Incompetence Rears His Ugly Head

I accidentally cashed myself Friday night. I just blinged -- blung? -- a little too hard, and woke up Saturday (for work of all things) sad sad sad with the state of affairs. We're talking hacking cough, chills, aches, dizziness, inability to form cohesive thoughts. The not eating for days may have contributed, but hey, whatev. Luckily, I caught a nap on the couch in the lobby like a hobo, and was ready to give my presentation at 1:00. It was odd. I think most of the people just assumed I was some overworked, under rested Med Student, collapsed under the weight of O-Chem and unreal expectations. Freshly enlivened by my nap, I was able to regale the masses with everything they need to know about the Community Service Fund and the Community Service Finance Committe. All with the kind of hangover that just makes you feel stooped.

The night before, when we were all hanging out with Sydney, everyone remembered that I'm secretely a Giant Bureaucrate. Oh the horror! The travesty!! This giant hippie secretly climbs the ladder of bureaucratic bullshit on a regular basis? It was so shocking that Katherine had to go ride her bike. I forget sometimes too. Keep in mind: I'm a bureaucrate for social justice.

Insert three days of sleeping here.

I had this Heidegger midterm that was due Tuesday, right? And I realized very early on that I wasn't going to get in done in time. I'm better now, but only recently. It's a good thing I bought 4,304 doses of NyQuil at Costco because I've been downright loopy on the stuff for days now. So, like the good student I am (Oh shut up, you. Quit your snickering.) I decided to seek an extension as opposed to writing a bunch of drug ridden dribble that would make Heidegger cry. An extension of glory, if you will.

What do you do when you want an extension? You email the T.A., he says yea or nay, and everyone goes about their business. Right? In perfect form, I email home dude on Saturday afternoon, once my condition became startling clear -- that would be right after I feel over trying to get off the couch. His name is Clark Remington. I couldn't make that up, folks.

I don't hear from him.
I don't hear from him.

I get an email MONDAY AFTERNOON saying that my TA is an incompetent idiot and I'm going to have to ask the Prof. This paper is due TUESDAY at 1:30. I ask you, as a T.A., what do you do? What is the point? You hold office hours, lead discussion secition, AND GIVE EXTENSIONS. You don't know if I can have an extension? What is it exactly you do? WHAT GOOD ARE YOU TO ME? Don't get me started on the need for timeliness.

I emerge from my NyQuil fog Tuesday morning long enough to check my email and crawl in bed with Alii.
Still no email. No email. No email.

Then, under the influence, I emailed the Prof, telling him what's been happening. And telling him that he'll have his paper on Thursday. So, yea, I, uh, kinda, uh, gave myself an extension. I hope it worked.

Still no word from either.
Still no paper either.

BUT I'M NOT DOPED UP ON NYQUIL!! I CAN WALK ACROSS THE ROOM WITHOUT FALLING OVER!! HACKING COUGH IS GONE! That's got to count for something. Heidegger paper domination: here I come.

I'm only going to make it to 50% of my classes this week.
Hey, it's up from 33% last week.