I’m not sure how much I’ve really talked about this on the RT, but I’m paying my way through law school with a graduate assistantship here at the university. I’m the assistant to the guy who plans the two annual open houses (I’m not the assistant regional manager, but close enough). That means two weekends out of my scholastic year are particularly, ball-breakingly hectic. But I reiterate: “...paying my way through law school...”
So this past weekend was one of those weekends. I was up around , and on campus by 5:30 (I’d lie and tell you I was here at five, but Sara knows the truth and would rat me out while she extends her Starburst wrapper chain). I was done by about , and drinking by about 4:00:01pm.
This event actually went pretty well, all things considered. The guy I work for has it set up like clockwork, so really my job on the day-of is likened to an artistic director who is also a firefighter. My day consists of 1. Hope everyone remembers their lines, and also 2. Put out fires. And also I have to be as flexible as a somethingorother. Damn, I’m so good at metaphor.
And if I don’t die, I pretty much win The Weekend. Oh, and I get a hoopdie to ride around in. Phat!