Fuck you you fucking fucks!! I hate finals like RuPaul hates pussy. I could study, but what do I do? I sit and see how bad I can do without being put on academic probation. Real good waste of time huh? Well, if you were in my seat, you'd be doing the same, so don't be the pot calling the kettle black.
As for the previous post with the F, well that's still standing, so now I'm looking at a total of 1 final...Not too bad you say, well this final could well be the straw that breaks this camel's back. I have one nerve left, and everyone seems to be getting on it. I went off on my mom tonight on the phone because she lost an important address. Not a big deal, but when that means you coming back to school next semester or not, I think it becomes a pretty big damn deal. Now, you might think that I'm a high strung individual, not at all. I'm cool, calm, and collected, until it comes to this shit. That's when I want to pull out an M-16, walk into a classroom and just start spraying (don't worry it won't happen, I'm just being fecitious). But at the same time, I wish I could just go to sleep, and not wake up for a while, and when I do wake up, everything has been taken care of, and life is back to normal. But c'est la vie, it does not happen.
As for the rugby banquet, well, I don't remember too much of it, hell, there was a cash bar, c'mon now...I do know that we all got medals, and pictures with the trophy, and were able to raise over $10,000 to help us get to Stanford for the finals in April. Now we only have another $11,000 to go, give or take a few thousand.
So this Christmas, when I go to sit on Santa's lap (or rather the greasy drunk that dresses up like him) at the mall, I'm going to ask him for just one thing: when I die, bury me face down so that the world can kiss my ass.