Jalapeno Popper

I was sitting in a certain frigid classroom today, plotting my escape. I won't say which classroom I was in or which Professor was speaking, only that I was cold and the heat outside was beckoning to me. It's the first week of senior year and I'm ready to put my head down and soak up my last few months of ACADEMIA before the REAL WORLD comes clamoring forth to steal me away (FYI I shivered when I read that last sentence) but I'm lacking in inspiration. What do I mean? Well, over the years I've tried to pepper my course requirements with the random cleverly titled anthropology/ sociology/ english classes. I've studied Moby Dick and Messianic cultures and the inception of Hip Hop in America. Thus far, none of my classes this fall are proving to be of that variety. Sure, they will be informative and rigorous and undoubtedly my brain will swell to the size of a cantaloupe during finals time. And yet, when I look at my weekly schedule, my blood refuses to boil and my heart does not race with anticipation. I think it's time to throw in one of those jalapeno popper classes, the kind that turns your level headed friend's attention and makes them say "what the fuck? what do you even DO in that?" When the Apocalypse comes, I want to be armed with thorough knowledge of the eclectic and taste for adventure.