“Yeah, right. Three hours my ASS. Did you factor ‘fucking around’ into that time, Stacie?!”
–Allie Viall
On the amount of time allotted to completing the final. After a several-minute monologue in an old-woman-New-York accent bemoaning the unnecessary bells and whistles of technology (e.g., “Why do you need the internet in your phone? It’s a telephone, not a computer in your bag.”)
EDIT: 6:26 p.m. She adds, “Oh god, how am I ever going to work now? I’m so funny!”
EDIT: 6:44 p.m. “What do they think they is, flan-NERS or something?”
EDIT: 6:56 p.m. “Then I’m gonna spit on his shoes.” (on Colson Whitehead). “Like when the old Italian women are like ‘pft pft pft (spitting noises). I curse you!’”
EDIT: 8:05 p.m. An endless stream of Eddie-Murphy-copped fart-jokes on this end of campus. No relief in sight.
EDIT: 8:08 p.m. Grace enters the work room. ”Mrs. Dalla-who?” she asks.
EDIT: 8:55 p.m. “I woulda made a bitchin’ drug dealer, though,” says Allie.
EDIT: 10:07 p.m. Allie is making a spanking motion in the air to the tune of Jay-Z’s “Dirt Off Your Shoulder.”
EDIT: 10:22 p.m. Listening to the Notorious B.I.G. “You know,” Allie says, “I bet if Biggie was here, he’d do our homework for us.”
EDIT: 10:54 p.m. Allie spit water on the floor twice for no reason, we’re singing along to “Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me” from Rocky Horror Picture Show.
EDIT: 10:59 p.m. Grace comes into the room and asks for some of our Red Bamboo leftovers. We refuse until she’s started her final.
EDIT: 11:24 p.m. Allie and I basically relent, Grace begins eating.
EDIT: 11:34 p.m. A discussion of the definition of the word “expunge” takes place. Grace offers the visual image of a SPONGE wiping something away.
EDIT: 11:39 p.m. Allie and I have a heated round of “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe” to see who has to go refill the shared glass of water. She loses. I take the extra moment I have gained by this victory to update my blog about it.
EDIT: 11:43 p.m. Girl still ain’t back with the water. I’m parched.
EDIT: 12:00 a.m. Happy Birthday to me! Geez this final is long: I was eighteen when I started it!
EDIT: 12:18 a.m. Allie and I, two feet away from each other, leave facebook comments for each other about my birthday.
EDIT: 12:35 a.m. Allie is standing on her chair dancing while she, Lyndel and I sing “Man, I Feel Like A Woman” by Shania Twain. We are both about halfway done these questions.
EDIT: 12:58 a.m. Singing along to “Sympathy for the Devil” and playing accidentally footsie under the table because our muscles are beyond our control at this point.
EDIT: 1:55 a.m. We’re both still truckin’, there’s just very little in which to find humor by now. Estimated Sleep Time: four o’clock a.m.
EDIT: 2:12 a.m. Singing along to Kiss. Allie says: “That’s what we’re doing! We’re rocking and rolling with Cassarino all night!”
EDIT: 2:28 a.m. Either all the gangsta rap mixed with writing theory is getting to me, or I’m having ‘Nam flashbacks.
EDIT: 2:37 a.m. After a few minutes’ discourse, Allie and I come to the understanding that her admiration of Motley Crue is in no way ironic. This is an uncomfortable realization for me.
EDIT: 2:43 a.m. A brief pause here to revitalize ourselves by doing the Time Warp with full choreography and a spoon microphone.
EDIT: 2:56 a.m. We tried for so long to listen to Ambient Work-Conducive Music that anything melodic is making us angry and unfocused.
EDIT: 3:21 a.m. “Fuck that,” I say, “I don’t want to do Marco Polo.” Allie protests, “But…but, he has his own game.”
EDIT: 3:30 a.m. EZ PAPER. PAPER LIVE FROM WEBCAM. VERY NICE CUTE PAPER CUM SEE MY VERY NICE PAPER. FREE PAPER SHOW FOR FREE FOR YOU. XOXO, CANDI.
EDIT: 3:37 a.m. Communications have been reduced to a series of Molly Shannon quotations and Boston lyrics.
EDIT: 3:49 a.m. Clarity is reaching us after hours of anti-lucidity. ”Maybe,” I suggest, “the water in your room won’t get cold for the same reason it’s hotter in there than everywhere else, because you guys are above the boiler room.” Suddenly, it All Makes Sense. We should take on the major political conflicts of the world right now.
EDIT: 4:19 a.m. “I don’t know if that fulfilled the requirements,” Allie says, “But that was cathartic.” We are both done and we are quiet for the first time all night. We are only editing in short bursts now, soon to close our computers, soon to rest. Soon to be healthy, wealthy, and wise.
