1510

When I met Zuzu, eight years ago, she was desperate for information about me. She quizzed me on exes, and jobs, and family, and blah blah blah. She asked me about my SAT scores, and I told her the truth. I got a 1510 when I took my SATs as a sophomore. My guidance counselor tried to persuade me to start reading through old SATs to learn more about them, in the hopes that I would retake the test, and get a perfect 1600. But I knew that the 1510 was a fluke, and I staunchly refused to retake the test.

Zuzu's son, Lot, has recently taken the new SATs. There's a new scoring system now, but there's a way to average them out to figure out what your score would be if you took it under the old system. His score would have been a 1500.

Zuzu remarks how amazing this is, given the quality of education Lot's received in the public school system. He has revisionist history teachers who make up statistics to suit their needs, a calculus teacher who can't do simple addition, and an English teacher who confuses the words "alliteration" and "allusion", and talks about how one of her friends recently wrote a fantastic autobiography about William Shakespeare.

This leads to me ranting about the various stupid people I've recently encountered. I probably go on for about fifteen minutes listing mundane people I've encountered on the street, my landlady who frequently calls to remind me what her name is and that she's my landlady, and the various geniuses I've met through poetry who can't so much as operate velcro sneakers.

The three of us decide that we are much more intelligentier than your average humannoyed.

After dinner, I head to the local liquor store (all the non-local ones being so very far away), and ask the man behind the counter for a Jack Daniels, pointing in the whiskey's general direction.

He asks "Would you like a pint, or a half pint?"

To which I reply "Whichever is bigger."

I'm really glad I didn't retake my SAT.