FREEEE!

Legend has it that in one of the school buildings, there is a mysterious room where you are allowed to print out 15 pages a day, free of charge. Since I've been going here, I've always thought it was merely an urban legend, except less gory and without the removal of people's kidneys.

Ladies and Gents, the room is real! In what was turning out to be the Worst. Day. Ever. has become slightly less bad.

Although the 5 minutes it took for me to find it was great, the 45 minutes spent just trying to figure out the wonky system kinda put a damper on my "I got shit for freeeee!" mood.

But still: freeee!

It's almost over!

I'm swamped with school assignments. Art history paper that is due tomorrow? Working on it right now. Actually, STARTING IT right now is more like it. Like you're surprised. Final art project? I have no idea when that's going to get done and thank the Lord it's not due till next week or I'd have a heart attack right now. Psychology presentation on Humanistic Therapy? Totally going to wing it, because I just don't care and the whole reason for the presentations are so that my lazy ass professor can sit back while her students do the actual teaching. She could have gone through all the different types of therapy in one class and saved us all the time and effort, but no, she springs it on us that we're going to be broken up into groups and present the therapies to each other.

I'm getting the feeling she's purposely trying to make my life difficult because not only does she spring the presentations on us without any warning, but like any good student, I take it in stride and make a group with my class friend, an intelligent and funny guy, and some other seemingly smart guy, but then she has the nerve to take me out of my own group and make me join some other girl, who in fact was already part of a group. Yeah, I'm still pissed at that. It was such an elementary school teacher move to make. "No, you and you, I want you two in a group. Come over here."

Finals are in two weeks, thank God, meaning that I'll only have to put with with this shit for a short time and then I can egg her car. And once school's done, I can concentrate on other things, like yoga and Downward Dog and how the weird hippy guy up in front needs to think about returning those lycra shorts, because, dude, I can totally see your man-business.

Ok, all that happened in my head. Gotta keep myself occupied.

Tapped Out.

My final art project has just been handed out: Chaos into Order, or, Order into Chaos.

We're supposed to incorporate any of the mediums or techniques we've used during the semester. I love the concept, but I'm just so tapped out on ideas. I continue to pull up blanks anytime I spend trying to hash out an idea. It's so frustrating knowing that the end is in reach and I'm thisclose to ending the class with an A but for the life of me cannot come up with jackshit.

I swear, each time I move I can hear the rattling of tin cans in my head.

Music has been playing constantly for the last few hours. Red House Painters. Sigur Ros. Xiu Xiu. Cat Power. Everybody that can conjure up images in my head in hopes of capturing it and turning it into art.

Nothing is happening.

There was some acting, but that's not important.

I just finished watching Prime, the Uma Thurman and Meryl Streep movie, and I think I liked it. But maybe that's because Bryan Greenberg, Thurman's romantic interest, was shirtless. Alot.

I know, "Fuck acting! It's all about the hot man abs!" So typical of me.

I have free time and I want to read?

That's right! I want a good book to read. I've been craving something worthwhile to consume and I just haven't had the time to put into looking for one. Not interested anything too weighty, like Tolstoy, or anything fluffly, like Evanovich. More in the middle, I guess. Thankfully all my classes have hit a lull in terms of tests and assignments -- the calm before the storm --, so this weekend will be my first in recent memory without any hideous college-related activies taking up all my precious "free" time. Pure bliss.

I taped Will & Grace, thus making it easier to fast forward through all the Will and Grace parts. Jack and Karen forever! The only reason I'm even watching it, though, is because it's the series finale and all. Sentimentallity gets me everytime.

Wait, what does the perm press button do?

For the second week in a row I've managed to complete a load of laundry before 2:00 p.m. I'm totally an adult now, right?

1. 2. 3. CLENCH!

The week went by pretty quickly. I managed to pick out my classes for the Fall semester and I'm quite pleased with my selection.

While going through my college's list of classes for the Summer and Fall, semesters, I noticed a yoga class offered during the summer months....and I enrolled. I'm always complaining about my lack of exercise and I've always wanted to take a yoga class, so it seems like the perfect activity for the summer. It's a morning class as well, so it won't prevent me from working and earning the dollars that have been chronically absent from my wallet.

