Too Hot To Trot.

3 Feb

Hi. How are things. Nice.

I find myself amongst dedicated and focused students in the ITC. I am fidgeting and tagging pictures and avoiding diving into my 6 page psychology paper that is due tomorrow that I’ve known about for 3 weeks but am starting today. ADHD!!!!!!!!!!!! Ironically, that’s what my paper is about. If I got paid to procrastinate, I’d be Donald Trump’s rival. If I got paid to eat, I’d still be poorer than Kehly.

Meanwhile, how about this weather, eh? I’m actually more partial to milder weather, however. I don’t like dealing with uncomfortably hot temperatures, and I’m embarrassed to say that this is honestly too warm for my liking, with the exception of if I was at a pool. Then again, at this point in my life, if I were to don a swimsuit, people would vomit on their pants and I would kill myself. Summer is looking to be my enemy this year for that reason, and the fact that my skin will instantly blister in the sun. I need SPF 500. Coppertone, don’t discriminate. On the other hand, I will undoubtedly be tanner than all of you fake bakers come summertime. I become afro amERicahn, so watch yourself.

I really want a Siberian Husky. It’s not even an option at this point. Unfortunately they shed profusely twice a year and are difficult to train. Oh well.

Anywho, finals are fast approaching. I just realized that I should have started studying for them probably last week. I have no motivation to better myself. I just sleep constantly. I only get up to eat. Then I go back to sleep. I’m a bear. This cleaning and packing fiasco in the dorms is going to be an obstacle that will be hard to tackle. I need to just set fire to my room. You know, remove the important articles such as DVDs and clothing, and then put ‘er up in flames. It’s the only way.

My nail polish seems to have exploded in my purse recently. Now every article inside has a pink flare to it. …That’s it really.

The other day in McDonald’s, Cole, Kehly, Marcus, Nick, Steve and I were enjoying our meals while I was in the middle of a story. A large, freakishly tall Amazon of a woman walks by, and mid-sentence, I blurt out, “Mooooooo.”

It was awful.

Then I stole a bouquet.

That is all.
“I’m not even sad!”


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