Mushroom.

November 20, 2008

I just did an update, but you are getting a 2 for 1 special here.
It’s like an all-you-can-eat buffet, without the food or satisfaction.
If I were you, I’d refuse to pay and leave the restaurant in disgust. Go to McD’s instead; at least you can get a tan under their neon lights. I’d just provide you with a lecture on the dangers of UV exposure.
Thought a couple of updates wouldn’t go amiss, particularly as that is the primary purpose of a blog.

Upon our afore mentioned return from London, James and I had to prepare a joint presentation for our Criminology class. It was being peer assessed, meaning we had to be really nice to the preceding groups, otherwise we would be penalised for being generally shit people.
There was one girl, Julia, who was very forthcoming in her opinions. I choose not to change her name, firstly because the chances of her reading this are slim to none, and if anyone in the class did find this, they would immediately know who I was talking about anyway. Pointless.
Anyway, she was taking notes on every presentation, making sure her critiques were noted by the lecturer and even telling those giving the presentation to their faces that they had not quite met the standards set by another team. She even tried to rearrange the structure of the peer assessment, saying she wanted something to compare each group to, and could we do the input at the end? No. Each group should be seen individually and not gauged against anything else, you fucking mental.
James and I went last, so we were able to see what we were getting ourselves into. She was ripping into everyone mercilessly. After doing our presentation, we left the room, so the class could talk about us, which did wonders for our self esteem. Upon reentry, we discovered they’d moderated us at 57%. A mark we felt was undeserving, but acceptable. We did write the presentation in only one night, after all.
Julia came up to us after the lesson and told us she hadn’t said anything bad about our presentation. I nearly shit myself in shock, and offered a rather too high-pitched ‘Really?!’. She then clarified it had only been because she “couldn’t be bothered, and had given up by that point.” So basically, it was so shit you had too much to say, was that it? Oh, thanks. I’m glad you shared that.

The following week, the class was positively giddy in anticipation for Julia’s presentation. I was waiting to be blown away by this wonderous piece of research, upon which clearly no other group had been able to rise to the standard of. If I was in a teen drama which sees the overconfident girl get her comeuppance, I would have predicted she’d volunteer to go first.
Which, naturally, she did.
It was a perfectly fine presentation, nothing wrong with it at all. Not amazing by any standards. Now, it had become the X Factor of classroom assessments. The American Idol of peer reviews. Everyone was a critic when Julia and her groupmate left the room.

The lecturer Nicola followed the same format as with the other presentations.
“Right, any positive comments?” Silence. Broken only by me wheezing with laughter like a geriatric clown.
“Ok… Negatives.” The room exploded. It was a beautiful thing to behold. This went on for several minutes, after which Nicola managed to regain control. It was decided their mark would be 63%, which everyone knew would put Julia’s face out of joint. The tension bristled as she walked back into the class.
After being told the mark, she said not one word for the rest of the two hour session. After being so bloody vocal the week previously, she was quiet as a mouse. And pretty much every other group got applauded, but hers. Hey, don’t piss off the people who are going to be judging you. Common sense.

If you’ve reached this far, you should be probably be doing something more constructive with your time.
Like writing about that time you put your brother in a hospital by dangling him upside down from a tree, or something equally sadistic.

I don’t normally come home from Uni on a Wednesday night. I generally stay at my boyfriend’s, as it’s closer and easier to get to. Tonight was the exception to the rule. I stood up to get off the bus, and realised I’d jumped the gun, and was going to get off too early; I’d forgotten about the bus stop that is in the middle of nowhere, and faces a field full of horses and nothing else. I could have told the driver of my mistake, but something implored me to get off the bus. I did, and immediately regretted it, because it was fucking bitter cold.
So I began the gallop down the hill to where I was being picked up, where I noticed a shape on the other side of the road. At first glance it looked like a cat. I did a double take and before my eyes were focussed, it looked like a grey piece of piping.
Then I realised, it was a badger.
Even living in a village, I’ve never seen one in the wild before. I didn’t know what to do. It was on the kerb, next to a fairly busy road. Should I go over and try to scare it away? But I’ve heard they’re vicious as anything. It looked up and clocked me staring at it. I blinked, and when I looked again it was scampering away into the bushes behind it.
I enjoy wildlife.

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2 Responses to “Mushroom.”

  1. […] request: More brotherly injuries I was reading LauBrau’s latest post when midway through she requested I write this.  Naturally, I dropped everything and came right […]

  2. Andrew said

    Since you asked for it:
    http://memsandanecs.wordpress.com/2008/11/20/by-request-more-brotherly-injuries/

    All you can eat buffets don’t usually have the quality of food that leaves you with a feeling of “satisfaction.” Indigestion is more likely. I found these blogs satisfying, despite your aimed at me cheekiness, though I wouldn’t object to maybe a spot of tea and biscuits, I hear tell that it’s all the rage round your parts.

    I don’t think I understand your grading system, 57% is a failing grade, that would never happen in a peer reviewed presentation here.

    A badger! Scary. Mostly I just see deer in my yard when I get home late at night. Or squirrels when I’m at uni.

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