So I went to bed at midnight last night because I was sick of my presentation and everyone and myself, on the understanding that I get up at 5 and finish it. So I wake up in a cold sweat at 5 am all like "AUGH PRESENTATION ACK," and I feel really ill about it--like, I was pretty sure I just felt queasy about class, but who knows? Maybe I'm coming down with Sister Girl's Death Flu. Maybe random acts of emesis (tm fanofall) loom large in my future, I don't know! I don't know! So I presentationate until 8 am, when I jump in the shower, because my hair is curly and needs at least two hours to really air-dry before I break out the hair dryer, or all the curl goes thin and frizzy. So I'm in the shower and I swear, I have the biggest most awful rat's-nest tangle in the history of ever. But detanglenating only takes twenty minutes, so I bust downstairs for a quick breakfast of waffles and, after ascertaining that Luis Guzmán is not lurking anywhere near, I open the freezer door and BAM this carton of homemade ninja spaghetti sauce leaps out and tries to kill me ("I KEEL YOU!") with, like, its frozen heft ("BANZAI!"). So I do what anyone would do when faced with a sauce assassin--shriek and flail--and boxes of eggrolls and tubs of ice cream go flying and by the time I find the waffles, the two pomeranians are playing tug-of-war with the box under the kitchen table ("Rrrrr!" "Rrrrr!"). So finally clean up the wreckage and toast myself some damn waffles and go back upstairs and struggle with the conclusion. And then... I go downstairs to print at 9:45.
I think you all know where this is going.
That printer hates. me. But my parents fixed it and loaded it and beat it into submission and said, "Whenever you're ready, it's good to go." I go down with a diskette forty-five minutes before I have to leave. I am going to print two copies of my paper presentation, one to give to the professor and one to read from, and 12 copies of a handy handout on Persephone and Pomona, because I don't have to have a handout but everyone else has, and I think it would be particularly useful to make sure we go over the two main mythological figures in my Paradise Lost paper because--well, you know how part of the professional tone of an academic paper is the assumption that you don't have to explain every little thing? Like, the way you don't do plot synopsis because you're assuming that if you, some random academic, are reading an academic paper on Paradise Lost, you've read the damn epic? Yes, well. I didn't want to hit the part in the paper where I assume you're fairly acquainted with the gist of the Persephone/Hades/Demeter myth, and if you aren't, you can open a damn dictionary at that point, which you can't do if you're just sitting in a classroom listening (OH MY GOD I'M RAMBLING SEND HELP). So, wahey! Handout. Yeah. I got downstairs and pulled up "My Computer" on my parents' PC, you know, to get to the A drive and all, and the computer's all like, "My Who?" No, seriously, dude, this isn't funny. "My What?" NO, DUDE, NO. And you know how when the computer is trying to pull up the icons a little flashlight waves back and forth? Yeah. It did that for ten minutes straight. I am freaking out for real. I reboot the computer a couple of times and switch users and log out and do all kinds of technological hokey-pokey and the printer's just sitting there like a happy dog, like, "Hi! I'm ready! Let's go! Where's your stuff!" So finally, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, I call Mom at 10 am and ask her to print me the two copies of the paper, since she was going to drop by the house anyway, and she comes through for me. But I felt so bad about it that I didn't ask her to do the 12 handouts.
AND THEN I CANNOT FIND MY SHOES. OH MY GOD WILL THIS NEVER END. Finally I turn around and my shoes are all under the desk like HEE HEE. Not funny, dudes.
So I get to class and I let Boyce go first--it's me, Boyce, and Laurel (the Laurel whose children's book I need to critique for her already omg). He sounds a little nervous reading and I'm all jarred and jittery from, you know, several attempts on my life and sanity and I'm thinking to myself, Look, you have lived through worse than this. You have given presentations like this IN SPANISH. You have run open-mike nights at the college coffee house. Everyone out there is even more nervous about this than you are. And the ones who aren't nervous because they aren't presenting are just bored. They totally don't care. They're not going to notice if you stammer. Just get up there and rock this bitch. You know you can.
I did not get up there and rock that bitch. I tripped over my words a lot and stammered and that annoys the living piss out of me because I am totally not like that when I'm just talking in class discussion. And the thing had to be twelve minutes and I knew I was never going to make that on the paper alone, so I got up there--and this is a small, friendly class, so I wasn't so much worried about that--and said, "I, uh, okay. I'm kind of sad today because my handouts died in a fiery paper jam and, so, I don't have any. But we really need to go over the information that was on them because I'm going to touch on about four mythological figures in the paper and I want to make sure you're with me when I get there." And Clifton, My Gay Boyfriend, starts laughing in the back of the room when I get to "fiery paper jam." Now, I know I'm not the only person who does this, but--you know how when you tell a story you kind of tell what you were thinking or what you would have liked to have said? Like, "And then I was like, Bitch, are you for real?," when what you really said was, "Sure, you can cut in front of me in line (Please don't cut me I want to live)"? Yeah. See, no. I really said this. And you'll notice I didn't tell the absolute truth, but that's because I would have blathered on like I did three paragraphs ago, and that just makes you look like a loser with a lot of excuses. You have to get your quip on and get out of there as quick as possible. So the Invisible Handout seemed to go over well, and I think I passed twelve minutes on the strength of that. And when we had open Q&A at the end, the professor immediately wanted to talk about my presentation, and, like, not in a predatory "weak gazelle in the herd" kind of way, and I am pretty sure that I actually rocked that bitch because I'm fine if we're just talking, so I think it went all right.
Yay, Amazing Race tonight!
I'm not too impressed with the season 6 competitors, but okay. I wasn't impressed with the beginning of season 5, and look how that turned out. Fortunately Veronica Mars does not come on tonight, but the part of my heart that I reserve for television is broken that VM and TAR are running against each other. I'm probably going to end up taping VM so I can watch it more thoroughly--actually, Mom has shown some interest in TiVo (YUSS!), but we'll see about that. The upside of this is that I will continue to
Also, now that I am reviving the "MY OX IS BROKEN" icon, I totally need to think of something to do for a Veronica icon.
ETA: Awwww, hell. My icons are expired. Be right back.