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You're welcome. I know you enjoyed that. It is in the spirit of Austrie's last epic post that I now bring to you one of my many moments of glory. The week was finals. The day was Tuesday. I hadn't slept more than four hours, and stress levels were approaching critical condition in light of my hard drive completely crashing the night before, with projects due to in two days. (try to ignore the dramatic panic music that is now playing through your head). I had worn a dress that day because of a presentation I had given, and I rushed home to change clothes and return to the Clarke for a long night of drafting. The chosen uniform was yoga pants, an oversized mens-ware shirt, and my week-long, unwashed mane in a turban (Go ahead, you can applause such an accomplishment). As I walked into the Clarke, looking like some white-trash version of Chiquita Banana, who do you think I ran directly into? No, not my best friend who could sympathize with my pathetic outfit. Nope. I ran dead-on into Royce, the projector tech for the third floor of the Clarke who got my number at the beginning of the semester with the promise of dinner, never to be heard from again. Fan-flipping-tastic. And as I tried to act like I am too cool to care that someone sees me in a hair turban, inside I was thinking,"It would be an act of kindness if someone would snipe me right now."
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