Semester's Resolutions

January 28, 1999

By Morgan Carlson

I have decided to make this last semester count. I figure that even though I have completely sleepwalked my way through most of my college years, I can pull it all together for a fantastic finish. This will send a strong message to my potential future employers, that message being: "I only do work in the eleventh hour when it's already way too late." That may not seem like much of a statement, but it beats my current credo, which is: "I can waste the best four years of my life and not give a rat's ass."

So I have hereby laid out some guidelines and conduct codes to keep me on track.

- I shall rip off Chris Jericho by habitually calling myself the 'Ayatollah of Rock 'N Rollah.' Whatever that means.

- I will improve my relations with professors by putting better feedback in those response forms. This will be a big step up from my previous forms, which all said, simply: 'u suk.'

- I will improve my pre-test studying habits. I have given up on my current test preparation tactic, which is when I check E-mail while sitting next to the book I'm supposed to be reading.

"I can't believe I got a 43 on that quiz. I sat next to that book all night!"

- I shall boost my self-confidence by dating international supermodels with one name, like Amalda or Frud. (Wouldn't it be funny if there really was a model named Frud? Would you buy a dress worn by some girl named Frud? Would you buy one of those modelling dresses anyway, which is two inches of shiny fabric that costs $3,000? Who wears any of that crap? How is that a billion dollar industry? Do people actually say: "yeah, I'm a 6'1", 65 pound woman who wants to wear a tacky, transparent shirt that puts my pitiful, malnourished chest on display for all to see?" What the fuck?)

- I will celebrate the success of my friends. After all, as the ancient Chinese proverb says, "celebrating a friend's good fortune improves your own." Although it's kind of greedy to be happy for a pal when you're just doing it as a cheap ploy to further your own good luck. Fucking Chinese.... bunch of greedy yellow gnomes, when you get right down to it. We should have shipped them all back home once they finished building our railroads.

- In class, I will actually do something with the notebook I always place on my desk. You know, like maybe taking out some sort of marking implement, possibly lead or ink-based, and create a series of notations and symbols that will pertain to the words coming out of the professor's mouth. This way, I might gain something from class, other than a layer of dust and an appreciation of how professors can bend the laws of time and space.

Time and space, you ask? Let me explain. Have you ever noticed how the first fifteen minutes of a class fly by? And how the next forty minutes are at regular speed? And then the last half hour is an endless nightmare? Imagine what professors could do with these time-bending powers! They could battle crime like no other! (Assuming these crimes were time-related. And also assuming we could get the criminals into a classroom.)

- I should also get my used underwear business off the ground. (See Issue #137: Panty Raiders.) I was thinking of expanding into a new line called Bitter Briefs, where older, mistreated women give me their panties to sell, with phrases like "Burn in Hell, Pig!" and "Cram That Y Chromosome Up Your Ass" written on them in Magic Marker. Guys would want these, since everyone gets a weird thrill for being punished about their past misdeeds. You know, like when you get caught lying, and you suddenly start buzzing on the inside and smiling like a retard.
I found a way to make money on male hormones, AND their guiltiness for said hormones. And with the SAME product! It's a shame I didn't major in marketing. No, really, it is. I majored in writing, and man, I am going to be SO poor.

- I shall continue to maintain my charmingly split personalities of Zen Morgan and mean, bitter Pedro. (Or Paco. What the heck is my evil alter-ego's name, anyhow? It's been a while.) But let us not be hard on Pedro. He has a rough job, being so cynical. Often times, he is right, but he never gets credit for it, because nobody is ever in a hurry to tell a cynic how accurate he is, usually because their world has recently become a dark, evil place.

However, thanks to my new computer, Pedro/Paco/whatever will be rarely seen. In fact, all of my egos will be pretty much hidden away. I am planning on shaping my bedsheets and blankets into a primitive cocoon, and living within the warm confines. I shall learn to consume airborne zooplankton to feed myself without having to leave my PC, and instead of going to the bathroom, I will train my body to convert all waste into a liquid form, which I shall sweat out at regular intervals and have said sweat evaporate into the atmosphere. I also have a plan to satisfy my innate sexual and reproductive urges, but trust me, it's not worth thinking about.

If you need me, I'll be in my blankie. I mean, cocoon.

- The Ayatollah of Rock 'N Rollah -