Friday, April 21, 2006
After ellipticizing late this evening, I journeyed to work to snag a free beverage. Crystal fixed an odd drink for Boo and me: two parts Coca Cola to one part root beer and one part Dr. Pepper. One would think this a thoroughly disgusting combination, but it tastes magnificent, ignoring the fact that it gives one's tumbly the rumblies.
Yesterday from three-thirty to seven in the evening I attended a graduate student symposium thrown by the classics department, whereinwhich Sharada, Tim, Mathew, and three other graduate students read papers they had composed over the semester for their seminar over Aristophanes' Frogs. Not having read the play, I had nothing to ask about or any contentions to make regarding their research. They seemed well enough composed.
The evening became more interesting, for most people attending ate dinner at an Indian restaurant. I bummed a ride from someone (Travis, one of the other graduate students reading a paper), despite not really being able to afford the night out, but mostly wanting to spend more time with the trio before they vanish. Plus, I considered it my birthday fete, considering I shall work the day of my birthday and will consequently have no time for anything else.
Anyhow, I managed to say something off-the-wall every time I opened my mouth. At some point the conversation at one end of the long table at which we were all dining (twelve people) ceased whilst the discussion at my end continued. I don't quite remember the context or the exact question, but somehow someone asked me something about Matt, and I responded with, "My thighs" (in reference to the comment I made to his goading me about not wanting to climb the rock wall several weeks ago, when I shrieked that he was never going to strap anything around my thighs). After a brief pause, during which naughty sexual implications were realized, everyone- the graduate students, Matt's girlfriend, the tenured professors, my graduate advisor, and the professor who flew in from Ohio State University to give the keynote lecture- burst out laughing at me as I hid my face in shame. Matt then screamed, "Lauree- I told you to be discreet!"
Later, as the Ohio State professor returned from having joined Dr. Lavigne for a brief smoke break, he sat down to me telling Tim, "It was eighth grade, and this girl was pregnant. She told me she would beat me up, and I had no doubt she could do it." Yet again, he and Dr. Lavigne shared a laugh at my expense. Since the Ohio guy was staying at Dr. Lavigne's apartment, he rode with as Dr. Lavigne drove me back to the Lauree Lair. Usually I invite anyone who gives me a ride to come in for a romp on my tent bed, but I figured it might cause some scandal if my RA caught me escorting two thirty-something men to my room.
This afternoon Matt substituted as instructor of my Greek class. He definitely seemed less "on the ball" with the lesson as usual, but I made no comment about his wine consumption the night previous. He did apologize to the class, at one point saying, "I'm still a little tired from yesterday". I, in a rare exercise of prudence, said nothing to this, either.
After classes I managed to finish typing all but a sound conclusion for the Troia paper. With a conclusion and final revisions to the bibliography, it will be complete. Tomorrow I should make a Power Point presentation for class. Then I have one more week before the nightmare ends.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:07 PM]