Planes, trains, & emergency vehicles

I am heading off to Ottawa again. This comes as a welcome respite from the horrors I have just experienced in : exam period. I only had two final exams this semester, but I will say that the SFU abbreviation of BICH for biochemistry is appropriate. The psychology exam went uneventfully (for me anyway), and I managed to do well even with a pretty steep curve to climb. Biochemistry was difficult, but since I had studied for a week straight, it went ok as well. Nobody had a panic attack during this one either, which was not the case in the psychology exam. I guess some people thought that it was hard.

I don’t mind flying, but I hope that this trip to Ottawa does not include emergency vehicles. Last time, on the way to a plane change in Calgary, something went wrong with the plane. We had to circle Calgary for about an hour, and when we finally did land, all the emergency vehicles came screaming out to meet us. It not as bad as it sounds, but it was worsened by the fact that the guy in front of me was less than calm, and the old lady next to me kept pissing herself. This did not make for an enjoyable emergency situation. All I have to say to the flight attendant who acted inappropriately stressed during the whole thing is : maybe this isn’t the job for you. Perhaps you should try something less stressful like crocheting or something.

I was watching an episode of the Simpsons today and Bart said something about grandpa getting his meat cut up for him. Homer says : “Why should he have it so good! I’m working my ass off here!………uh GREAT steak honey!

I have lived through this one, and I don’t recommend the particular repercussions that came my way. It is closely related to flinging open a closet and saying : you call this “nothing to wear”? There are many different ways to wind up in trouble with a woman, and I have stumbled across many of the best. All seemed obvious upon later inspection, yet were all too easy to miss before I fell into them.

I have been doing a lot of web page programming lately. I wondered to myself last night why we weren’t taught a useful language in grade 12, like C++ or HTML or something. Then it occurred to me that, in 1993 when I graduated from high school, that there were approximately 3 web pages in North America. Now I have three web pages. I feel old. Just wait until I start running into people younger than myself who can’t remember time before the internet. It will be then that I will start saying things like “When I was your age….” and it will then be a slippery slope down towards greying hair and multicolored tube socks from there.

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