The Finite

Right now I’m sitting in an eight-foot puddle of refrigerator drippings, packing away my crap and getting ready to shave off my finals beard. (I look like Ghost from the Matrix; badass but with no suit.) My unused caffeine sits on my desk and nauseates me to look at it.

I’m sick. But I also got an A in Immunology. So I know what’s going on in my tonsils which makes me yell at them. Which doesn’t do much more than make my tonsils hurt. Stupid lymphocytes. Of course, this is probably my fault. Staying up until 3AM every night for a week huddled in a steel carrel twenty feet underground in a building that, I’m pretty sure, doesn’t exist until finals and shotgunning sweetener with coffee on it is bound to decimate anyone’s immune system. Oh, well. Three finals in twenty hours. Had to be done. Right now, my GPA’s activity comes down to 10 points of Biochem questions and something involving Sanger sequencing.

Anyway, it’s hard to be funny at a time like this (even though my tweets may contradict) so I’m going to stop now and try to live like a normal person.*

*No! I’m not going to stop blogging and live normally. Chill the hell out.

*Tommy sets his drink cup down on the counter and the handcuffs dangling on his wrist clatter loudly. Tara, Doug and Matt stare.*
Tommy: (dripping with irony) Somebody… just ask me how my day was.

Tommy: Tara, do I freak out too much?
Tara: It’s natural.
Tommy: Well, yeah, for a rabbit.

*Tommy is casually putting dressing on a salad.*
Eric: (without provocation) Dammit, Tommy! We will not stand for that sort of obscenity here!
Tommy: Just because I’m tossing my own salad?

Audrey: How are shakes coming-?
Tommy: I’m givin’ ‘er all she’s got, Capt’n! I dinnae have any more mixer heads!

Sam: Oh, god, why do you have handcuf- never mind. Don’t tell me.

Call outs

“Orders 291 and 292, your shakes have been up for so long that I’ve given them nicknames. Please come claim Herbie and Shelly.”

“Oh, 763, I’m your shake and I’m cold and lonely. Please come get me.”

“568, did you know that your Grilled Cheese sandwich contains as much calcium as a glass of milk? For the sake of your growing bones, please come claim it.”

“The Harrison Grille is now closed for the semester. We hope you’ll join us again when we reopen on the Sunday before classes start in January, but right now, our sleep-deprived employees have to go home to their wives and mothers. Good luck on your remaining finals and have a good break.”

*Someone in a electronic Darth Vader mask is at the pickup area.*
Tommy: No, sir, I’m afraid your sandwich isn’t ready yet-
Darth Vader: (incomprehensible)
Tommy: We have a lot of tickets right now, but they have to be done in the order they came….
Darth Vader: (Incomprehensible, holds out hand)
Tommy: (grabs neck, chokes)

And let’s not forget the computer-system-is-down-so-everyone-dance-in-the-kitchen nights.