the past few days plus ranting!
An update! Wow!
Okay, so nine days isn't really 'a while', but I have some unexpected free time. So I update.
Sunday, December 4th:
10:48 p.m- Light's out.
10:49 p.m- Night of the Dry Skin begins. Everywhere itches. My hands, my back, my thighs, my head, everywhere.
10:49 p.m to God knows when- flop, flop, scratch, flop, flop, curse, flop, scratch, scratch, flop, zonk out
Monday, December 5th:
1:52 a.m- eyes sproing open, look around disoriented, zonk out
6:00 a.m- leave the comfort of my toasty bed, immediately regret it
(Let's end the time line, shall we?)
The heater in my room is a punk. It's gives heat for three minutes, goes 'Ha, ha Just Kidding!', and switches to AC. Needless to say, it's never on. Today's high was somewhere around 10 degrees F, and it was fra-eez-ing. It also snowed during the night. All through the day the snow made this gawd-awful nails- against styrofoam crunching noise, causing my skin to crawl in all sorts of directions. There was a new lecturer in psychology. He wore suspenders and a bow tie, and from the side looked... pregnant. He also put me into REM sleep.
Someone somewhere decided that the west bank of campus didn't need to be salted, and it is literally covered in ice, the walkway behind Anderson once again attempted to ground me, but I eluded it. You almost got me with the black ice at the end, but no I stayed upright. We shall meet again, old friend, the season is young. I had what was quite possibly the world's worst salad at lunch, as well as a stale piece of bread, a muffin, and chocolate comes-from-a-giant-jar salad bar pudding.
Tuesday, December 6th:
For lunch I had a protein bar. It tasted like nothing, and the texture got weirder the more I ate. To combat the funky aftertaste, I shoved a cereal bar down my mouth on my way to math. In my development class, my partner and I presented our powerpoint. It went well. and except for the computer changing all of our bullet points to little lambda signs (I.don't.know), without a hitch. And the best part is, it's done. The worst kind of powerpoint is one with information dense slides that the presenters read word for word. Sends my right eye twitching everytime. Later, I spilled laundry detergent all over my hands. And at dinner UDS had industrial strength mashed potatoes topped with shredded cheddar cheese. It's a heart attack on a plate.
Today I was in a good mood, but bitter. If that makes any sense.
At Tomato Nation, Ms. Bunting makes some damn funny posts (and is responsible for the near destruction of my keyboard in the form of hot chocolate sprayed out of mouth in mid-laugh). She makes her peeves known through the fine art of telling things to shut up.
Because I'm not feeling very creative or original, I shall present my peeves in the same manner:
Shut up, room heater. Thanks for making the spot I sit in the most often (my desk) the coldest in the room, by blowing out COLD air.
Shut up, bathroom heater. I don't know what law of physics makes all the hot air blow in a straight, one inch wide line, but stop it.
Shut up, Resnet. Thanks for causing a near panic attack, when you told me I wasn't authorized to use the network, and then went 'Whoops, my bad', here's the internet after i went to the gnarly computer lab.
Shut up, brain for not allowing me to form coherent speech all day.
Shut up, the person who used music room two. I couldn't decide if it was a saxophone or a piano, but either way it was pissing me off. It was too loud, 'clanky', annoying. (Although, at this point I was about ready to stab my sinuses with a bendy straw, so you shouldn't really shut up.)
Shut up, ice caked west bank.
Shut up, timpani player. The next time you smack the timpani, for the sake of smacking the timpani, when we're not playing, god help me, that mallet is getting lodged somewhere.
Shut up, right hand, not only for having a spazz attack and causing me to spill hot chocolate all over my coat, but doing it when I was a five minute walk from the nearest bathroom.
Shut up, laundry room. I'm tired of spending time in your overheated, overcrowded embrace week after week. I hate waiting 20 minutes for a washer, then having to stuff all my clothes into one washer, and praying all the colors don't run together. I also hate drying all my clothes in one dryer, not able to separate between 'shrink' and 'don't shrink', so everything is still damp 48 minutes later.
And shut up, piccolos because GOD, whoever decided that miniature flutes were a good idea needs to be shot.
I'm not making sense, time to stop.
Quote du Jour: (from Tomato Nation ) 'The list of things, people, and concepts that need to shut up before I hunt them down and hit them with a rake made of jalapenos and fire? Long.'
