Wednesday, March 11, 2009
All quiet on the western frot
Contrary to the title, this week has been anything but quiet, much less anything to do with frotting in a westerly direction....
Already loaded with assignments, one cant help but liken it to the many nights that imala, schmierer, alex james and I found ourselves up in the wee hours of the morning completing pracs on esters (or alkyl-alkanoates according to IUPAC). Just when i thought i'd start printing 'i survived the Clayden era' shirts, ol' uni comes and destroys the factory (luckily, in india they hav many, and it only costs 4 dollars....)
This week started well - we got to cut up a toad... a living toad that flinched and flayed as we fiddled with the fading nerve fixtures. I thought sam and i did a decent job dissecting it - we even got approval from the overly enthusiastic tutor who would hav congratulated us even if we mutilated it - and surely enuf, the girls in front of us did just that and got a big hi 5 thus proving that males are better surgeons and that encouragement from dave the tutor was about a big an achievement as winning GPS sailing...
Still if theres one thing im learning at uni, its that you don't get to see ur old friends as much as you'd like. I didnt even get to giv hippy birthday hugs, which is major cos now that he's 18 and can legally buy alcohol, his days are numbered.
All the games and inside jokes we had in school need to be reinvented... who's gonna play calculator cricket with me? who's gonna liken wide-load women to mack trucks? And who's gonna laugh at alex when he leaves his tie tucked into his shirt?
A little sad, no?
Oh and as usual, the bullet with oleson's name on it speeds ever closer... I can here it as it whispers 'aim for the head, aim for the head'