* * * Hanging Out With a Bunch of Grad Students * * *
Of course, the first thing we'd do is go to the bar
The bartender says "My bar is your bar - help yourself!" -- you mix up:
1 parts Head-Poured Whiskey, 3 parts Bottom-Barrel Vitamin
Then we'd start talking about what we were doing. They would
say things like:
My senior thesis:
Selection of Fast Grapes Distorted Limiting Factors
at least until old
Master-of-Pissing
would walk in. And then we would all say
Thou goatish tickle-brained mumble-news
and by that time, either one of us would pass out shortly after mumbling
I CAN'T REMEMBER WHERE I AM
or we'd end up telling bad jokes like:
30 Reasons Why a 1,024 bit backplane Is Better Than Men: