Student SPHere 2008-09

This last Saturday, I had the distinct pleasure of taking my Stat8101 final exam. The joy of a two hour Saturday exam was augmented by one of the nastiest colds I have ever had in my life. And let me tell you, there is nothing in the universe quite as elating as futzing through proofs for two hours while it feels like you are simultaneously being strangled by a very weak boa constrictor and choking on a large, hairy insect. After that “fun� was over, I thought I would treat myself to the Blizzard of the Month at Dairy Queen. I am a member of the Blizzard fan club, and had not yet partaken of this month’s soft serve tastiness, but alas! My few minutes serene of tooth-rotting bliss was shattered by the appearance of a pair of a most particular breed of Minnesotan: the Twin-Cities Hobo.
Now, in New York there were many, many, many hobos. In fact, the only thing in New York more populous than the hobos are the Starbucks. However, these hobos were classy. They did not rudely accost you and demand money. They did not belligerently argue with you about how much booze money they felt you should give them. No, they sat quietly out of the way, peeing on themselves in solitude. But, not Twin Cities hobos, oh no! They initiate conversations, aggressively demand money, and in general interact much more closely with any unfortunate soul who happens to be within shouting distance. Such actions from a New York hobo are rare, and are only accompanied by a mugging. So if you are approached by a Manhattan hobo, you should run like heck, because you are about to get stabbed and stripped of your iPod. Needless to say, I was not comfortable with the fact that this dynamic duo was attempting to cozy up with me and my blizzard, filling my nostrils with the sophisticated potpourri of body odor, urine and cheap alcohol. I left my blizzard to fend for itself and scurried home. I have to say, these Twin Cities hobos could take a lesson in panhandling etiquette from their more sophisticated Big Apple compatriots. Let’s get with the program guys.
The rest of the weekend was enveloped in a baking flurry. I was lucky enough to just have a 24-hour “bug,� so feeling quite refreshed on Sunday, I cranked up my favorite Elvis album, and rip snorted my way through seven varieties of cookie: double chocolate biscotti, spritz, mini pecan pies, rolled sugar cookies, caramel pecan clusters, chocolate mint puddles, and Russian tea cakes. I now have over 350 cookies in my apartment, and it is glorious.
Speaking of glorious, how about those Steelers? If it took a “controversial touchdown� to secure the title, then so be it. A win is a win in my book. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some cookies to eat…