I want a girl who laughs for no one else.

Ah, the enigmatic First Day of School.

Catching up with friends you haven’t seen in months, predicting your latest professor’s “quirks” (read: pyschoses), kicking freshmen, and coming into contact with an entirely new batch of people you will probably grow to despise over the next few months… Good times, good times. Day one, and I’ve already had a teacher talk extensively about ESP for no discernable reason before demanding that a student fill her water bottle for her and passing out a syllabus that forbids gum chewing


Whence cometh thee, foul bitterness? I know not.

And yet, this quarter (like all those before it, I suppose) has the faintest hope of being different. Therein lies the catch. That glimmering, distant possibility of dramatic change, improvement, or cataclysmic excellence bites me in the ass every time, and then never delivers.

I’m being blue-balled by destiny.
Fuck it.

All of the typical annoyances are still running wild. I’m sticking it to those pigfuckers at the bookstore this quarter, though, and ordering all my books via Half.com and saving about 200 bucks. Booya. My $90 English text? (yes, ninety dollars for an English book…) I found a used one for SIX FIFTY. Ten bucks with shipping. Who cares if it’s shipped by media mail, the slowest, most ludicrous form of shipping known to the western world? Media mail is basically the modern day equivalent of the Pony Express, except instead of ponies they use these six autistic paraplegics from the Czech Republic. I’ll bet those shady fuckers at Media Mail headquarters just dump a load of my text books into their grimy Czech backpacks, hand them a Mapquest printout and a box of saltines, and shove them out the door. They should call it something more appropriate than Media Mail, like Mediocre Mail or maybe Holyshitit’stheeighthweekwhereismygoddamntextbook Mail. Still, I’m sure I can find something productive to do with my time, like building a fort out of all the god damn money I saved, or baking. Yay for the internet.

So today I met this gorgeous girl in my Operating Systems class…


Raise your hand if you fell for it? Chump.

I did go to the gym today, with Sossegado the Immortal, and am consequently feeling like I got shot with a fully automatic beanbag gun for about twenty minutes. You’d think that an entire summer of sitting in front of a desk explaining how to organize a user’s Favorites over the phone would have left me in prime physical condition, but I guess it didn’t. Ah, the agonies I suffer to get better at capoeira.

I suppose I could keep writing, put down a few words about how the gym is shitty or making fun of some fat chick or something, but fuck it I’m beat. Before I leave you, though, here are a few points I’d like to make, sans commentary:

1) Chris’s bootsy ass 2.5 horsepower yellow scooter is fucking cool as shit and we should all get them and mob deep around town.

2) I don’t have class until 4:40 tomorrow so all you whorebags can be jealous that I’m out studying Beach Football With Amos 101 while you’re slaving away in a classroom. *scoff*

3) I still hate the President.



4) Go Raiders

That’s it.

Good fight, good night.


p.s. This thing’s spellchecker just offered me geophysicist and Bolshevik as possible correct spellings of Holyshitit’stheeighthweekwhereismygoddamntextbook. Haha.


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