Number Five...
How to begin? The odd semesters have never been kind to me. There is something about the winter chill, and having to go through thousands and thousands of dumb scientific dissections that really put the paper checkers in a foul mood. You'd think that my take on life philosophies, combined with some light wordplay and abstract art, not to mention song lyrics that totally explain how Bubble Sort works, would come as a breath of fresh air and bring some much needed joy into their dreary, cheerless lives, but nooooo! I staunchly believe that if filling answer sheets were an art, mine would adorn the walls of the Louvre. Take good ol' Leonardo for an example. Here he was, casually doodling, sketching out the lady manning the hoopla stall at the local science fair, with every intention to get laid. She was probably giving him mixed signals, hence the facial anomaly. But that piece of random scribbling is now on the lips of every person on the face of the Earth, popularly known as The Mona Lisa. That is totally how we geniuses roll. (Yes, I am at my narcissistic best today) What would these university paper checkers know? Gah!
Moving on, tomorrow the semesters kick off with the paper on Microprocessors and Microcontrollers. Naturally, as per tradition, I know nothing. Yesterday, I'd planned to start with this, but as fate would have it, the needs of the world outweighed my own. Okay, that's not totally true. I spent the morning listening to Yanni, the afternoon was spent laughing over the antics of a little ant acting all retarded (that makes two, the ant AND me) and finally with the advent of evening, I managed to gather up my senses (most of them atleast) and started studying. On the very second page, I came across the paragraph that goes thus,
Address Bus: There are a hundred houses, each having their own addresses. Suppose the Boss of a company wants to give a massage to one of his employees, who lives there. He gives the massage to the postman, with the address of the employee, who in turn gives it to the employee. The postman here is the address bus and the Boss is the CPU.
I fell off my bed, I rolled around on the floor, laughing in agony for the next two hours, and by then time I'd recovered, my body hurt, I was out of breath and totally exhausted. So, with two glorious pages full of massage giving bosses completed, I fell asleep. I wonder if I can sue the publisher if I flunk this one. This is exactly why us Wbut students fail to get jobs. These textbooks raise the bar to ridiculously high levels. When we walk in for job interviews, we expect a high salary, job security, and regular massages by the boss or, at the very least, provided via the postman if the head honcho has more pressing needs. I so blame the education system for this mindset.
Anyway, can't help it. I do my best to spread awareness, but does anyone listen? Nooo..! I don't see why I'm not taken seriously. Oh well, your loss folks. Now, seeing as how that one paragraph on desperate bosses is not going to help me pass the examination tomorrow, I'd better go gather some more dirt on these said bosses. Ciao!
Moving on, tomorrow the semesters kick off with the paper on Microprocessors and Microcontrollers. Naturally, as per tradition, I know nothing. Yesterday, I'd planned to start with this, but as fate would have it, the needs of the world outweighed my own. Okay, that's not totally true. I spent the morning listening to Yanni, the afternoon was spent laughing over the antics of a little ant acting all retarded (that makes two, the ant AND me) and finally with the advent of evening, I managed to gather up my senses (most of them atleast) and started studying. On the very second page, I came across the paragraph that goes thus,
Address Bus: There are a hundred houses, each having their own addresses. Suppose the Boss of a company wants to give a massage to one of his employees, who lives there. He gives the massage to the postman, with the address of the employee, who in turn gives it to the employee. The postman here is the address bus and the Boss is the CPU.
I fell off my bed, I rolled around on the floor, laughing in agony for the next two hours, and by then time I'd recovered, my body hurt, I was out of breath and totally exhausted. So, with two glorious pages full of massage giving bosses completed, I fell asleep. I wonder if I can sue the publisher if I flunk this one. This is exactly why us Wbut students fail to get jobs. These textbooks raise the bar to ridiculously high levels. When we walk in for job interviews, we expect a high salary, job security, and regular massages by the boss or, at the very least, provided via the postman if the head honcho has more pressing needs. I so blame the education system for this mindset.
Anyway, can't help it. I do my best to spread awareness, but does anyone listen? Nooo..! I don't see why I'm not taken seriously. Oh well, your loss folks. Now, seeing as how that one paragraph on desperate bosses is not going to help me pass the examination tomorrow, I'd better go gather some more dirt on these said bosses. Ciao!
the sexy boomerangs did not get mentioned at all huh? :D
ReplyDeletesaving some of that for later. it's important not to come across as a complete nutter! :D
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