Suicidal Snowflakes

Just because I have a short attention span doesn\’t mean I…


Life is better when you remember to take your add/depression meds every day. The beginning part of this week was kind of hairy. Of course, sleep deprivation also makes the “I hate myself and I want to die” part of me flair up pretty good, and I’ve not been getting full nights’ sleep every night this week. Eventually I hit a point by day two or three where the old habit from college kicks in (I did 188.5 credits in 3 years–sleep was a luxury I couldn’t afford), and my body automatically only permits me to sleep 4 hrs a night. I can usually do that for a week or two before I crash. Usually by the beginning of week 2 I hate myself and I wanna die, but it takes me a little longer than that to a) determine that sleep deprivation is why I hate myself and I wanna die, and b) become exhausted enough that even a nap is possible.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is, even though I’m a horrible person and I’m going to hell for not doing my homework, I feel better about it? On a seperate note… I think I’m doing something wrong in my digital libraries class, it’s waaaay too fricking easy. Of course, I haven’t actually gotten a grade on any of my work, or feedback, so I could find out I’m failing miserably. It could just be part of the larger conspiracy against me… Oh yeah, and BTW… “team teachers” of Intro to Info, a grade on my second paper before I write my fourth paper would be nice. This way I know I’m on the right track. Thanks.

There was something actually important that I wanted to blog about, but I can’t remember what it is. Oh well. I have all these brilliant ideas for blog entries–sometimes I even jot them in the little notepad I keep in my purse, but they never make it to the interweb.

Like this bit of stuff that pisses me off:

Whenever I go up to see James for dinner, and his dinner is at 5:30, if I don’t leave at like 5:28 and shoot up the hill before the ‘quittin time’ whistle blows, I’m doomed. And usually, I’m pretty damned doomed. Usually I can’t get out of my office till 5:33 or so, becaues I inevidably end up taking that one last phone call before lunch, so all the assclowns he works with come rushing out of the building like a herd of fricking cattle and walk right in front of you. They do that IN the parking lot, though. You have to get through the sea of people cutting the corners WAY to loose and going all the way into the other lane… y’know THE LANE I HAPPEN TO BE IN… in their exuberance to rush the hell out of the parking lot at 50mph, traffic laws and the safty of others be damned.

There’s this one coal colored car that nearly runs into me every fricking day. The guy turns the bend and is usually coming straight for me as I reach the top of the hill. Total spazoid who gets mad at YOU for being in the lane he wants to be in with his big boat Lumina.

Well, I was coming up at about 5:45 for James’ slightly later than normal lunch, and I see one of those police sport utility vehicals at the top of the hill and I’m like… dude, it finally happened. Sure enough, I come around the bend and the Lumina has nailed this white car so hard the white car’s front left tire and wheel are now perpendicular to the vehical, the front left side is all smashed in like crushed mummy skull, and the Lumina looks like it lost the pissing match to the little boxy white Toyota. The tire was flat, the wheel was on the ground flat, it must have been a spectacular accident. He probably clipped the guy going 50, jumped the bumper and made it on top of the hood before the impact pushed him away.

15 minutes ealier, that would have been me. Half an hour after I arrived at the top of the hill, James’ lunch was over, and the cops were STILL talking to the guy with the grey car. I hoped they arrested his ass, or finded him heavily or something. People who drive like assholes should be punished. Somehow I was too busy to blog about that.


What else? Hm…

  • No, that other thing actually made it out of the notepad, but that’s only because I tore the sheets out and took them in out of the car. It turned into that really long, bad poem. Well, it might not have been REALLY long, but it certainly was bad (is there any other kind?).
  • Uh… Bizzaro am happy to talk like Superman. Yeah. I learned how to speak Bizzaro this week. Not really sure what brought it on. I always wanted to be competent and un-lysdexic enough to be able to speak pig-latin without hardship (meaning… without writing out everything I wanna say first) not because I think it’d make me some great linguist or anything (I only passed german III because I wore skirts on the days of the vocabulary quizzes and wrote the answers on my legs), but because I can’t seem to do it. Like math, pig latin is a door that is closed to me. I may have to settle for Bizzaro-talk.
  • There continue to be no cats in America.
  • Ted’s spoon ran away with my salad fork for the weekend, and my salad fork came back knocked-up and with genital herpies around it’s prongs. Ted’s spoon is a dirty, dirty player. I also heard a rumor it snorts mint Lifesaver dust off hooker’s asses. Ted, your spoon used and abused my salad fork and left my wire wisk to pick up all the pieces.
  • I’m not doing my homework right now. Suck it.

Isn’t color coating gratuitious but cool??


June 24, 2005 - Posted by | Food

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