UPDATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Haha@thetitleofthispost.
I am soooooo lazy. And to be honest, I don't think I want to write another paper in my life. To be even more honest, I'd be very much inclined to drop out of school if I wasn't going to Berkeley. Then again, the reason I may want to so badly drop out is because it's Berkeley. This place consumes you. It consumes you, makes you want to stuff knives up your ass, and then spits you out alive. And the worse thing is, you become one of them. One of these sad, study 90-hours-a-week kids, and you can't help it, because if you were to try and top these perfect students by studying only 88 hours a week, YOU'D BE DEEMED THE STUPIDEST PERSON ALIVE. I can't believe people have the will power to go to school here for their entire undergrad, some for eight years. The thought of being here for the next year and a half of my life is terrifying.
But, you know, maybe things get better and less competitive. NOT.
Back to lazy. For the past couple weeks, as a getaway from the thought of writing four papers in the next week, I have resorted to a pathetic amount of shopping and, well, sleeping. Yes, I've been getting eight hours every night. And no, I don't wish I'd spent those hours studying. The shopping, well, there has been lots of that. Online, window, an obsession with finding more Citizens jeans at half off, dvds and books, impulse buying at the first touch of a gorgeous light heather gray wool coat, yes. All of it. And more, because my roommate just got me a job at Sur La Table, the greatest store in the world. Whenever I'm there, I buy something impulsively with my discount, things no one needs, like a cupcake tree, or a potato ricer, or ANOTHER Le Creuset casserole oven. But, oh, the 40% discount that will undoubtedly give me the means for all my Christmas gifts. That's glorious.
I love that it is the middle of November and I look up and see a gorgeous blue sky. What a pick-me-up.
Oh, right. And yesterday morning, some moron upstairs managed to poop a possum, thus causing his toilet to overflow, in turn causing our bathroom walls and kitchen cabinets to leak. We ended up, within the span of, say, fifteen seconds, an inch of water on our bathroom floor, water bubbles in the walls, and water dripping in our kitchen cabinets. Poop water. Filthy, poop-infested water in my kitchen and everywhere in my bathroom. Is it appropriate to leave a note on his front door requesting that the next time he decides to consume an entire side of beef and pop a squat he PAY HEED TO THE MERCY FLUSH? Because I think it's totally appropriate, considering my kitchen now smells like day-old poop water mixed with disintegrating wood.
I am soooooo lazy. And to be honest, I don't think I want to write another paper in my life. To be even more honest, I'd be very much inclined to drop out of school if I wasn't going to Berkeley. Then again, the reason I may want to so badly drop out is because it's Berkeley. This place consumes you. It consumes you, makes you want to stuff knives up your ass, and then spits you out alive. And the worse thing is, you become one of them. One of these sad, study 90-hours-a-week kids, and you can't help it, because if you were to try and top these perfect students by studying only 88 hours a week, YOU'D BE DEEMED THE STUPIDEST PERSON ALIVE. I can't believe people have the will power to go to school here for their entire undergrad, some for eight years. The thought of being here for the next year and a half of my life is terrifying.
But, you know, maybe things get better and less competitive. NOT.
Back to lazy. For the past couple weeks, as a getaway from the thought of writing four papers in the next week, I have resorted to a pathetic amount of shopping and, well, sleeping. Yes, I've been getting eight hours every night. And no, I don't wish I'd spent those hours studying. The shopping, well, there has been lots of that. Online, window, an obsession with finding more Citizens jeans at half off, dvds and books, impulse buying at the first touch of a gorgeous light heather gray wool coat, yes. All of it. And more, because my roommate just got me a job at Sur La Table, the greatest store in the world. Whenever I'm there, I buy something impulsively with my discount, things no one needs, like a cupcake tree, or a potato ricer, or ANOTHER Le Creuset casserole oven. But, oh, the 40% discount that will undoubtedly give me the means for all my Christmas gifts. That's glorious.
I love that it is the middle of November and I look up and see a gorgeous blue sky. What a pick-me-up.
Oh, right. And yesterday morning, some moron upstairs managed to poop a possum, thus causing his toilet to overflow, in turn causing our bathroom walls and kitchen cabinets to leak. We ended up, within the span of, say, fifteen seconds, an inch of water on our bathroom floor, water bubbles in the walls, and water dripping in our kitchen cabinets. Poop water. Filthy, poop-infested water in my kitchen and everywhere in my bathroom. Is it appropriate to leave a note on his front door requesting that the next time he decides to consume an entire side of beef and pop a squat he PAY HEED TO THE MERCY FLUSH? Because I think it's totally appropriate, considering my kitchen now smells like day-old poop water mixed with disintegrating wood.