I’m studying for a math test.
I hate math. I’m a waitress. My math skills are practical and simple. I can do simple addition in my head and I can figure out twenty percent of the bill in a millisecond, but I can’t figure out how to type it numerically without Google.
(Awe C’mon…you did it and you know it)
Now as bad as I am at math it continually amazes me how many people cannot figure out a tip without a calculator or a slide rule. Its just not that hard. You get ten percent and you double it. Or if you’re cheap 10 percent plus half. Want 18 percent? Figure out 15 and throw a few bucks on top. Round for godsakes! We’re waiters not accountants! What’s with 18 percent anyway? Go big or go home damnit.
Anyway I was going to take a math placement test today and as usual I thought it was all going to be easier than it actually was. I went to the school and they told me that the test wasn’t until 3 o’clock. I went home and grumbled at my roommate.
“Who the hell gives a test at three!? That is prime nap time!”
“It is for you.” He said.
“You know if we were having sex you would totally NOT be getting laid right now.”
Big lie. The idea of me withholding sex is sort of like a 400 lb carb addict screaming obscenities at a Pizza Hut.
“I’m never eating here again!!! Unless you have some of those cheesy dough ball things with the sauce in the middle…..You got any of those? Please?
So barring any reasonable retort I gave him side eye and went into my room to study. It seems I am a little rusty. And the word integer seems to have the same effect on me as the word football.
Go on. Say it. See what happens.
I can’t help it. I’ve tried. I have zero attention span. If you want me to watch a football game you need to give some me crayons or something. You think I’m kidding but scroll up and see just how many times I’ve been sidetracked in a simple post about….oh yeah. Math.
So after I ate lunch and passed out I began studying for a math test that could presumably be passed by the average sixth grader. I’m screwed. I am going to have to study for this bitch and I’m going to have to take it on Tuesday. School in the middle of your life can be truly humiliating. The only thing worse would be me waiting tables at a Denny’s in my sixties, wearing support hose and nurse shoes, calling everyone honey and complaining about my sciatica. Whatever the hell that is.
So I guess I’ll take off my pants and go study. Fear is an awesome motivator isn’t it?