Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Nashville, Day 3: No Country For Old Men

During class today, the instructor was talking about issues we were having with the lab network, and said, "You know, this network is like a woman, it can't make up it's mind!" Now, you know me and how different I think the sexes are, so I was fully like, "Tell me about it, brother!! Testify!"

So, I told you that Monday I was asking questions in class. Tuesday I lost the rest of my shyness and felt no fear in asking the dumbest of questions about the most basic things. My classmates couldn't be more aware of my ignorance if I had jumped up and down on their heads saying, "Blluubb-bbblll-pppppffftt! Duhh, I don't know stuff! Blll-phhht!"

Class wrapped up at six and I headed back to the hotel. I was thirsty from a day of sucking down Diet Cokes ("Now with more diuretics!"). Sadly, the water in Nashville tastes like drinking from a freshly chlorinated geothermal vent. (New tourism slogan: "Nashville is for sulfur and chlorine lovers!")

Now, before you call me a wuss for not drinking this tap water, recall that I have low standards. For instance, on this day I ate at Taco Bell for dinner (mmmm...). (By the way, I'm out $1.86 since I forgot to ask for a receipt for getting reimbursed) . So since I'm obviously not picky about flavor, something must be awfully wrong with the water system in town.

Anywho, that night I was planning to head to downtown Nashville to Robert's after class, but there was this "severe weather advisory", so I stayed in. Locals were really worried about the coming ice and snow. Even so, I still felt guilty and old, because really, I wasn't in the mood for going out anyways. (New tourist slogan: "Tennessee: Old men should just stay in their business parks and be lame.") So in lieu of beer and good music, me and the Pontiac Johnson hit the Taco Bell, then kicked back in the atrium to read a book.

I was enjoying the story, but had to work at diagramming some of the author's sentence structures until I reached hit this exemplar of a sentence:
"That had been during his student years in Albertina, before the ball arranged by Konigsberg's calvalry officers at which he first met Catherine Mahlsdorf and behind the dinner hall's damask curtain had given her the clandestine kiss which deprived him for ever of any desire for the kind of love one pays for."
What the hell ? Simplify, man! You're hurting my brain!

So, fed up, I headed upstairs to watch a movie on the in-house movie network thingy: No Country For Old Men. Give it the Best Picture award, please. It was one of the best films I've seen. I'm glad my better instincts chose that instead of Balls of Fury. Maybe we'll watch some Balls on Wednesday night.


Ms. A said...

That's a run-on sentence if I've ever seen one. Stream-of-consciousness writing gets old fast.

Balls! Balls! Balls! Balls!

Robert Huffman said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Kathleen said...

sweet Grammar Jesus, I could never have finished that book.

but then again I am a woman, so maybe I really love it!

John Judy said...

What the hell is a Pontiac Johnson?

You know the thing about run-on sentences is that while they may be difficult or even painful to read, writing them can be an exercise in authorial joy.

Simplify maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!

Ms. A said...

Ah yes, behind every excellent writer is an even better editor. Perhaps he forgot this fact.