Johnny Cash, Johnny Cash, Johnny Cash! Finally, the day of reckoning is upon.
I was talking to Rockstar today about my writing major. I told him I was thinking of shuffling around my classes a bit, try to get some more creativity in the mix. My brain is feeling stale without my music classes and such.
To which Rockstar said, “Poptarts.”
What a great idea! Next semester, I’ll sign up for the upper-division, 3 credit Poptart. The only materials needed for the class are one (1) Poptart. Buy a pack and share the extra with a friend. The class doesn’t actually meet, there’s no work involved, no projects, no papers, just a Poptart. But it’s a Poptart for which you get college credit.
Tomorrow I’ll walk into my advisor’s office and say, “Upper division Poptart. No questions, just make it happen.”
12:49 a.m.: I’m as giddy as a school girl on Prom night with a varsity chess player in his sexy toboggan being dragged behind a scooter. My rough draft of Thoreau is a Jerk (working title) is finally finished. Now all I need to do is reboot the computer so the printer works and fire that sucker over the USB.
This calls for a celebration. Advil, 1000 mg vitamin C, melatonin 3, Kahlua.