actions.
"I'm sorry you were disgusted," he said. "My behavior reflects my opinion - I don't think I should be acting any differently than a normal student would.""
That's my boy! Nothing like some good ol' masturbatory gestures while taking place in a debate with the future leaders of the school. Now Mr. President, if you could just find some time to play some WC, you remember that game don't you?
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| I obviously have no idea what makes a paper good. |
[18 Feb 2003|05:07pm] |
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I got a 10/10 on my ethics paper about that stupid book The Death of Ivan Ilyich. I don't understand it at all, he said there were mostly B's and C's and a couple of D's and a few A's I automatically assumed because my writing is fairly shitty that I would lay claim to one of the D's. Nope, I got a 10 so I don't know what I did to make it great but I thought it was a crappy paper. I wrote it between classes the day it was due. I actually cut the summary short because I was running out of time for my personal mission statement which was just me admitting that I have no idea whats really important to me except with bigger words and longer.
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| Povar - Destoryer of worlds |
[15 Feb 2003|12:41am] |
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He fell out of his tree today and mad a really horible sound so I pick him up to make sure he is ok and he savagely attacked me. He drew blood finally, and I have flaps of skin hanging off my fingers. He is full grown and strong and a danger to me. I shall now wear protective gloves when the time comes to touch him again.
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[13 Feb 2003|06:02pm] |
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I wrote the worst paper today for business ethics. I'll probably get like a 0 on it. Of course this guy is on crack so he might give me full credit, it remains to be seen. What I really want to do right now is take one of the case studies papers and come up with some completely ridiculous solution to the problem. Like something that is incredibly offensive and will likely get me expelled. I'm thinking using of a solution that will some how use disabled people (like the professor) as speed bumps or something like that. Ok, we all know I won't do that, but that doesn't mean I don't really REALLY want to do it.
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| Why bother to study? |
[05 Feb 2003|08:06pm] |
I have spent so much time the past 4 weeks studying because I knew classes were going to be way harder than ever before. Well out of my 4 exams i had scores ranging from 66 in accounting to a high of 72 in physics...The other 2 some place in between so at least I'm doing constantly shitty. At least my scores were around or above the averages for the class so that makes me feel a bit better. I guess I just have to spend more time fucking with these things. The accounting exam wasn't very fair, he made the adjusting entries very much more difficult than they had to be. He worded them about as confusing as possible and instead of doing a straight forward adjusting entry they were more complicated than they had be. It would have been fine if we would have done anything like that in class or in our homework but no, its another case of a prof giving you one type of work and getting you used to it then doing something on the test that's totally different. If it was just me who had a hard time I would have just blamed me for being stupid but most of us had a hard time with it so we went over them in detail in class. I also got 4 points (50 points where total) for putting down net income instead of income before extraordinary items. I forgot the name! I shouldn't have had over half the points off for one thing being mislabeled. I filtered out the bad info and put only what was supposed to be on the income statement on. I can see why this guy has such a horrible prof rating.
Something that has always bugged the hell out of me is the word chimera. I have always thought it was pronounced like it looks chim-er-ah. It's not though, its pronounced ki-mare-ah, so much for sounding things out....stupid english. It was on the screensavers tonight so I figured I would mention it.
I saw something on www.anandtech.com today that has me all excited. Looks like Western Digital will be releasing serial ATA 10,000 rpm hard drives for desktops with 8mb buffers. I must find money this summer so I can get a motherboard that has serial ATA and has one of those drives to go with it, they should be insanely fast. 10,000 rpm! I love it! I'll take my existing hard drive and turn it into a usb 2 drive or something. They have little kits you can buy for not very much to turn a regular hard drive in to a USB or firewire drive.
I'll be heading home this weekend to pick up my car, my parking permit expires on Saturday and I need to get my jimmy back up here so I can put the permanent sticker on there. They won't give me another temp pass, I'm only allowed 2 and they gave me 2 so I need to get my car this weekend, no way around it.
One more thing, though this was forced on me. Live journal has been acting like a bitch for the past few days, my friends page won't load, or I can't view comments, or I can view them but posts won't work. It's been a very bad system. Right now I can't post this thing for whatever unknown reason. Nothing thats free is worth having. Mo, you're a paying user, are you having an easier time with this beast?
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socksnmypocket's journal