Can't fucking win.
I can't win. I just can not fucking win.
As I've already extrapolated, my academic life is turning into hell. March has kicked me in the ass already, and will continue to do so, I'm sure. I've got a Theatre mid term tomorrow afternoon, 9:30 class to start and French. A quiz, and a chapter's worth of online work is due tomorrow night. So I'm studying, Steph is watching the After the Final Rose After The Final Rose Part three hundred and fourteen paragraph VIII of the Bachelor and she says she's gonna work out after.
A run would be nice, methinks. So I agree to go with her. I manage to run 3.5 miles on the elliptical in 33 minutes, and I ran a mile in about 10.5 min, so I'm feeling pretty good about myself. As we're leaving my RLC Amy calls and asks if I'm in the building. I respond no.
Turns out there was a leak in the bathroom and the shower backed up so water flooded into my room. Not the room directly across from the fucking bathroom. Not the room next to ours. No. My room. Our room, me and Steph. Because the one time I decide to go with her, it's late and water slide sunder the door all the way into my closet, soaking MY freshly luandered clothes, MY forty dollar Nike soccer backpack, under MY desk and into MY comforter. If not for the two rugs Steph contributed to the room, my GH guitars would be nice and ruined too. And apparently the water slid to the 'right'-- into my side of the room. Most of Steph's stuff was fine.
I have shit all over my bed, clothes I can't dry because the fucking LAUNDRY ROOM IS HAVING A SMALL LOCALIZED RAINSTORM. Oh yeah, didn't I mention? It's 'rainin' in the the stairwell and into the laundry room where tiles are collapsing and falling sopping wet onto the ground willy nilly. I have nowhere to hang my wet clothes. No where to put them. Not enough towels to dry all the stuff. and it's starting to smell. fuck capitalization, fuck my fucking fucked up can't catch one god damn mother fucking break life fuck every fucking god damn thing I just wanted to study for my fucking mid term and go to bed before three am but fuking NO. it's NOT FUCKING POSSIBLE, IS IT?!
There aren't enough expletives in the English language to satisfy my frustration. I'm so done with this shit.
I'm staring at shit all over my bed, on my floor, there's a bunch of my crap in the hallway being blown on by a huge loud fan. I haven't even studied that much. It's now 1:30. I'm so... I can't even. My calendar was ruined, and so was my PS2 box. Now I have nothing to carry my gamer stuff in... I don't even... So tired. Reading other people's woes on fmylife made me feel marginally better, but the mildew smell is starting to pervade and it doesn't help that I'm really hungry. And was up late last night with work/ Day of Honor was on and you know how I am about my Voyager.
My fingers are pruny from wringing out dripping, soaking wet clothing. I just have to pray that they'll be okay over night. I seriously want to cry right now but my eyes are dry and scratchy. I've got nothing left. It's just minor setback after major set back after crappy holiday after a month full of hell after missing birthdays and things being out of convenience. I'm just so tired of it all. I want to curl up in my bed and see my best friend and let my mom take care of me. But I'm a month and 300 miles away and six months too late to be that immature. I AM SO FUCKING TIRED. I could sleep for days. I wish I could sleep for days. I try to cry and there's nothing but a hurt in my chest. Can't even have a breakdown when I'm feeling this bad. Wonderful.
As great as 2008 was, 2009 sucks fucking balls right now (and has done for the past two months).
As I've already extrapolated, my academic life is turning into hell. March has kicked me in the ass already, and will continue to do so, I'm sure. I've got a Theatre mid term tomorrow afternoon, 9:30 class to start and French. A quiz, and a chapter's worth of online work is due tomorrow night. So I'm studying, Steph is watching the After the Final Rose After The Final Rose Part three hundred and fourteen paragraph VIII of the Bachelor and she says she's gonna work out after.
A run would be nice, methinks. So I agree to go with her. I manage to run 3.5 miles on the elliptical in 33 minutes, and I ran a mile in about 10.5 min, so I'm feeling pretty good about myself. As we're leaving my RLC Amy calls and asks if I'm in the building. I respond no.
Turns out there was a leak in the bathroom and the shower backed up so water flooded into my room. Not the room directly across from the fucking bathroom. Not the room next to ours. No. My room. Our room, me and Steph. Because the one time I decide to go with her, it's late and water slide sunder the door all the way into my closet, soaking MY freshly luandered clothes, MY forty dollar Nike soccer backpack, under MY desk and into MY comforter. If not for the two rugs Steph contributed to the room, my GH guitars would be nice and ruined too. And apparently the water slid to the 'right'-- into my side of the room. Most of Steph's stuff was fine.
I have shit all over my bed, clothes I can't dry because the fucking LAUNDRY ROOM IS HAVING A SMALL LOCALIZED RAINSTORM. Oh yeah, didn't I mention? It's 'rainin' in the the stairwell and into the laundry room where tiles are collapsing and falling sopping wet onto the ground willy nilly. I have nowhere to hang my wet clothes. No where to put them. Not enough towels to dry all the stuff. and it's starting to smell. fuck capitalization, fuck my fucking fucked up can't catch one god damn mother fucking break life fuck every fucking god damn thing I just wanted to study for my fucking mid term and go to bed before three am but fuking NO. it's NOT FUCKING POSSIBLE, IS IT?!
There aren't enough expletives in the English language to satisfy my frustration. I'm so done with this shit.
I'm staring at shit all over my bed, on my floor, there's a bunch of my crap in the hallway being blown on by a huge loud fan. I haven't even studied that much. It's now 1:30. I'm so... I can't even. My calendar was ruined, and so was my PS2 box. Now I have nothing to carry my gamer stuff in... I don't even... So tired. Reading other people's woes on fmylife made me feel marginally better, but the mildew smell is starting to pervade and it doesn't help that I'm really hungry. And was up late last night with work/ Day of Honor was on and you know how I am about my Voyager.
My fingers are pruny from wringing out dripping, soaking wet clothing. I just have to pray that they'll be okay over night. I seriously want to cry right now but my eyes are dry and scratchy. I've got nothing left. It's just minor setback after major set back after crappy holiday after a month full of hell after missing birthdays and things being out of convenience. I'm just so tired of it all. I want to curl up in my bed and see my best friend and let my mom take care of me. But I'm a month and 300 miles away and six months too late to be that immature. I AM SO FUCKING TIRED. I could sleep for days. I wish I could sleep for days. I try to cry and there's nothing but a hurt in my chest. Can't even have a breakdown when I'm feeling this bad. Wonderful.
As great as 2008 was, 2009 sucks fucking balls right now (and has done for the past two months).