The end of last year's tree trimming party.
Zen and the Art of Linear Programming: Tonight, I walked into my Deterministic Models final exam with the placid, Zen-like calm of a condemned man approaching the gallows. I had studied decently hard, but there was nothing more to be done, I either was prepared or I wasnít. My nerves were calmed mainly by four magic words: Open book, open notes. I think I did well on the final. Well enough to offset my horrible start in the class, which I blame primarily on the 102 degree fever I was running when I took the first quiz. In any case, I found out a few weeks ago that I will not have to take Stochastic Models as one of my three remaining courses prior to graduation, which means I can start forgetting linear programming this very instant. With the aid of the impending holiday party season, Iím sure I wonít be able to remember how to manipulate a simplex tableau by the time the new year rolls around. Bring on the fun, its winter break!
Tally Ho, Indeed: The candidate passages for the annual Bad Sex in Fiction award have been announced and they are as dire as ever. Like Zorro, man, like Zorro. I canít imagine being able to write this stuff with a straight face, let alone read it that way.
Baby, Donít Get Me Started: Two lively songs from the state thatís round on the ends and hi in the middle.