Wednesday, September 10

I'm now sitting in my PoliSci 181 class-the one in which the professor's voice rarely rises above 3 decibles. He kinda looks like Alfred from Batman by the way (the original-with Adam West). To my enjoyment, in response to Alfred's request that someone ask a question, a 40+ man in the back with his legs crossed, wearing khaki shorts, boating shoes and sporting two newspapers wedged in his armpit, raised his hand and proceeded to ask a question. I didn't catch what he said because I was transfixed on his pepper-colored beard, reading glasses and comb-over. I just snickered-reveliing in the fact that it was he, not I, who was skewing the mean age of the class.



Before class I involuntarily embraced Berkley's diversity. Rather, I inhaled Berkeley's diversity. I'm not sure of the young lady's nationality or ethnicity, but she smelled like France-not the trees or vinyards, but the Parisian opposition to hygienic fervor. Her fonk made my nose itch and my throat burn. I moved to the other side of the room.