Chomp.

That would be the sound of my sleeping through a semester of psych stats coming back to bite me in the ass.
It's not like I tried to sleep through it. I'd come to class at nine a.m. twice a week like a dutiful college student, take my seat towards the back of the (surprisingly warm and cozy)classroom, and listen to a lecture about population variance that quickly became little more than a wave of ambient sound, drifting blissfully past my ears. I didn't like the dreams I had in psych stats. I'd be on the beach with a gorgeous guy, and all of a sudden he'd start talking about percentages. I'd wake up annoyed, attempting to focus my half-open eyes on the chalkboard and the equations that had so rudely interrupted my slumber. S squared 1 minus S squared 2 divided by the degrees of freedom equals...ooh, look, a starfish...
All this hardly left me qualified to say to my professor, "Yeah, I took psych stats, so I'll be able to analyze all this data, no problem." But I said it anyway. Now I have about a week to deliver. And I'm starting to wonder if regression hypnosis would work.