("No, arch the back even more! Stupid human.")

My only concern is...um, farting. (Heh, "fart.") I don't know, maybe I'm crazy, but all those poses seem prone to inducing a case of the Butt Orchestra. Even though I have the utmost confidence in my superior butt-clenching abilities, I know if I happened to fart in the yoga class I'd be so embarassed that I would then be forced to erase my very existence from the annals of humankind. Or wipeout my fellow classmates in a Carrie-esque showdown. Whichever's the least amount of work, I suppose, although I should probably be aiming for whichever is least likely to get me convicted of murder.

Decision, decisions...What to do?

My enrollment date for the Fall 2006 semester is this Friday. And I have no idea what I'm going to take. I mean, I know for sure that I'm taking a drawing class, but other than that, I don't have a clue.

I'm on the verge of hanging up the class listings on the wall and throwing darts at them to decide.

The "C. Montgomery Burns" Look, coming soon to a hand near you!

I just spent the last six hours finishing up a week-overdue painting for my art class, slumped over the canvas, meticulously painting in each block of my quasi-geometric abstract design. I could have been done so much sooner if The Art Nazi hadn't insisted that each block/swirl/trapezoid, etc., be a DIFFERENT COLOR. Do you know how time consuming that is? Yeah, you guessed it. SIX HOURS. And that doesn't include the hours I've spent on it earlier this week.

My poor hands. Considering the hours I've spent painting, typing rough drafts for art history papers, and the furious pace at which I had to take notes during class lectures this week, I'm giving myself two years before I develop carpel tunnel syndrome. Or arthritis.

Typing this post didn't help my pre-arthritic hands. OUCH!

My nose is burning. Save me. [Part 2]

Now I know y'all are out to get me, with the sending of the people who smell like farts to sit next to me. I'm on to you bastards.

I just...I want to be in a smelly-free zone, people. Can you do that for me, please? Is it too much to ask? Wipe your butts, put on clean underwear. Take the necessary precautions to not smell like the contents of a diaper. Help me to help you.

Sincerely,
The Pouty Boy Sitting Next To You.

My nose is burning. Save me. [Part 1]

I wish so much right now that I were home. I want to go home, turn on my computer, blast some Modest Mouse and Jeniferever, and plop myself on the living room couch. Possibly take a nap while waiting for my ice cubes to solidify so then I can enjoy my cherry coke. Nothing beats a glass of coke with two ice cubes, seriously.

School sucks and waiting an hour for a class to start sucks even more.

Hey, you, Mr. Invading My Personal Space. Back the fuck off. Leaning on my chair while talking to your friend, that isn't going to fly with me. Besides, you smell. I highly recommend you switch to another deodorant. Or, maybe, just maybe, start taking showers. That always helps.

Man, I really want that glass of cherry coke right now.

OH MY GOD, you're back, Smelly Personal Space Invader. What is wrong with you!? Have you no shame? Go take your Silkwood shower, you freak. Ugh.

John is in love with a fictional character who has chiclet teeth. Go figure.

I have the biggest crush on Jim, one of the characters from The Office. He's funny and cute, and as the character Pam pointed out, he has nice teeth. A fine specimen indeed.

Sunday night I went to bed stressed out because I wasn't as prepared for what I thought was Monday morning's psych test. But like a gift from the heavens (Thank you, Jebus!), I was blessed with one of those rare infectiously happy dreams that causes you to smile and feel completely refreshed as you wake up the next morning. You see, I dreamed I was in an episode of The Office. For some odd reason, which I'll chalk up to dream logic, we had to fill out questionnaires during our lunch break and one of the questions was "Which musician do you hate the most?" and I wanted to answer it with the lead singer from Maroon 5, but I couldn't remember his name or the name of his band, so I had to sing something really nasally until someone guessed who I was referring to.

Plus Cheri O'Teri made a guest appearance and clown make up was involved, but I think it's best that I don't remember why.