Speaking of that, Project Improv themselves showed up for the second half of the aforementioned show, to watch the long-form part. Upon seeing me there, they proceeded to literally bend me over a table and soundly roger me in twos and threes. Now, three things:
- In case you don’t hail from the world of theater, be advised that being forcibly humped on your bottom in public is just a casual gesture of affection, the way, say, plumbers would smack hands and hug after a long time away.
- I was a little surprised by said show of affection, actually. I wasn’t sure most of PI knew who I was. I’m kind of being drawn into this whole Louisville improv / Bellarmine scene now, and being surprised at how many connections there are between people I know for completely different reasons. It’s… kind of like Centre, actually. But I like it.
- Back to the subject of having painful things occur where I can’t see them: apparently I just don’t have any finals at all, assuming I get something decent on the Object-Oriented Design test I took today. In that class, an A average right now means you don’t have to take the final, and in my other two classes, Dr. Graham decided to have both final exams this Thursday instead of during the finals period. I guess he just disagrees with the notion of mercy and justice in general, I don’t know, it makes me really unhappy and frustrated to think about it. I’d end up with much better grades in Algorithms and AI if I had any time to prepare–I can’t even spend tomorrow cramming, because I have to work.
So this post started off happy and ended up sad. In further Schrodinger Point form, I’ve noticed that I’m rapidly approaching that magical, effervescent day when I never have to mention anybody without a hyperlink behind his or her name. Unmagically, that day will never come, because some people REFUSE TO GET BLOGS. MARIA. Oh, I meant “cough.”
And just because I can’t stop myself from cramming in one more segue, speaking of Schrodinger Point, I really have to start running again. I’m almost well again, and I know I write better posts than this one when I’ve exercised, and if I don’t break them out again soon, my official Captain Spacedork tights are going to rust.