Tall Tales

Last night, I ate a much bigger plate of pad Thai than I should have. But it was home made and went well with all our stories. Ashley's dad shot off the head of a cat while poor little Roger watched. It was either that or a horse in the bed, I suppose, since the lesson was on watching out for family. Mark had a medication error that caused him to be strung out for days until his pharmacist tracked him all the way to Tanzania to correct the mistake, all before a climb up Kilimanjaro. But that pales in comparison to Dave's story. He was dehydrated and left alone under a tree in the Sahara while his guide went off to find help. Dave owes his life to a nomad his guide found while lost in the desert (I wouldn't recommend this guide in the future) The nomad knew the exact tree the guide was trying to get to and managed to find poor dying Dave just in time. Not a dull story in the bunch. It was probably best then, that my story led the night. It contained no hilarity, near death experiences, or violence, just Prof B(l)ender and some failed sucking up.

Moi: Professor B(l)ender, I was in your class in the spring. (He had 100+ students in 2 schools and I almost never spoke in class. It was only fair that I introduced myself first.)

B(l)ender: You think that I don't remember you. But I do. (But offers no details to back up his claim)

Moi: Everyone at [Internship] told me to take your class. They all raved about you.

(Silence, come to realize that sucking up requires even more compliments than this, struggle for a bit as I doodled through much of the semester)

Moi: ... And everything you said, from framing to understanding the uh, environment, all came into play.

B(l)ender looks pleased, starts raving about the same three topics, and we part amicably. Then I take a cat out back and shoot its head off.