Well, the superbowl has just ended, I have a Greek quiz and a test in political science tomorrow, but out of the kindness of my heart I’m going to blog rather than study. I’ve just been so busy lately with the play rehearsals, the homework, the netflixing. I know I know, it’s so selfish; from the depths of my intestines, I apologize. If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t been paying that much attention to the squirrels either. I knew I wasn’t going to get to watch the majority of the superbowl because I had rehearsal from 7 to 10, but Professor Abbott was kind enough to stream the game on his laptop so that in between scenes we would be able to watch the show. That was very kind of him, but he should’ve known that Beyonce’s halftime performance was going to hinder the progression of the play. I mean how was I supposed to know my scene was coming up when it’s just non stop booty popping and strobe lights? It was so mesmerizing, that even the guy in charge of keeping the lights on forgot what he was doing. I don’t think we need torture to collect intelligence, I think terrorists would tell us the truth if we promised them they could watch Beyonce dance for a minute every time they answered a question. I told this to the cast at the end of rehearsal and i’ll tell it to you all, “America is going black and its not going back folks: the president, the halftime performance, the subsequent blackout in the superdome…” Connect the dots people.
In other news, it was a bit of an exciting week here on campus. Tuesday’s budget meeting in the student senate was an excruciating two and a half hour long festival of finance. I was a bit worried at one point; the president of the boxing club was making a fair complaint about the money allocated to him. While he remained civil the entire time, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “What am I gonna do if he gets outta hand? He’s got a hundred pounds on me, and is the president of the BOXING club.” After an intense brainstorm, I decided that no matter who gets out of line in my courtroom, they’re all going to receive the same groin kick. After all, I’m not Jason Bourne, my job is to protect President Wentzel at all costs, and I might as well put my size fourteen feet to good use. This was on Tuesday, and when the meeting started, it was around fifty degrees out, but by the time we left, snow was falling and the snot running from nose was beginning to freeze. Mother Nature is a fickle beast. A bringer of mayhem and confusion. If it weren’t for my iPhone’s daily weather report, i would leave my room everyday in a mink tank-top, an umbrella hat, pajama pants, and a sign hanging from my neck that reads I give up.
I hope this week goes well for everyone,