... but square tires don't roll...

How long has it been since I’ve had time to actually post something on here? Jesus, I hate finals. Final anything just sounds bad- I think it must just be one of those words that’ll never make people think happy thoughts. Like “underage” or “fecal.” Or “Yankee.” I also have a bunch of horrible connotations related to anything involving the Deep South, but I blame that on having to sit through a semester’s worth of graphic racial violence and incest-y Southern communities where siblings have kids who then interbreed and make a bunch of dumpy midget-children who can’t even walk or open their eyes properly. For reals. In movie format. THERE ARE SOME THINGS YOU CAN’T UNSEE, PROFESSOR McRACIAL-TORTURE-PORN.

...

That got a bit ranty there. Sorry.

Where was I?

Oh yeah. Finals. They suck. Did I mention I have no time? I’ve got maybe a day and a half to learn a whole bunch of shit I should already know but hasn’t stuck because it’s boring  for some reason, and all I want to do is curl up and SLEEP and I fucking can’t until about Wednesday, because that’s probably when I’ll be home after all the packing up and cleaning that I’ve left till the last second, because apparently THAT’S JUST HOW I ROLL. LIKE A SQUARE FUCKING TIRE, THAT’S HOW I ROLL.

*ahem*

I’m not sure whether I need more caffeine or less.

Google ruined this post

Oh god, paaaaaaain.

Leg status= cramped and stiff, somewhat ruined in all joint-related areas. Whys the treadmill hates me? Whys? All I did was abuse it for roughly 28 km this week. I need to get used to this running shit. And stretch. And figure out what the hell kind of grudge my shoes have got against my feet. And stretch more. A lot more.. good lord. Why the fuck don't I stock Tylenol anywhere in this apartment?

Also, I think I'm developing an intense fear of Google. Every time I try to find a picture of something, it shows me a whole bunch of awful-looking shit that vaguely resembles people who've either fallen into a vat of acid or stepped on a land mine. Because that's really what I want to see at four in the morning. For serious. Any kind of body part, when googled, will give you about thirty pictures of said body part being mutilated in ways that hadn't even occured to me as being possible. That, or porn.

worst break-in ever

Y’know what I’m not a fan of?

*I'M A FIRE DRILL AND I'M GOING TO RING FOREVER*

Loud, piercing noises going off at thirty second intervals for no goddamn reason other than to make sure it’s loud enough to really blow out everyone’s eardrums.  For an hour and a half. I lost my liking for fire drills when it stopped being a legitimate excuse to miss a test, which was somewhere in middle school when things like that were a big deal. Now it’s just a reason to be herded out into the freezing outdoors at 4 in the morning when you’d bite the head off a small kitten to be back in your cozy nest of a bed. Not that I’ve had that thought...

And because I’m extra bitter and cranky now, I’m also just gonna throw it out there that if you think about it, fire drills could be a perfect excuse to work out whatever pyromaniac-urges you’ve been suppressing. I mean, the alarm’s already going off, right? Why not actually light something on fire? Everyone’s already worked up about it. It’s just convenient. Probably a bit of a kindness, too, since everyone will feel that their initial panic and rage over such a horrible shrieking sound was justified by things actually being on fire somewhere. It’s really just being considerate. And you thought I wasn’t a good person.

Of course, on no account should you mention any of this to the fire-maintenance people when they actually break into your apartment to check that your alarms are also capable of making shrieking noises. They really don’t have any sense of humour at all. They’re also very grumpy for people who are breaking into someone else’s apartment to stomp around in work boots for a bit. Honestly. If I was going to come in and wander around while someone was trying to do their homework, I’d at least be a bit more cheerful, or at least apologetic. “Sorry about completely destroying your sense of security. Nice bedsheets, by the way.” Something like that.

I am an oyster

It is way-too-fucking-late o’clock, and I am still writing *shit* for a class that I hate. It’s the same paper I’ve been writing for ages, and it’s going to be late anyway because apparently no one gives half an ass about Zulu beer pots. Except for some woman named Juliet Armstrong, who has an amazing talent for hiding every single piece of actual research she’s ever done (but does a great job of bragging about it on her spiffy little website). I only found a few actual sources a day or so ago, so I get maybe half a day to research, write, and hand in a research paper. I am not a homework ninja, okay? I am not even a homework karate kid. I’m a homework guy-who-gets-into-slapping-fights-with-other-guys. I am the homework equivalent of an oyster. IT TAKES ME A LONG TIME TO ACCOMPLISH SOMETHING, OKAY?!