As many of you may or may not quite remember, yesterday was St. Patty’s day, where everyone comes together to let their Irish out for just one day.
My day started, well, the day before. That’s because I had a history paper to write. No, it wasn’t due on St. Patty’s day…it was actually due the Friday a week before. Now under normal circumstances I would procrastinate until the night before, or if I’m feeling daring, the morning that it’s due, then write it all in one sitting and just barely finish it in time. Except I’m no longer in engineering and so regular deadlines don’t apply.
You see, I’ve determined that in arts there is a deadline, and a real deadline. The deadline comes in the form of a date and time, normally when there is a regularly scheduled lecture. The real deadline is somewhat abstract and varies upon course and person. It’s a matter of a cost-benefit analysis you see, since in arts there’s this beautiful thing called late marks. This mythical creation does not exist in the faculty of engineering nor math. You either hand things in on time or you don’t hand it in at all. After determining the rate of daily mark deduction, you simply compare with your maximum mark loss threshold and then you have the real deadline.
I found out last week that my history (of popular culture) course had a penalty of 2% every working day. That’s right, weekends didn’t even count! Given that kind of rate, I probably would have gone 3 whole weeks before handing in my paper. Alas, the prof also stated that she wouldn’t accept papers that were more than a week late. Not quite what I wanted but hey, losing only 10% for being a week late isn’t something I’ll complain about.
So apparently it takes almost 7 days to procrastinate and about 4 hours to write a history paper. This is why I didn’t start writing my paper until about 3 am, the morning of St. Patty’s day. Throw in a few hours worth of nodding off while trying to write it and I finally finished around 10 am.
I went to campus around noon and after an hour of wandering around I finally went to line up to get into Bomber. Given that Bomber is just ridiculous on St. Patty’s day, it took me about 2 hours to get in…in the early afternoon. Bomber was just wild and I had a blast. I managed to spend a total of 20 bucks for the whole day. That’s right, you heard me. 20 bucks for all St. Patty’s day. I even ate a burger. Being physically asian, not having slept for over 30 hours and not having eaten all day combined to give me extreme alochol amplification powers.
I was so tired that I left the bar around 8:30 pm. I got home about 15 minutes later. I remember walking into my house and hearing my roommate Tony yell “hello? who’s home?” from upstairs. Being drunk, I thought to myself how hilarious it would be to not answer. So I didn’t. I then realized how funny it would be to go hide. I then heard Tony’s footsteps rush down the stairs just as I ran into the living room to hide behind the wall. And then as he slowly crept into the living room I jumped out to scare the shit out of him. Or at least that’s how I remember it and I remember finding it so damn funny. But then I also remember 30 seconds lying down on the couch and passing out.
You know those nights after you come home from the bar at like 2 am and pass out on the couch and then by the time you wake up it’s like 5-6 am? Yeah that sucks. But yesterday – oh yes – I woke up from being passed out on the couch, still wearing my toque and my jacket, and I looked at the clock. It was still 11 pm! It was the greatest feeling ever. Not only had I passed out on the couch but I was about to go to sleep hours before my usual bedtime!
Fin.
