* * * 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: