I fell down today while walking to class. The icy tundra of a sidewalk finally got me, and it got me good. Not only did I wipe out on the ice, but I wiped out in front of a busy intersection where a dozen people saw me. My knees hurt, my hands hurt, and my dignity is hurt.
I’m over it.
I dominated my first final today like Kehly in a pie-eating contest. It was a breeze.
Not only did I get the exact question that I had hoped for, but I completed it in record time, and not once did I begin to write downhill (line-less paper. You understand). I’m feeling pretty confident about receiving an A; about as confident as Kanye was at the VMA’s.
Don’t like the man. Never have.
…I still hate Tyra Banks more though. Exponentially so.
I am officially done with Cultural Historical and Creative Non-Fiction writing for the term. No more class, tests, assignments; FEELS GOOOOD. However I now have two papers to complete for Sex and Pop Culture which are due Monday, one of which I have to read an entire book for. We’ll see how that pans out. Thursday = Survey of Film final. Another that is up in the air. TIME WILL TELL, FOLKS! Other than that, the itinerary goes as follows:
1:00-2:30 Bomb film final.
4:20-6:30 Pack my shit.
6:31-5 a.m. Drink. Heavily.
11:00 a.m. Wake up, break alarm clock, vomit over the side of my bed, swear at the ceiling. Pass out again.
12:00 p.m. Get up. Swallow 10-12 Advil.
12:02 p.m. Ask Kehly what happened.
12:30 p.m. Hit the open road. Council Bluffs ahoy, mateys!
1:42 p.m. Pull over to vomit out of driver’s side door.
I like the agenda.
“LLLLLLLLLLLET’S GET READY TO STUUUUMMMMBLE!!!”