Not much to do but write, so write, I shall.
This exam did worry me a tad. However, it was pretty much a breeze—a one hour and ten minute breeze, but a breeze nonetheless.
If this paper was only here to find our seats, why did they waste two sheets of paper on making it a packet?
A thought to ponder, perhaps? Maybe not.
I wonder what I would call this particular spiel…
'Memoirs Of A Spanish Final?'
'Somebody Punch Me In The Crotch, I'm So Bored?'
Ah, to wonder…I'm going to see if I can even keep this paper. Why would they need it, anyway? All it's got on it is my name and a number.
…Maybe they'll eat it. My sister eats paper.
Hm, reading that, it seems that I portray 'they' in a sinister light. I wouldn't want to be cynical…then again, I have distaste for Spanish. It tastes like ass. Yuck. Spanish.
Most people still aren't done; pretty much just Zach and I have finished. Oh, yeah, we're so smart. Woof.
At least 45 minutes until we get the hell outta here…if I continue at this rate, I'll run out of paper. And then what? I'll tell you what—my hand will stop hurting.
Why the shit aren't we allowed to go to the bathroom? I don't piss out Spanish tutors; if I did, I would go see the doctor, or something. …I probably shouldn't have had this entire $1 bottle of Tropicana lemonade…oh, well. If I have to piss on their floors, they have to clean it up.
We're in a medium-sized cafeteria. Do we really need 8 proctors, half of whom don't even teach Spanish?
Ah, more completions…but still 40 minutes before I can go. Mierda. That's Spanish for 'shit.' Use it sometime. Maybe you'll get knocked around by an immigrant…
14 rows of desks. The numbers of the rows are hanging horizontally on a line on blue pieces of construction paper…except 14, which is on white. Why? Are they prejudiced against the number 14? If it weren't an inanimate object, it would feel so ostracized.
Oh, yay, another proctor has arrived. God forbid we cheat on an exam about a language we don't care about. If you wanna teach a language, teach Japanese, 'cause they're the ones that are gonna imperialize the world in 15 or 16 years. Yeah, it'll happen—Russia's gonna bite the big one. 'Dah.'
Well, better the cafeteria than the gym—that place is hot. It's nice and cool in the cafeteria, which is good. I prefer the cold to the heat. Oh, a girl just took her sweatshirt off. See? Cold PWNED the heat. Yes, PWNED. Bam!
I hate scantrons. If you make a mistake, you can't erase it completely, no matter how hard you try.
Jimmy Dunn is staring intently at that fallacious story we had to read in the exam. A pig who gets dirty, no one likes him, and he gets help from a donkey and a bird. Fuck the pig, fuck the donkey, and fuck the bird. Then you'll have a nice crossbreed you can exploit. The Ponkird. Millions, man, millions. Trust me.
I want to grab the microphone they're using and scream an obscenity into it.
are some of my more favored choices, but whatever works, I s'pose.
28 minutes. Still bored, and the white noise of the vending machines is driving me nuts. If they hold me after the mark I'll go homicidal with this bitch of a ballpoint pen and its wooden buddies, the pencils Stab-Stab and Infection. Oh, you bet your ass the points are dull. Saw 3, here we come.
Damn near out of paper. What'd I say? Lots of time, nowhere to write. Oh, well. Until next exam…