Canadian Schooling? Don't mind if I do!

I would like to kick this entry off by stating the simple but universal fact that Standardized Testing sucks ass. If I am going to university and taking no math courses, why does my ability in math decide half of my SAT score? Why do I have to write an essay that doesn’t even count, and why is my future decided by a test that rather than testing your intelligence, tests the amount that you have studied for it? The following entry is the rather uneventful story that led to that hateful diatribe regarding the Standardized Aptitude Tests. You may not like it, because I’ve been hearing bad things about the quality of my blogs recently, however I write these for me, and I’ve still been enjoying them, so fuck all of you. My SAT’s were scheduled for Saturday (the 28th), so here’s is the summary of my SAT’s, starting from Friday night.

5:00 p.m: Make the bold decision that now, about 12 hours before the SATs, is the time I should start studying.
5:20 p.m: Watch South Park
8:00 p.m: Go out for Greek Food
9:15 p.m: Get home. Continue watching South Park.
10:30 p.m: Study for SATs (really!)
3:30 a.m: Stop studying for SATs, but stay awake
3:30 a.m - 5:30 a.m: Be an insightful and intelligent humanitarian, contemplating the condition the world is in, my place in it, and how I can really make a difference
5:30 a.m: Watch midget porn
6:30 - 7:00 a.m: Get fuel, extra large coffee, and head down to U of T, for SATs
7:00 - 7:45: Listen to ‘My Humps’ from Black Eyed Peas, and “When the Night Fuels my Song” by Bedouin Soundclash, on every goddamm radio station. Look for instruments sharp enough to kill myself.
7:45: Enter SAT building, make the natural assumption that I’m better than everybody else there, and head to the room that my SAT is in. I realize that I am the first one to head to the room, and take pride in my initiative. I soon realized I was going in the wrong direction, turned around, and followed the crowd.
7:55 - 9:15:Wait for the tests to start. The building was like a maze, and the SAT’s were split into three groups. SAT1, SAT2, and something I couldn’t pronounce. I was there for the SAT’s, that’s the extent of my knowledge. I guess SAT2, and wait outside the classroom. For some reason everybody thought I knew what was going on and asked me if they were in the right place, how to get to ____ room, e.t.c. It was like I had was standing in front of a giant map, and my shirt said ‘You Are Here.’ Maybe they just assumed I worked there because I was the only white person there.
8:30: Somewhere in the above section my bowels decided to go for a run, and I remembered that drinking a cup of coffee for me was like having a bottle of laxatives and washing it down with some beans.
9:15 - 9:40: Essay portion of the test. I ignore the suggested topic, and write about what I feel like writing about. Halfway through I decide this is a bad idea, and I change topics midsentence, and finish the essay.
9:40: Stomach gurgles, and I stain my underpants just a little bit.
9:41 - 11: Math portion of the test. Look of confusion on my face, pencils chewed to shreds, lots and LOTS of guessing.
11: Break time. I have yet to eaten anything so I eat the snack I packed for myself, a bran bar. This does not help my current diarrhea dilemma. I decide that the 5 minute break is not long enough to release the demon inside of me, or to clean up the following mess. I pray for the strength to hold it in, or at least a colostomy bag (I just looked this up in the dictionary to make sure I spelled it right. The definition alone made me crack up… hehe, anus).
11:05-2: English portion of the test. Much easier than math. I finish the grammar section, with ease, and to celebrate my stomach lets out another murmur. My face scrunches up as I suck in like a woman not ready for a baby, giving birth. After that was the sight passage section. This is where you read story, then answer multiple choice questions based on the passage, then repeat this process about a billion times. I decided that we are not given enough time to both read the passage and answer the questions, so I don’t read anything. This turns out to be a wise decision because those questions were hard! With all the leftover time I had, I read the passages, some of which were actually quite interesting. It should be noted that I answered every question, which you are NOT supposed to do, but I’m a rebel. Maybe they’ll give me a good mark simply based on guts, and the hilarity of my answers. Maybe not.
2-3: Drive home, excrement still inside me, because I’m constipated by this point
3: Arrive at my house. Dad and Stepmom ask me how it went, and running to the bathroom, I reply “Good.” I’m full of shit.
3:01 - 4:15: The most glorious, orgasmic poo of my life. It was like turning a fountain upside down, and the sticking it in my ass, and having the fountain shoot out of my butt hole into the toilet. It was one of those shits that are fully liquid and shoot out of your ass with such brute force that when it makes contact with the toilet water it makes a little liquid explotion, splashing old toilet water and wet fesces all over your ass, and the toilet bowl, with a bit dripping down the side off the toilet, and little poo stains on the wall. You know those poos, that you wipe for a half hour, but then still have to take a shower after because you can’t the fesces off your pubes and the bottom of your balls? No? Oh…. Neither do I, but I would assume it would be very similar to this instance.

Why do all my stories come back to poo? Is that normal? Don’t answer that, it was a rhetorical question. I seriously considered just going to sleep and sleeping through the SAT’s, just so I would have a funny blog to write, but decided against it. Who knows, maybe the marking machine will break, and I’ll do amazing, but realistically I think it’s safe to say that I’ll be spending the next 4 years right here in Canada.