Okay, so nine days isn't really 'a while', but I have some unexpected free time. So I update.
Sunday, December 4th:
10:48 p.m- Light's out.
10:49 p.m- Night of the Dry Skin begins. Everywhere itches. My hands, my back, my thighs, my head, everywhere.
10:49 p.m to God knows when- flop, flop, scratch, flop, flop, curse, flop, scratch, scratch, flop, zonk out
Monday, December 5th:
1:52 a.m- eyes sproing open, look around disoriented, zonk out
6:00 a.m- leave the comfort of my toasty bed, immediately regret it
(Let's end the time line, shall we?)
The heater in my room is a punk. It's gives heat for three minutes, goes 'Ha, ha Just Kidding!', and switches to AC. Needless to say, it's never on. Today's high was somewhere around 10 degrees F, and it was fra-eez-ing. It also snowed during the night. All through the day the snow made this gawd-awful nails- against styrofoam crunching noise, causing my skin to crawl in all sorts of directions. There was a new lecturer in psychology. He wore suspenders and a bow tie, and from the side looked... pregnant. He also put me into REM sleep.
Someone somewhere decided that the west bank of campus didn't need to be salted, and it is literally covered in ice, the walkway behind Anderson once again attempted to ground me, but I eluded it. You almost got me with the black ice at the end, but no I stayed upright. We shall meet again, old friend, the season is young. I had what was quite possibly the world's worst salad at lunch, as well as a stale piece of bread, a muffin, and chocolate comes-from-a-giant-jar salad bar pudding.
Tuesday, December 6th:
For lunch I had a protein bar. It tasted like nothing, and the texture got weirder the more I ate. To combat the funky aftertaste, I shoved a cereal bar down my mouth on my way to math. In my development class, my partner and I presented our powerpoint. It went well. and except for the computer changing all of our bullet points to little lambda signs (I.don't.know), without a hitch. And the best part is, it's done. The worst kind of powerpoint is one with information dense slides that the presenters read word for word. Sends my right eye twitching everytime. Later, I spilled laundry detergent all over my hands. And at dinner UDS had industrial strength mashed potatoes topped with shredded cheddar cheese. It's a heart attack on a plate.
Today I was in a good mood, but bitter. If that makes any sense.
At Tomato Nation, Ms. Bunting makes some damn funny posts (and is responsible for the near destruction of my keyboard in the form of hot chocolate sprayed out of mouth in mid-laugh). She makes her peeves known through the fine art of telling things to shut up.
Because I'm not feeling very creative or original, I shall present my peeves in the same manner:
Shut up, room heater. Thanks for making the spot I sit in the most often (my desk) the coldest in the room, by blowing out COLD air.
Shut up, bathroom heater. I don't know what law of physics makes all the hot air blow in a straight, one inch wide line, but stop it.
Shut up, Resnet. Thanks for causing a near panic attack, when you told me I wasn't authorized to use the network, and then went 'Whoops, my bad', here's the internet after i went to the gnarly computer lab.
Shut up, brain for not allowing me to form coherent speech all day.
Shut up, the person who used music room two. I couldn't decide if it was a saxophone or a piano, but either way it was pissing me off. It was too loud, 'clanky', annoying. (Although, at this point I was about ready to stab my sinuses with a bendy straw, so you shouldn't really shut up.)
Shut up, ice caked west bank.
Shut up, timpani player. The next time you smack the timpani, for the sake of smacking the timpani, when we're not playing, god help me, that mallet is getting lodged somewhere.
Shut up, right hand, not only for having a spazz attack and causing me to spill hot chocolate all over my coat, but doing it when I was a five minute walk from the nearest bathroom.
Shut up, laundry room. I'm tired of spending time in your overheated, overcrowded embrace week after week. I hate waiting 20 minutes for a washer, then having to stuff all my clothes into one washer, and praying all the colors don't run together. I also hate drying all my clothes in one dryer, not able to separate between 'shrink' and 'don't shrink', so everything is still damp 48 minutes later.
And shut up, piccolos because GOD, whoever decided that miniature flutes were a good idea needs to be shot.
I'm not making sense, time to stop.
Quote du Jour: (from Tomato Nation ) 'The list of things, people, and concepts that need to shut up before I hunt them down and hit them with a rake made of jalapenos and fire? Long.'