Those who know me know that I am absurdly clueless. I think it has to do with the fact that always I want to finish it fast. My patience is reduced to zero. I remember in second grade when I was learning to read, the teacher put me in a reading course for "special children". Not that I was "special" like the others behind who could not read. I read fast to finish fast and not paying attention to detail. The others were the usual morons who take more than half an hour to read ga-ga-gaaa-to cat. In my case, I ignored the content and concentrating only on translating the symbols into words. The problem is that when it came time to answer the questions I had not the slightest fucking idea of \u200b\u200bthe details such as "In the first paragraph, how many chicks had mother hen? "Inventive as I am, I thought" my mom always said that the neighbor's daughter is fucking a chicken. So I guess the bitch hens must have all the chicks in the world. "In a hurry, not paying attention to details, I had second degree surrounded by Mongols who put names to their nose.
Today I'm still just as fast and awkward than ever. No, I have matured, that's a fact. Luckily studied philosophy. If you do not pay attention to detail, no one gets hurt. On the other hand if medical insurance would kill my patients in operations. "Sorry sir, I left a scalpel in his esophagus." If I were an engineer, the buildings would fall, and if an architect, I would forget to design the bathrooms. In philosophy, if I forget a detail, no one gets hurt. Incredibly, in addition, the philosophy is the only thing that slows me. When you have to read philosophers corduroy (Platon God forgive me for falling into this type of stereotypes) is a lumpia and also smoked the shit is in French, not you have another to read as slow as the second grade mongoloid: de-de_delai_laisse_delaisse_delaisseme : delaissement. (Lumpia: very fat marijuana joint)
For example today.
Incredibly, even when studying at the Sorbonne, I know very well in college. It turns out that the building had not been maintained since the nineteenth century. So this year are reshaping the building. Just when I come to study at the Sorbonne to fulfill my dreams, shut the fuck. Consequently, I had classes in music conservatories, concert halls and even in cinemas. Pasdar week, the teachers finally announced that we would move to the "Building of France" in a new development located in Paris. To get to school today, I did invent, as usual.
I left my house without checking the temperature on the Internet. I felt cold just knew there was a good day to get the bike. Since that bloody bastard stole my blanket on the bike leg TWICE, I have a rule that does not go out on a scooter unless you are over 4 ° C. For when I came to France he felt blessed Building legs. (I was in 2 ° C, thanks). That's the beauty of hypothermia, there comes a point where it may not feel the cold. I asked at reception about the room, nobody knew anything. (Typical of the Sorbonne, total disorganization.) Finally, someone recommended me to get on the first floor and ask around. When I got to the floor one that was empty. I give up and call the Secretariat: " Mademoiselle, we exam week, no classes." mother's pussy!
Enjoy!
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