I walked in to class today with my 20-page paper and my 5-page paper, both of which were due today for the same class. We were also supposed to have read 3 additional research articles to discuss. Last night after I printed out my 20-pager and then my 5-pager, the thought of the 3 discussion articles vaguely crossed my mind. Needless to say, I laughed maniacally, turned out the lights, and went to bed.

"Since you are all probably pretty tired," my professor said this morning as we walked in, "I thought I'd give you guys a break from our regular class discussion." (Regular class discussions include the same 2 outspoken students sharing anecdotes from their personal lives that only very distantly relate to the articles while the rest of us sit quietly, smiling and gasping when appropriate). "Today I want you to get in groups of three, discuss the articles, come up with an intervention plan for troubled families based on the findings of the research, and then give a presentation to the rest of the class."

What the heck, lady? In what world does "break" translate to "surprise presentation at 9:30 am?" A break, if I am not mistaken, traditionally consists of pizza, a movie, and letting class out a half hour early.


In other news...

There is an office I use a lot to do work for my assistanship. Ever since the beginning of the school year, the clock in that office has been one hour behind. (I did not realize this at first, causing me to be late for class).

Although I had mostly trained myself not to look at the clock and use my phone instead, whenever I did catch a glimpse of it it would still really throw me off and aggravate me.

I wanted to ask someone to change it, but I didn't know who to ask and I also didn't want to be the kind of girl who complains about a clock being an hour behind. "Just add an hour in your mind," I was afraid would be the response. (Don't even get me started about just adding an hour in my mind).

Daylight Savings will be here soon enough, I told myself. I was counting down the days. All my troubles would be solved.

The Monday following Daylight Savings, I entered my office. Very eager to start a new relationship with the clock that would finally be correct.

Only to realize... someone had turned it back an hour!! What the hell! Immediatly after Daylight Savings, someone actually turned back the clock that was always an hour behind! FML.


But seriously, stay tuned next time for "Why all my furniture has been covered in tin foil and tarp for the past 3 months."

Yesterday in class my stomach growled for literally about 15 seconds.

It's a small class, and we all sit in a circle, and my stomach had been just quiet enough that I was able to hope that no one had noticed.

"Was that your STOMACH?" my friend then turned and loudly asked.

Everyone laughed.

"Yeah," I said. "I think so. I mean, it was going on so long even I was beginning to wonder if it could be my own stomach. But yes, yes it was."

They're a bunch of bitches.

Last weekend a Halloween party was occurring at the apartment next door. It was so loud that it might as well have been taking place in my own bedroom, in my bed even, but I let it slide until 3am when Mambo No. 5 started blaring, causing all of the scantily-clad girls to shriek and cheer.

Just then I peeked out my window, and just as I did I heard the guy next door shout "I bet apartment 4 is getting ready to call the cops! They're a bunch of bitches!"

"Bitchesssssssssssss!" shouted some random whore.

So then I called the cops.

I've resisted starting a blog because I've been trying to do things that make me feel like an adult rather than a pre-teen. And because even thinking the word "blog" makes me feel deeply self-conscious and kind of like a super-lame creepo. But approximately every 7 minutes something happens to me that I find myself wishing desperately I could blog about, so much so that my heart rate quikens and my body starts convulsing at the thought of such rich material going unwritten. So what the hell.

That's all for now. Stay tuned next time to hear the heartwrenching story entitled "Why all of my living room furniture has been covered in tin foil and tarp for the past three months."