Hello, my name is Robert and I am a drug addict. Actually, just kidding. But now that I finished my bio exam in one more or less intact piece, I must say that that Vivarin stuff is bad news. On my honor I swear I am never taking it again, at least until my next exam rolls around.
So here's the deal: the Barbie girls made me do it. Allow me to back up. Last week I was sitting in Filene before Bio 16, minding my own non-reading non-problem set doing business. I couldn't help but tune in on the little conversation behind me. These three little freshmen girls were talking about the assignment for the day.
"I thought the reading for today was really interesting. I was a little unclear on a couple points but I went and talked to the professor and got it all straight."
"Did you finish all the problems?"
"Yep. One of them was kind of tough but I kept trying and I figured it out."
And so on. I am not making this up. As I was sitting there, it reminded me of the uproar a while back about this Barbie that had one of those pull-string talking mechanisms. This Barbie incarnation was a student or something, and when you pulled the string she said "Math is tough!", probably negating decades of struggle for sex equality. Well, the three freshmen Barbies behind me had little talking mechanisms that said, "Bio is fun! And so easy!"
They then proceeded to discuss how they couldn't wait for medical school, which I suppose explained a good deal.
At this point, mind you, I was not even in the correct month, reading-wise. My hand tightened around the Mechanical Pencil of Death that had so recently been occupied with happily writing the date in the corner of my notebook.
Time slowed and the scenarios played out in my head. I could turn the pencil loose and fill the Barbies full of hundreds of little puncture wounds and cute little bits of graphite. Or I could not do that, and avoid 25 to life in federal prison picking up the soap every morning for 350-pound child molesters. Then the Barbies started discussing how well their reviewing was progressing for the exam that was still a week away, and I decided to take my chances with the child molesters. I hear some of them are not bad people.
Luckily the professor began class at that point. At any rate, I was somewhat guilted into getting to work for the bio exam. I mean, if the Barbies were in any way typical of the youngin' ('02) bunch in bio, then Uncle Rob was in trouble.
So it was that Uncle Rob (who when he is studying refers to himself exclusively in the third person avuncular) cracked the books hard core on Sunday. And most of Sunday night / Monday morning. Uncle Rob noted the lovely sunrise and put himself to bed until his 9, 10, and 11, all of which were graced by his somewhat catatonic presence. After that it was pretty much study study study Vivarin Vivarin Vivarin until exam time.
All the while Uncle Rob (still studying; keeping the title, goddammit) heard the voice of his dead roommate Andrew (well, not dead, but in France for the term or something like that). "I left Rob Diet Dr. Pepper. Tell him to drink that and not take that Vivarin." Try to imagine Andrew's voice as it truly is, a mixture of Flaming and Genuinely Concerned, and his wisdom sounds more entertaining, I think.
Now that the exam's done, I have that post Vivarin wind-down twitch. I don't know if it's withdraw or what, but the body must have more drugs! Now!
Just kidding. Actually, I am going to bed now; keeping up with the Barbie girls has worn me out. And I am never taking that Vivarin stuff again. Well, at least not until the next time I hear someone say, "Bio is fun! And so easy!" Must control Mechanical Pencil of Death!
