LL#1: Papers Shtink

Alrighty, new feature here at the Doughty Traveler..."Life Lessons" from yours truly. Todays special should have arrived eight years ago:

Putting your papers off will make you hate your life.

At the very least, they'll make your emotional status an emotional rollercoaster.

You can add to that, as a bonus Life Lesson and no extra charge, vino (or any type of alcohol) will never make you less likely to actually finish a paper. Never. Ever. My current state (it just having passed midnight) is example enough, but this masterpiece from freshman year smashes the point home:

...

Oh hell, looks like we're having technical difficulties (read: I'm smashing my face into the wall until it's a bloody pulp because I've just discovered that my freshman year of college has disappeared from my computer which akin to having it erased from my memory). Suffice to say, an essay composed with the aid of extreme sleepiness and a dumpling of scotch produced two full pages of incoherent babble as I wandered in and out of consciousness, including the memorable phrase, "Trip...glider...hop." Taken independently, it seems innocent enough, just the insertion of "glider" between the common musical genre of "triphop." In the context of the two pages of nonsense that preceded it (which hung on the wall of my room for the remainder of that year), it was the metaphorical exclamation point at the conclusion of an all-caps, bolded sentence.