Harold and Kumar got nuthin'

A marathon weekend on S.F. Muni

Tonight was my first "real" class, as in a syllabus wasn't handed out and we didn't get to leave early. That meant I had to "participate". I don't like to "participate". I'm usually too busy listening or writing, and if I do come up with some intelligent remark on the fly (if you've seen me drive, it's the same type of delay) it's because the planets aren't in the right order. I'm really going to work hard this year and get those grades up, however, so I have to say something. Luckily I remembered what the Medieval Optimum was when no one else did and was able to fit in a rambling remark about the author's historiography before the class ended. I don't know how some people do it. The professor compared class participation to a potluck dinner: it doesn't matter what you bring to the table, but it's rude if you bring nothing at all. Somehow I'm always the weird aunt that adds nasty bits of pineapple in her 4th of July Jell-O.