CR2K6
The quality of a law school is inversely proportional to the thickness of its viewbook. Stanford's is, like, fo' real, two pages. Bob Jones Skewl of da Law is the War and Peace of viewbooks.
Chorale retreat is tomorrow, and I can safely say that if I ever again have to organize a carpool for 65 people, I will pay someone $50.45 to chuck a throwing star right at my jugular. I'm sort of excited for retreat itself, though. I have too much work to go, and I'm not really looking forward to six hours of rehearsal, but lawd knows I love skits and food served from 8-gallon buckets.
What the fuck. Livejournal won't let you highlight shit any more. Spellcheck says that "livejournal" is not a word and suggests I replace it with "lovingly." Lovingly won't let you highlight shit any more. Spellcheck suggests that I replace "spellcheck" with "sepulcher." That's just retarded, and by "retarded," I mean, "they can do anything."
I'm actually starting to like literary theory. It's so utterly useless, yet I feel really compelled to argue about it heatedly. That could also be because there's this one moron in the class who's always contradicting what everyone else says. Today, the teacher asked us to rank the following professions in order of social classification: janitor, nurse, professor, doctor, engineer, architect. I said that I'd put the janitor lowest. This bitch is all, "Actually, the janitor should probably be highest, because it's the most important. If it weren't for janitors, we'd all be sick, and there would be garbage everywhere." Bitch! What the hell did you not understand about ranking them in order by social classification? Are you seriously telling me that I'm wrong that janitors are societally interpreted to be the lowest profession on the list? This isn't a fucking janitor's union meeting; this is a class, and it's called Shut-The-Fuck-Up 101. God I love literary theory.
I seem really angry, but I'm not. I am sleepy, though. Ok, I am a little angry, because there is a booming bass rocking my skull, and it appears to be coming from upstairs. I'ma go call the cops and then hit the hay. Peace.
Chorale retreat is tomorrow, and I can safely say that if I ever again have to organize a carpool for 65 people, I will pay someone $50.45 to chuck a throwing star right at my jugular. I'm sort of excited for retreat itself, though. I have too much work to go, and I'm not really looking forward to six hours of rehearsal, but lawd knows I love skits and food served from 8-gallon buckets.
What the fuck. Livejournal won't let you highlight shit any more. Spellcheck says that "livejournal" is not a word and suggests I replace it with "lovingly." Lovingly won't let you highlight shit any more. Spellcheck suggests that I replace "spellcheck" with "sepulcher." That's just retarded, and by "retarded," I mean, "they can do anything."
I'm actually starting to like literary theory. It's so utterly useless, yet I feel really compelled to argue about it heatedly. That could also be because there's this one moron in the class who's always contradicting what everyone else says. Today, the teacher asked us to rank the following professions in order of social classification: janitor, nurse, professor, doctor, engineer, architect. I said that I'd put the janitor lowest. This bitch is all, "Actually, the janitor should probably be highest, because it's the most important. If it weren't for janitors, we'd all be sick, and there would be garbage everywhere." Bitch! What the hell did you not understand about ranking them in order by social classification? Are you seriously telling me that I'm wrong that janitors are societally interpreted to be the lowest profession on the list? This isn't a fucking janitor's union meeting; this is a class, and it's called Shut-The-Fuck-Up 101. God I love literary theory.
I seem really angry, but I'm not. I am sleepy, though. Ok, I am a little angry, because there is a booming bass rocking my skull, and it appears to be coming from upstairs. I'ma go call the cops and then hit the hay. Peace.