Damn finals. Damn, dirty finals.
My favorite part about finals is that they are OVER. And the past week of suckage can fade and join all the other memories of past test-cramming suckage I've accumulated over my lifetime of school attendance. And I can now stop feeling so sorry for myself and lamenting my fate in loud, piercing wails.
Naw, I'm kidding.
I'm only whiny in this blog.
The rest of the time, my self-pity manifests itself in playing dress-up, as it should with any good lover of costumes and fashion. Of course, I can't wear a crinoline to school...but my creative spirit has found the most socially acceptable loop-hole to satisfy my unique way of celebrating my deep-seated dissatisfaction with how school has forced me spend my leisure time:
I am currently wearing enough eye make-up to grout a shower.
Naw, I'm kidding.
I'm only whiny in this blog.
The rest of the time, my self-pity manifests itself in playing dress-up, as it should with any good lover of costumes and fashion. Of course, I can't wear a crinoline to school...but my creative spirit has found the most socially acceptable loop-hole to satisfy my unique way of celebrating my deep-seated dissatisfaction with how school has forced me spend my leisure time:
I am currently wearing enough eye make-up to grout a shower.