I am sitting here at the law library, where grades from first semester may or may not be released at noon. Today could be the day when the proverbial boys become men, and the proverbial slime molds realize their dreams of getting an interview with Sullivan and Cromwell. Interviewing tip: they love if your slimey slug ooze can be used as lubrication, because it may come in handy with the job of screwing pandas/poor people. CORPORATE SYNERGY.
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| What does it all mean? Don't spend too much time thinking about it. |
11:44
The library is 4 stories tall. The bottom floor is silent, and filled with cubicles. If you want to start a discrete puppy-skin assless chaps business, this is the floor. Why puppies? Because the meat is tender (Ed. note: Duh), and using the whole puppy is just environmentally friendly. The second floor is also quiet, but whispering is permitted. If your voice rises above a whisper, however, you will be shushed with nuclear aplomb. FEEL THE WRATH OF MY EXHALATION. The third floor is where I am, thus it is full of annoyed people and smells vaguely of brown bananas. The fourth floor is open and overlooks the third, thus it is the best place to pantomime riding a horse while wearing the assless chaps.
11:54
T-six minutes. Could this be the time? A group of first-years just rolled out. Maybe they have inside information! Maybe they talked to people in the know! Maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me! And after all! YOU'RE MY WONDER-WAAAHHHLLL.
/Oasis seizure
11:59
3.....2......1......aaaannnndd nothing. The world hasn't seen an anti-climax like that since my one-man erotic cabaret, Gone in 60 Seconds. The world hasn't seen a bad joke like that since the climax of my one-man erotic cabaret. The world hasn't seen rhetorical redundancy like that since this, which is rhetorically redundant.
/continues convulsing to Wonderwall
12:05
Time for lunch! Back with updates in the future. THE.......FUTURE...
/screen goes whispy, time passes, men grow beards, women all have babies and cankles
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| Art imitates life. |
3:15
Email from the Registrar saying grades will be released by 5:30! Wait...why don't you just release them now?
/goes to office
//Registrar is not finished using baby golden retriever blood to paint his Hosni Mubarak mural on a wall covered with our tests because of recent puppy shortage
///DAMN ASS-LESS CHAPS, WHY DO I LOVE YOU SO?
4:00
Unfortunately, I am not currently at the law school so my creeping ability will be cramped. Ummm....I will describe the atmosphere in my apartment:
Sights: Potential grade scenarios scribbled from floor to ceiling in brown...........crayon
Smells: Like Crayon
4:18
I am realistic about my grades. While I am extremely passionate about trying to make the world a better place, the act of law school is not an end in itself, at least to me. First semester was the best time of my life--I met a perfect girl and made amazing friends....I have never been so alive. So grades do not define me, but they are a part of that whole experience. And no matter what happens today, that is an experience I will always cherish.
/pops another pill I got from Columbia before graduating
//DANCE TIME
4:56
Text message says grades are out.....
4:56, 2 seconds
I see my grades! They are literally right in front of me, right now! On a scale of 1 to Thrusting in the Direction of the Nearest Wood-Chipper JUST TO FEEL SOMETHING DIFFERENT, I am safely away from the edges. Duke has an unwritten rule where we don't talk about grades, so I will leave it at that. My extremities live, unchipped, to fight another day.
5:00
Thanks so much for reading. For my law school friends, you guys (almost universally) really are amazing. And regardless of grades, that is what really matters.


Are all chaps ass-less? This is a serious question that has occupied many long runs in the past. If they're not, are they just pants?
ReplyDeleteMind. BLOWN.
ReplyDeletePants. SCISSORED.
Jeans. CHAPPED.
what an anticlimax!!! give us some grades already
ReplyDeleteDylan, you always get an A+ in my book. Which is only slightly better than a B--. Or worse, depending on your feelings on my erotic cabaret.
ReplyDelete