Fueled by rage and alcohol
You know, I'm not a heavy drinker, in terms of volume or frequency, and--unlike many college students--I don't think it's cool to brag about how wasted I got over the weekend, and how many different creative places I found to throw up. But, right now? I have to say, the main thought getting me through this one, last, godawful take-home final (for the morphology class from hell, what else?), is the massive amount of drinking that will commence tomorrow evening, when I get off from work. Some friends in the hall have been planning the bar they're going to set up, and let's just say it's going to be quite a party. If I haven't had at least a few Screaming Orgasms before the night is over, I will consider it a failure.
I can't even describe how frustrated I am with this final. I can describe only slightly better how much pain I was in for most of today. I had menstrual cramping which I'm pretty sure was actually a demon taking up residence in my womb (it's the day for it--Happy 06/06/06). It was the absolute worst I've had in months, possibly ever. I spent a lot of time in the bathroom, wondering which orifice was going to start gushing next. I sincerely wanted to die. Needless to say, I had to call in sick to work, and I didn't get much done on this [really awful expletive deleted] final. This is the only thing standing between me and summer vacation, and at this point I'm pretty much past caring about anything beyond getting a passing grade. This class can officially eat my shorts.
To sum up: I hate this final and I hate my uterus and my only comfort is knowing that by this time tomorrow night I will be drunk and getting drunker. A-FUCKING-MEN.
I can't even describe how frustrated I am with this final. I can describe only slightly better how much pain I was in for most of today. I had menstrual cramping which I'm pretty sure was actually a demon taking up residence in my womb (it's the day for it--Happy 06/06/06). It was the absolute worst I've had in months, possibly ever. I spent a lot of time in the bathroom, wondering which orifice was going to start gushing next. I sincerely wanted to die. Needless to say, I had to call in sick to work, and I didn't get much done on this [really awful expletive deleted] final. This is the only thing standing between me and summer vacation, and at this point I'm pretty much past caring about anything beyond getting a passing grade. This class can officially eat my shorts.
To sum up: I hate this final and I hate my uterus and my only comfort is knowing that by this time tomorrow night I will be drunk and getting drunker. A-FUCKING-MEN.