March 05, 2003 :: 12:31 p.m.
and then comes the ketchup...
Gah. I'm so tired. There is no part of me that doesn't want to collapse onto the bed and sleep until Friday night. The lights were off during Visual Arts, because the professor was showing slides, and it took every ounce of the little energy I had left to keep from drooling all over my notebook. And I didn't even really succeed. Adam decided to just skip the movie tonight (
Apocalypse Now? I always get it wrong.) and rent it over break, because it's three hours long and I seriously do not think I'd be able to stay awake.
There's a new episode of Angel tonight, which is happy happy. Because... Faith! Mmm, Faith. Reformed, non-evil Faith, I'll grant you, but it matters not as long as she's wearing leather pants. Seriously, either leather pants were invented specifically for Eliza Dushku or she was just born to wear them.
Dammit. I have to pee in a very serious way, but the cleaning ladies are working their cleaning magic on the bathroom. Meeeer. I'm going to have to do Boo's potty dance soon.
I don't know why I even started this. I have nothing to say. I'm tired. I have to pee. I don't want to go to Global Pop. That's about it. I've been severely lacking in the witty entry department lately, I know. I apologize. It's just that steeping in the juices of hatred and despair for months at a time tends to ruin one's comedic outlook on life. And steeping is exactly what I've been doing here - not only do I absorb all the nastiness, but I sprout new nastiness of my very own every day. Like a demonic Chia Pet. But not the clown head ones, because those are just too frightening.
Emily will be back soon, with a styrofoam container full of french fries and god only knows what else. Something fried and stinky, no doubt. The stench will be too much for my delicate nostrils to deal with, and so I'll grab my bag and flee to the computer lab. I'm going to scan more stuff this afternoon, although I have no idea why. I scanned a bunch of things a few days ago and I still haven't posted them. Obviously. I keep meaning to, but it's such a pain in the ass.
Oh, I am so good. She just walked in with the damn french fries, and already my room smells like an entire McDonald's squeezed into a tiny cinderblock box. Very gross. She's also watching Jerry Springer, of course, because what goes better with terrible smells than even more terrible TV? Yeah, I'll be going now. Off to the relative comfort of the fry-free computer lab. Ciao.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005