I Need a Nap, Badly

So... this latest post finds me facing the cruel irony that is the world we live in, otherwise known as reality. I regret to inform you all, my faithful readers, that Hazelnut-Mocha is in fact not my bitch lover, but it rather seems my perception of our relationship has been inverted. To make a long story short, my last post was at approximately 6:47 AM, it is now 6:28 PM and although I did get my paper done, I had planned on napping soundly by 2:45 PM, however, that plan has not come to fruition. I realized early on in the AM that the English department's annual saturnalia, which I had already agreed to attend, was to be held at 3:00 PM.

Of course, not being one to break plans, I attended. This was an interesting event as it turns out, there are many professors in the department I have yet to receive instruction from. I found myself being watched very closely. I was worried some of the faculty were questioning my authenticity as an English major, so I did what felt natural and confronted the head of the department:

Me: "Ma'am you needn't worry; I am in fact proficient in this subject matter as I've been under your department's tutelage for some 2 1/2 years now, damn fine job they're doing too if you don't mind my saying so. I'm sorry we haven't made acquaintances yet, my name is Ed, I assure you I'm not here merely for the free pizza and cucumber sandwiches which by the way are quite delicious. As for these other scallywags, I don't trust them, not a single one."
(awkward silence)
The Head: "Well Ed, it's really a pleasure to meet you, your name sounds familiar. I'm glad you've been enjoying your education so much. I'm Karla. I really appreciate that you like the cucumber sandwiches; I made them myself. As for the scallywags you speak of, I wouldn't worry about them, just don't eat the olive leave wraps."

The rest of the affair went fairly well. I successfully avoided the olive leave wraps and managed to escape with my gastric health intact. Some of my professors arrived and I engaged them in some pleasant conversations. My Irish fiction professor was particularly insightful, "It's a damn shame they lowered the drinking age; a subtle social lubricant is exactly what this kind of affair needs. When I was an undergrad the professor's used to each bring a jug of wine on the last day of classes. If you had five classes or so that day you would not be walking home. I think someone said missing out on this is the price we pay to live in a safe country." I told him that I agreed with all but the last part, and informed him that I was actually 22 and would be happy to join him at the bar for multiple rounds of Guinness. He politely declined, citing an obligation to remain impartial because my thesis is due on Thursday. I told him that I understood his quandary and excused myself to pursue other networking opportunities.

This was when I met perhaps the quirkiest professor I never knew existed at SUNY Cortland. Along with a former department chair who reminded me of Homer Simpson's father, she told us the story of a protest in the 60's in which students overtook the administration building. They said that the students managed to get the last week of school canceled. Intrigued by this idea, I requested they join me in a similar movement. They declined, we agreed that our agendas were conflicting.

The elder statesman excused himself leaving me alone with Professor Quirky. My friend Jess came to help me out because it takes three to tango. The good professor noted that there was some sort of chemistry between Jess and I. Seeing an opportunity, I faked a blush and pretended to feel awkward. We made a bit more small talk and eventually decided to head back to our respective apartments.

I continued to hit on Jess for the remainder of the ride home, suggesting that perhaps we should engage in casual sex to ease some of the tension finals week creates. Surprisingly, she was able to resist my charm. I may have went a bit too far when I mentioned that she'd have to blow me first because otherwise I'd have trouble coming and could likely kill her from the intensity of too many orgasms. I mentioned two such instances in the past. I fibbed. A little.

I got home not too long ago and realized that somehow, I was still not tired. In fact, I'm still not tired. I've been perusing fantasy basketball and writing this post for a few hours and am now acknowledging that Hazelnut-Mocha runs my life. I'm helpless against her cunning power to create a state of artificial consciousness.

Peace out to my niggas pookie-bear and ray-ray...