I have exactly three things to say. First: I am posting this from a computer that is not my laptop, as it refuses to do its fucking job. I've lost hours of work as a result. I think it might be karmic justice for naming the machine "Skynet" and supergluing a Cyberdyne Systems patch over the factory logo.
Second: If I owe you something, it's done - hand to God. It's just trapped inside of the electronic oubliette, so-to-speak, that is the aforementioned laptop. I've dropped every curse I know trying to intimidate the infernal device into working properly, but it seems to have my number. I fled the state for a weekend as part of a trial seperation, but it's apparently still pissed at me. My mother suggested giving it a good, solid *whack*, I just don't have the heart to bludgeon my year-and-a-half-old laptop - nor do I have her...bravado.
Third: Today was the first day of my senior seminar. I've never had the professor before, and the first thing I said to him was, "I'd like to address one point on the syllabus, if I might."
"Please do," he said.
"I am vehemently opposed to group projects. I cannot put it any more succinctly than that."
"No," he responded, "you really can't. We'll talk about it."
Score one for preemptive strikes. That is all for- Fuck it. I'll keep going.
Four: everything velocity said about Chicago is true. With the conditional exceptions of Wicker Park, Logan Square, and the Ukrainian Village, my impressions of the city proper were not good. My sister's apartment, however, is wicked. Oh, and I pity the next beggar or hipster who crosses my path with anything but a bow; my urge to maim has almost never been higher. (Yesterday, I came really close to letting fly at some clown in the gaming store. I wanted to force him to re-learn breathing, but social grace got the better of me.)
Five: I am not a wide person. To wit: I can fit into womens' size two pants. It's not easy, but it is confirmed. That being the case, I do not understand why I got bumped in the shoulder by every fucking person who passed my seat on the flight to O'Hare. It was awful. I think I managed to read only fifty pages in two-and-a-half hours. Had it persisted on the return ride, too, my words would surely have been choice and colorful.
I'm finished ranting now. Please continue with your regularly scheduled browsing.
Second: If I owe you something, it's done - hand to God. It's just trapped inside of the electronic oubliette, so-to-speak, that is the aforementioned laptop. I've dropped every curse I know trying to intimidate the infernal device into working properly, but it seems to have my number. I fled the state for a weekend as part of a trial seperation, but it's apparently still pissed at me. My mother suggested giving it a good, solid *whack*, I just don't have the heart to bludgeon my year-and-a-half-old laptop - nor do I have her...bravado.
Third: Today was the first day of my senior seminar. I've never had the professor before, and the first thing I said to him was, "I'd like to address one point on the syllabus, if I might."
"Please do," he said.
"I am vehemently opposed to group projects. I cannot put it any more succinctly than that."
"No," he responded, "you really can't. We'll talk about it."
Score one for preemptive strikes. That is all for- Fuck it. I'll keep going.
Four: everything velocity said about Chicago is true. With the conditional exceptions of Wicker Park, Logan Square, and the Ukrainian Village, my impressions of the city proper were not good. My sister's apartment, however, is wicked. Oh, and I pity the next beggar or hipster who crosses my path with anything but a bow; my urge to maim has almost never been higher. (Yesterday, I came really close to letting fly at some clown in the gaming store. I wanted to force him to re-learn breathing, but social grace got the better of me.)
Five: I am not a wide person. To wit: I can fit into womens' size two pants. It's not easy, but it is confirmed. That being the case, I do not understand why I got bumped in the shoulder by every fucking person who passed my seat on the flight to O'Hare. It was awful. I think I managed to read only fifty pages in two-and-a-half hours. Had it persisted on the return ride, too, my words would surely have been choice and colorful.
I'm finished ranting now. Please continue with your regularly scheduled browsing.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
maike:
Also seconding the well-saidness of said comment.
sixblueten:
Three friends? You must have incredibly high standards! I fear not rejection. . .