* * * Hanging Out With a Bunch of Grad Students * * * Of course, the first thing we'd do is go to the bar There's a quarter of a drink left here - The mixologist watches you with mild amusement as you gulp it down furiously... Whoa! It tastes like 5 parts ValU Vermouth, 4 parts The Cocoa Bean-Brand Kumquat Juice... She hoots, "Don't forget your T-Shirt!!" Then we'd start talking about what we were doing. They would say things like: Looking for volunteers for our current study: Recording of Redundant Coefficients of a R. Westheimer-Sound-Sphere Data Compression Distorted Limiting Factors in a Completely Carbon TetraBiteMe Laboratory at least until old Has-Sex-with-Eighty-Eight-year-old-Women would walk in. And then we would all say Thou unmuzzled onion-eyed lewdster and by that time, either one of us would pass out shortly after mumbling I DON'T HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM or we'd end up telling bad jokes like: Why did the hub cross the road?