Well done, Dr. Moroni.
Yesterday was Dennis' viva (that's the word we use to refer to the thesis examination in the UK, from the latin Viva Voce). Yes, Mr. Dennis Moroni is now Dr. Dennis Moroni.
I told him I might comment on it on my blog and he suggested me to write it in english so he can read what sort of crap I say about him.
No worries, my man. There you go.
I popped in the lab in the morning, just to check that Dennis was mentally stable. He was not. He was talking rubbish all along the way. Man, how much bullshit can a mouth release in a matter of seconds. Well, I guess it's normal for a person under those circumstances to just talk stupid.
But then, I told him, what's the worst thing that could happen to you? That you fail? The nine-hours viva? That you will be pushed against the wall and get screwed in turn by the examiners? Hey, you might enjoy it! No, seriously. I think the day after the viva you are as clever (or as dumb) as the day before. Only with three more letters to add to your name.
After the event there was the usual meeting in the common room to celebrate. Champagne bottles kept appearing from God knows where. I was fearing there would be none left for my Monday celebration. Dennis told me later that his examiner started off the examination by saying: "Ok, your thesis is fine. You have no major corrections to make, so we have to somehow make up the viva". That's pretty reassuring. I imagined that I would be nicely relaxed for the whole of the examination after listening to such a nice statement. But, in contrast, I had a mental picture of my external examiner, Professor Pickett, telling me: "Well, we read your thesis and it's absolutely hopeless. So you better perform now like a fucking genius if you want to get something similar to a degree out of this meeting". Ouch. That's gotta hurt.
Dammit! I'm happy for Dennis and absolutely terrified for myself. Why should I? Dennis was asking me physics questions up to two hours before his viva. Hell, do I know more physics that he does? Probably... But then again, the guy is so lucky. He's the luckiest bastard over the face of this rotten world. I'm sure I'll be asked "What did you do to your samples to get the data?" and... I'll go blank. Just simply, plain blank. "Uh, oh... Sorry, say again?"
Dennis, man, what do you reckon? Do I have what it takes? After all, you've gone through the process, you should know it.
Anyway, I'm so glad you made it. We started our Ph. D. on the same week, you remember? And then we are going to finish it (hopefully) with a difference of 4 kilominutes. The timing was just about perfect, wasn't it?
You deserved it, Dennis. You worked hard. Well done, mate.
You DA MAN!!!
I told him I might comment on it on my blog and he suggested me to write it in english so he can read what sort of crap I say about him.
No worries, my man. There you go.
I popped in the lab in the morning, just to check that Dennis was mentally stable. He was not. He was talking rubbish all along the way. Man, how much bullshit can a mouth release in a matter of seconds. Well, I guess it's normal for a person under those circumstances to just talk stupid.
But then, I told him, what's the worst thing that could happen to you? That you fail? The nine-hours viva? That you will be pushed against the wall and get screwed in turn by the examiners? Hey, you might enjoy it! No, seriously. I think the day after the viva you are as clever (or as dumb) as the day before. Only with three more letters to add to your name.
After the event there was the usual meeting in the common room to celebrate. Champagne bottles kept appearing from God knows where. I was fearing there would be none left for my Monday celebration. Dennis told me later that his examiner started off the examination by saying: "Ok, your thesis is fine. You have no major corrections to make, so we have to somehow make up the viva". That's pretty reassuring. I imagined that I would be nicely relaxed for the whole of the examination after listening to such a nice statement. But, in contrast, I had a mental picture of my external examiner, Professor Pickett, telling me: "Well, we read your thesis and it's absolutely hopeless. So you better perform now like a fucking genius if you want to get something similar to a degree out of this meeting". Ouch. That's gotta hurt.
Dammit! I'm happy for Dennis and absolutely terrified for myself. Why should I? Dennis was asking me physics questions up to two hours before his viva. Hell, do I know more physics that he does? Probably... But then again, the guy is so lucky. He's the luckiest bastard over the face of this rotten world. I'm sure I'll be asked "What did you do to your samples to get the data?" and... I'll go blank. Just simply, plain blank. "Uh, oh... Sorry, say again?"
Dennis, man, what do you reckon? Do I have what it takes? After all, you've gone through the process, you should know it.
Anyway, I'm so glad you made it. We started our Ph. D. on the same week, you remember? And then we are going to finish it (hopefully) with a difference of 4 kilominutes. The timing was just about perfect, wasn't it?
You deserved it, Dennis. You worked hard. Well done, mate.
You DA MAN!!!
Comentario:
Hey, what the fuck do you mean you know more physics than I do?
And... by the way, your english just sucks. lol.
Chill out, mate. You're gonna be fine.
All the best for Monday. We'll get pissed after the "event". ;)
And... by the way, your english just sucks. lol.
Chill out, mate. You're gonna be fine.
All the best for Monday. We'll get pissed after the "event". ;)