All of my grades for the Fall Semester have finally been posted. There were a couple of happy surprises, and a couple of not-so-happy surprises.

The first of the not-so-happy surprises was the B+ in Impact of Computers on Society. The only thing I can figure is that either my final paper or presentation grade was very poor: all my prior assignments were all Bs and As, and my attendance was perfect (well, y’know, except the one day I fell asleep after drinking quite a bit beforehand). I had been expecting an A.

I remember saying to someone after Roots of Rock and Roll one day that I’d thought it would be my “Rocks for Jocks” class when I registered for it, and was rapidly revising my opinion of it. Three to four pages of notes a class fired off machine gun style. With only four grades for the entire semester, I was nervous when I got a C on the midterm, and relieved to get an A on the first paper. I e-mailed Dr. Mancini about my second paper grade, was told he’d left all his paperwork at school until minimester, but “I remember your paper, and it was as fun to read as your first.” I had been very apprehensive about this paper – as I wrote the introduction after drinking following my accident – and was very happy to see the B.

Speaking of the letter grade B, that is also what I earned in Folklore, both for my final course grade, and the final exam.

Unfortunately, as regards Chaucer, which is a requirement (”Major Persons”) for my English Writing major, I have less than good news. While I passed the class, I needed a C to have it apply towards my major, and I failed to achieve a C. The course is not being offered again until next fall, and both Shakespeare classes are already filled for the semester. I’ve e-mailed the professor teaching those classes to see if it will be possible to add it at the start of next semester, but have not yet received a reply. I have a lot of excuses I can give for my poor performance in Chaucer: I was working full-time, I was under a lot of stress, the professor is tough, I wasn’t able to devote as much time as I would have otherwise. In the end, however, this is all my own spin, trying to convince myself that it isn’t really my fault, but of course, in the end, it was my fault, and the grade I’d earned.

UPDATE: Actually, he just e-mailed me. I’m going to attend the first class where we’ll “assess” my chances of getting in. But he did warn me there are apparently several others also trying to get in. Well, here’s hoping I might still have a chance for summermester.

UPDATE II: Thinking about summer’s minimester got me thinking about January minimester. There is a Shakespeare course being taught, but I’m not eligible for registration. E-mails are out to the Registrar (I might have to do an “in person” add on the first day of class) and to the English Department to make sure the class (”Topics In …”) will fulfill the requirement. Plus? The professor teaching it has the toughest reputation in the entire department. Still, gotta do what I gotta do …

Last week, after my Rock & Roll final (I got a B for the class, by the way), I went down to the Union Bookstore. An advertisement in the previous week’s Towerlight had said that spring semester’s books had arrived. Apparently, I didn’t read the advertisement very carefully, as actually, only some of the semester’s books had arrived (although, I suppose I should have known this). As it was, only for one of my classes had books arrived, House of Sand and Fog and Everything is Illuminated for my Film and Literature class. Since I was there already, I picked them up and was on my way.

Flash forward to Monday, where I was scheduled for a nine hour shift at the Franchise and wound up leaving at ten and a half hours. Day shift was very slow — I wound up spending much of the day in the back of the store with House of Sand and Fog, the back door open, and forgetting that instead of being a week away from Christmas, feeling that it was late March or early April.

First, I’m loving House of Sand and Fog. While I’ve been enjoying the book, I find myself reading it with an eye towards writing potential papers on it. I’m the better part of two hundred pages in, and I find myself fully sympathetic to both characters.

Anyway, getting home from work, I was overcome by the strong desire to house-clean. I’d love to say my entire apartment is spic and span, but I did undo the burners on the oven, scrub them with bleach and a sponge, and, oh, look, they’re shiny steel — who knew?!

The Frankfurt Train Station Brickshelf Gallery.

Y’know, as proud as I am of my 7′ tall Hogwarts Castle made of Lego, construction on that was actually very simple: brick stacked atop brick. I look at this, with its very complicated techniques, and all I can say is that I am, without doubt, in total and complete awe.

Most quick-serve pizza shops — like the Indy or the Franchise — use a conveyor-belt oven. You put the pizza uncooked on the conveyor belt, which carries it into the oven, and then brings it out fully cooked. If an employee is not waiting on the other end to take the pie out of the oven (with the peel), the pizza will fall off the edge of the oven and “commit suicide.” There is a device which can be fitted to the frame of the conveyor belt which forms a raised barrier and will keep a pizza safe from such “death.” The drawback to using this device is that the conveyor belt is longer than the oven proper — if a pie sits on the conveyor belt out of the oven for more than a minute or so, it becomes more rubbery than crisp (which can be noticed when cutting).

The device isn’t actually practical for full-time use. If you’ve got an oven full of pizzas, the restrictions placed on the use of the peel by the device (you can only remove items from the side, unless you make a sharp angle of approach), and by the fact that failing to notice pizzas backing up will result in them burning to a cinder. In practical terms, it is a lot easier to reverse the peel itself into the oven if you’re going to be away for a minute or so.

Last Wednesday, after working an “entire” eleven hour shift, a hypothetical coworker of mine, who I may or may not have hypothetically written about before, and am hypothetically writing about now because my hypothetical boss gave me permission despite having previously forbidden me from doing so, may have hypothetically used the device written about above, then failed to remove it from the oven upon leaving. The hypothetical coworker may or may not have a name beginning with “Z.”

The best part was what Greg told me next. Seems the closing driver was in the back doing dishes, and heard the phone ring and saw a delivery order on the screen. So he went back to doing dishes knowing that as soon as the order was ready to go, the AMINO* would call back and alert him. Twenty-three minutes later, after finishing all the dishes, he wondered why the delivery order wasn’t ready. So he walked up front and found the AMINO in an argument with the late driver. The pizza was on the end of the conveyor belt, prevented from falling onto the floor by the device which enabled the AMINO to load a pizza and completely forget about it, thereby resulting in it leaving the store after having been cooled for fifteen minutes or so.

And this is why working makes me want to drive my head into a plate glass window head first, then shoot myself repeatedly in the head. After Greg told me this story, I inisited we make sure it never happen again, and for that reason, the Sissy Bar was pitched very enthusiastically into the dumpster, at which point I used my new cell phone to send a pic-message to AMINO, whose response included, in part, an admonishment for me “…go to hell.”

*Assistant Manager In Name Only.

I was all set to sit down and write a post decrying “Blog Crush Day” as a stupid idea designed to get bloggers looking at each other, and batting their eyes, and saying, “oh, no, I like you.” Moderately offensive is the bastardization of the word “terrific” — Bloggerific? What is that?

“Blog Crush Day” — which was actually last week, because I’m totally untimely — is the brainchild of Ms Sizzle & Sandra. These types of memes are designed to make everyone feel huggy-lovey as well as increase traffic between blogs. Me, I like increasing blog traffic the old fashioned way, by, y’know, visiting a lot of blogs, commenting, and seeing if a blog-to-blog relationship develops. It’s a lot like meeting someone in a bar. Maybe you strike it off and get along, and maybe you don’t, but if you don’t make the effort, you don’t know.

Speaking of memes, I know I have like no authority to speak because, y’know, I do participate in the occasional meme. The other reason I can’t really — or, shouldn’t really — critique “Blog Crush Day” is because, wow, judging from this definition, I do indeed have some blog crushes, but, uh, I’m not going to be revealing them.