Jesse Mullan

Yes, it is plenty hot THANK YOU

Written on Thursday, the 23^rd of June, 2005 at 1:35 am and was filed under: Wallowing, school

Today’s three hour “discussion” section of Computer Science 4011 (Formal Languages and Automata Theory) was held in a brick oven. By the end of class I was getting very hungry, what with all the employees reaching into the classroom with those pizza peels to place uncooked pizzas on our desks. Eight minutes later, pure deliciousness would be snatched away by those same giant paddles. Or maybe I just passed out and dreamed about that pizza.

Here’s some math for you:
Formal Languages + Automata Theory + Ninety Five Degree Heat = Sleep

Install some FUCKING air conditioning, University of Minnesota. I mean it. What the fuck is that giant piece of angular shit on campus? Defenders love to say “it’s nice inside,” but fuck that. I am gonna burn that shit down so the U can use the insurance money to turn another ancient building into a five floor mall like Coffman. Coffman at least has air conditioning. I’d take a class there and even stay awake. If alumni want to have a nice place to visit when they come to campus, why not visit a classroom building? I wonder if the bums know that the alumni center is nice - they seem to prefer walking around Coffman with wet asses and giant colossal beards.

That reminds me of a story: the other day I spilled half of my Nalgene bottle into the passenger seat of my car. It was no big deal because I only use the driver seat for my business (if you know what I’m saying), except that the next day, Lisa wanted to borrow my car, so she offered to drive me to work. About thirty seconds into the ride, I realized that my ass was getting moist, and for once it was not a good thing. There was nothing to do but go to work with a wet ass. I hope that anyone else who plays “spot the homeless guy” at Coffman won themselves some points off of my dampened jeans.

When I got home today, I changed clothes because the seatbelt had left a foul strip of sweat across my chest from my ten minute drive. Stan and I went to Target, where I stumbled through the aisles in a heat-induced stupor. Target may have been frosty, but direct sunlight had raised my body temperature to fever levels, so I was hot, sweaty, and somehow clammy. Returning home to the central air was like rejoining the human race after having my frontal lobe inserted into the anal cavity of a racehorse. I’m not sure how that analogy works, but you will have to create your own mental imagery. Please don’t share, I’ve got my own mental image of that, and I do not want to know which one of us is a fouler example of a human being. It’s probably me, but I don’t want confirmation of that.

This was all going to board a train and ride it to some thought, but all I can wrap my head around is the constant ache of hot weather.