The Post Belatedly Titled

    Well, the grouchiest of the Desperadoes is back!  And I am just as grouchy as ever, though not quite as bloodthirstily as Bebo seems to believe, as in his last blog he said that I am only taking History next quarter to study gruesome battle scenes.  That is untrue, because, one, I am taking History so that I can laugh at all of the stupid people who have "gone on before" and, two, I only enjoy carnage if I am the one creating it (preferably with a backpack or an umbrella).  Bebo oughtta just play his oboe, that's what he oughtta do.
    At Olympic College, we are on the last day of the last week of the quarter.  This means that a lot of people who have treated attendance rather casually all quarter long have started mysteriously reappearing.  It's funny how proficient college students seem to be at the fine art of playing "now-you-see-me-now-you-don't."  It may be that we are educating our next generation of spies, snipers, and men's bathroom cleaners here at OC.  Who knows?
    Joe, Bebo, and I, of course, have been faithful to arrive here dark and early in rain and hail, tempest and unmanageable traffic, ice and slush, unfinished homework, forgotten breakfasts, suspected appendicitis, fiendish kittens, and other natural catastrophes.  We are very proud of ourselves.  In fact, the only days that Bebo and I have missed have been horse-related: Bebo was off tormenting himself and his lovely equine at some exhibition on the first day of classes, and on this last Wednesday I hauled my Delicate Flower, Hamlet, off to his new Mommy somewhere far to the south of the state.  I'm not sure about particulars, having spent the entire trip either bickering with my parents about horse poop or reading a translation of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. 
    All in all, it has been a fairly, umm, salubrious quarter.  We can now consider ourselves to be veteran college students (as well as veteran commuters!!)  We have attended classes, scraped by, and are now moving on to our second quarter, filled with the trepidation that experience engenders.  Wish us luck! Not that I believe in luck, but it sounds like a nice, cliche thing to say.


~Hugo the Horrible