Take an olive fork, put it in a pneumatic pump, shoot me straight through the bloody head...preferably the back so I don't have to see it.

I never realized it before, but my discipline is boring as fuck. Just pages after pages of theory...this brain wave does this, this guy thought of this theory for this physiological response, this other guy says he's full of himself and constructs a new theory with even more uselessly complicated 'English,' and blah blah blah. On and on and on..dear God you have no idea the sheer boredom factor involved.

So as I'm thinking this I wonder, "well, self, we've reach critical mass on the 'boring as fuck' metre. Praytell what do we do now, Kemosabi?" I'm not quite sure...but the thought of going in to my field is appealing less and less to me. I like the idea of the whole thing...but the application aspect makes me vomit. Maybe I could just teach the stuff mostly and do a bit of research...I'd love to inject some life into this cocktail-luncheon whorehouse of a major.

I have another 70 pages to read after my lecture notes. I hear that weird song, you know, the one with the people switching from one note to the next as some guy rings an anvil in synch...only it's while I'm running along a platform suspended in space with statues of famous psychophysiologists on either side, sporting monstrous flagellating members that grow and then thud mercilessly on said platform with each anvil ringing sound.

I'm stuck in Salvadore Dali land and I don't even get to ride the 50ft elephant stilt-legged things!

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