Accidents Happen.

5 Feb
Hello kids. Allow me to introduce myself: I’m white.

For the past 10 days, I have had 7 opportunities to attend a play called “14” for Art of Theater. Being the professional procrastinator that I am, I didn’t attempt to get a ticket for “14” until Saturday. When I arrived at the Hancher Box Office to get my ticket at precisely 3:07 p.m., I discovered that the box office had closed exactly 7 minutes prior to my arrival. I left empty-handed.

The next morning, I called Hancher to see what time the final showing would be performed. The show was completely sold out. That was the last day I could have seen it, and I failed (expectedly). For the following class, we had a 3 page response journal due on the performance, and we were to come (and I quote) “ready for a healthy and lively discussion about the show.” I was f’ed.

SO, I raped the worldwide web in hopes of finding some hearty reviews about the play. Luckily, I found some pretty good articles about it which enabled me to bullshit a good three pages in time for class. When I arrived at Theater this afternoon, I handed in my journal with everyone else, and then the discussion began.

About four or five minutes into our class discussion, I got the distinct impression that the play “14” was not the same play that I had read about the night before. Just seconds after that epiphone, I realized that it was indeed an entirely different production from the play I had read up on, titled “The Number 14.”

Shit.

Halfway through our session, I just raised my hand to announced to the entire class and my professor that I had not actually seen the play, and therefore could not participate: “I think this would be a good time for me to confess that I did not actually see the play,” I admitted. I did not get slapped.

End.

While we’re chatting about school, I’d like to toss out there that my Core Concepts class for Communication Studies is bullshit. I have no idea what the class is supposed to be for, and I really don’t think my professor knows what she’s talking about. I get the general feeling that the whole course is intended to teach us the definition of the term “communication.” –I don’t need to sit through an entire semester to learn the definition of one word. Just email it to me or something.

Anyway, I was informed by another eye-witness of two other occurrences that went down on Saturday night. Apparently on our way to the second party, I bolted into a house (a completely random, WRONG house) and asked the people sitting in the living room if it was a kegger. Haha. Ohh.

And, on our way back home that night, Cole and I had been ahead of the group. As Tim turned the corner to Cole’s apartment, he found Cole and I wiped out, lying down on the pavement.

Fall #7.

“@$#%#FUCKING@#$%@&#FUCK&#%@$DUMBSHIT!!!!”

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