manscaping

Life is a cabaret.

For the girl that can't give a simple answer about which sexual position is her favorite, I picture her indecisiveness as her spinning like a top atop the guy's penis. "Which way do I go, which way do I go?"

Staring down at my neuroendo notes today, it would seem that my note-taking skills have not improved a bit since college. It's still a clutter of text right around the handout, 6 slides to a page.

Then again, some people just don't take notes at all. Whenever Drab sat next to me in Genetics with Dr. Stewart, I would always notice him peering over onto my paper, followed by him writing down whatever he found pertinent from my sheets. The rest of the time he would just be fidgeting- to the point where it shook my seat as well- or drawing caricatures of Dr. Stewart: huge thick black glasses, with one hand tapping the back of the other hand. Janey and My-oh-Myra as well, in Animal Behavior when I was still in that class. One on the left would look at my notes, then the one on the right. Even if I could pick up and write down everything, I couldn't retain any of the information. Such is the drawback of not being able to multi-task. Then again, I'm a guy. Girls are supposed to be better at multi-tasking than guys, who basically have a one-track mind. My mind's derailed. Gay always had good notes. Clare and Lizbean just had nice moleskines or other pocket books in which they imprinted their fanciful handwriting.

I thought I bombed the linear algebra midterm. I picked up my test today. 40 out of 40. I was so giddy. Getting more excited over math tests than science tests. Maybe my inner math nerd hasn't died yet.