(no subject)
I've been sick for like a week and a half, but not so bad anymore. Stupid Bard Pox. The whole campus is like a giant incubator for germs.
My car has been acting up less frequently lately which I appreciate, but my grandpa just came to pick it up and take it to his mechanic. I hope it's not a huge repair job. It doesn't stall or rumble anymore, maybe the fuel injector cleaner worked? It still makes a weird grinding noise, or a noise like there's something dragging on the ground, but there totally isn't. I hate cars. I love my car.
This morning in my sleep-deprived state at 8:45, I went to get my car out to drive to Alexander Technique which I kind of like, but would like a lot more if it weren't so damn early and on the other side of campus. Due to inadequate plowing and some guy being an asshole, there was a minivan parked behind me making it hard to get out of the spot, and in trying not to hit the minivan behind me, my front bumper scraped the door of a Prius next to me. I felt like such a dumbass, I never do shit like that. I left a note with my name and number on it. I hope they don't care and don't make me pay, or recognize my poor, decrepit self/car from West Germany when the Communist Block still existed/clothing I've been wearing since tenth grade (every time I put my pea coat on, something in it rips a little more), and take pity on me. At the very least I hope the owner's not a dick about it. I left a note, goddamnit, that makes me a good person. Find me another Bard driver who would have left a note. I REST MY CASE. But then this awesomely nice B&G guy helped me get my car out of the space. He ruled, I hope he wins the lotto today. Or gets some free coffee or both or something.
I still have a crush on a dude who's way the fuck out of my league. I've been feeling pretty good about myself, good meaning "mildly foxy but mostly fat and sassy" but I haven't been feeling good enough to get that. I mean, that is FINE. DAMN FINE. Seriously if he were like "I don't date smokers" I'd be like "DAMN WELL I QUIT JUST NOW WHEN YOU SAID THAT. Now I'm a nonsmoker. Let's get bizzay!" I feel kind of like a cave troll next to him. But with any luck, all the planets will align (plus Pluto, poor little demoted chunk of ice and rock, I still love you) and there'll be an eclipse and a very small meteor will hit him in the head and he'll be won over by my sparkling wit/charming personality/lack of qualms about acting ridiculous and making unattractive faces for laughs/shit tons of mad writing skillz (not evident in my livejournal entries, because duh)/level-headedness in case of freak meteor-related head injuries/strong haunches which allow me to carry grown men on my back for long distances.
My car has been acting up less frequently lately which I appreciate, but my grandpa just came to pick it up and take it to his mechanic. I hope it's not a huge repair job. It doesn't stall or rumble anymore, maybe the fuel injector cleaner worked? It still makes a weird grinding noise, or a noise like there's something dragging on the ground, but there totally isn't. I hate cars. I love my car.
This morning in my sleep-deprived state at 8:45, I went to get my car out to drive to Alexander Technique which I kind of like, but would like a lot more if it weren't so damn early and on the other side of campus. Due to inadequate plowing and some guy being an asshole, there was a minivan parked behind me making it hard to get out of the spot, and in trying not to hit the minivan behind me, my front bumper scraped the door of a Prius next to me. I felt like such a dumbass, I never do shit like that. I left a note with my name and number on it. I hope they don't care and don't make me pay, or recognize my poor, decrepit self/car from West Germany when the Communist Block still existed/clothing I've been wearing since tenth grade (every time I put my pea coat on, something in it rips a little more), and take pity on me. At the very least I hope the owner's not a dick about it. I left a note, goddamnit, that makes me a good person. Find me another Bard driver who would have left a note. I REST MY CASE. But then this awesomely nice B&G guy helped me get my car out of the space. He ruled, I hope he wins the lotto today. Or gets some free coffee or both or something.
I still have a crush on a dude who's way the fuck out of my league. I've been feeling pretty good about myself, good meaning "mildly foxy but mostly fat and sassy" but I haven't been feeling good enough to get that. I mean, that is FINE. DAMN FINE. Seriously if he were like "I don't date smokers" I'd be like "DAMN WELL I QUIT JUST NOW WHEN YOU SAID THAT. Now I'm a nonsmoker. Let's get bizzay!" I feel kind of like a cave troll next to him. But with any luck, all the planets will align (plus Pluto, poor little demoted chunk of ice and rock, I still love you) and there'll be an eclipse and a very small meteor will hit him in the head and he'll be won over by my sparkling wit/charming personality/lack of qualms about acting ridiculous and making unattractive faces for laughs/shit tons of mad writing skillz (not evident in my livejournal entries, because duh)/level-headedness in case of freak meteor-related head injuries/strong haunches which allow me to carry grown men on my back for long distances.