George wrote about his experience with the SAT, so I thought it was appropirate to tell my point of view.
So I got up twenty minutes before Dyke Ficus was going to pick me up. I got dressed with my Doo Dah Parade shirt and was ready to go. I plopped into Dyke's car and jetted away. We got to Monrovia High School and went through the wrong door, so we cut in line and were almost at the front. I was in a seperate room than Dyke and Butters because my actual last name starts with an "S." I waltzed into the room which was already half full. No one was talking! I thought I was on Marz. So, we started the test instructions and people kept coming in late. At first it was funny, then it wasn't. We started taking the actual test and it wasn't as bad as I thought. This one girl across from me kept petting her hair like an animal or something. Like it was her special kitten. I thought it was almost over at 11:30, but I was WRONG. We got released from the pen at 12:48 and thank the lord Jesus we did. If I had been in there a second longer, I would have melted. The SAT was not has bad as I thought it would be, but it was too long. I wouldn't have hated taking it again, but I'd rather not. Actually, in a way, it's therapeutic. All those bubbles, the one, whiny asian bitch who kept complaing about the heat, the random sneezes. It all was like one, giant coma. And, like waking up from a coma, I had to pee like Seabiscuit.
AND I DID.
- ▼ 2011 (35)