I’m frustrated and teary.

Yesterday started out to be such a beautiful wonderful productive day. I had my taxes done and sent in all early, financial aid paper work was done, scholarship application info was finished, school projects completed and turned in, I got an A on my report, weather was warm. I was having a good hair day, got out of class early to have lunch with beau, got to look all happy and sunny in front of a gloomy person I really don’t like, and my little ivy plant started sprouting roots. Happy days.

Then there was the staying out late with the arguing and sniffles, then the little sleep, the tummy ache, neck ache, finding out that the A got on my report is worth hardly anything in respect to all F’s I’ve gotten on my lab reports and homework from skipped classes, the federal taxes that I did wrong and have to do again, the financial aid and state taxes that got screwed up because of said wrong doing and also need to be fucking done again, though I don’t know how. Then there’s next quarter that I don’t know how to pay for because I don’t have tax return income, the strep throat I might be having, the long day at work I have in an hour and the overall urge to stay at home for the next week or two locked in my room sleeping, crying, and writing to-do lists of things I’ll never get done.

To summarize-- basically everything that seemed great about the other day turned out to make trouble today.

Gawd, I’m in such a shifty bad beat-up pissed-off mood.

My two most favorite guys-- bro and boy.


Aren’t they just adorable?

Also, my taxes are officially.... almost done, school financial aid is about done, and I just have a few pages of a paper that's due tomorrow left to write. This is actually further ahead than I ever am.

Owey

I know the world doesn’t really need more grossness, especially after my chicken vein post, but I have to share some pain.

Ladies, imagine this (men, you can try too):
It’s a nice happy relaxed afternoon. You are getting ready to head out to met with uber sex-pot boyfriend. You go through your regular everyday get pretty routine. After you bathe and blow dry your hair you heat up your hair straightening iron. Pop in an Angel DVD. Happy happy. Life is good. Grab a chunk of hair, tug it through the straighten iron-- pretty shiny straight hair. Another handful of hair, another, and another. Then you go to run the iron through yet another chunk but the hair doesn’t seem to slide through.

Pause.

Then yelp when your little pain sensors finally reach your brain to say, “idiot, hot… hot! HOT!… um… you just sandwiched your earlobe between two hot metal plates. Good job”.

And this is the result after one week of healing and lots of Neosporin.



E-sympathy requested.

Detail of my new robe:


God, I have work in seven hours. Time for bed.

Up up and away!

Welcome to the Holiday Inn Express, Folks! Tonight our guests include DUI students, too many children under 5years old, and the Fifth Dimension!


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Up%2C_Up_and_Away

Yay! I’ve just spent the last twenty minutes telling the band where to find good Italian food in town. For some reason they’re all convinced that I can speak Italian and believe that I am the most highly regarded pizza expert in the West. I almost ruined it when I told them I was eating Donatos for dinner.

Type-9

Sarah (http://sarahetc.com/ -- I don't remember how to do LJcuts anymore) posted her type-9 test results a few days ago and because she's so damn awesome, I have to follow in her foot steps. And like you jie jie, I got a little bit creeped out when I began to read these.

To start off with, I'm a type 5-- "the thinker".

World View: The world is invasive and confusing. I need privacy to think.
Damn straight-- get away from me.

Basic Desire: to understand the world
Or at least the freakin' morons that populate it.

Basic Fear: of being overwhelmed by the world
Euh... maybe not so much, but read on, the rest is very true.

How to Get Along with Me: Be independent, not clingy.
Make me feel welcome, but not too intensely, or I might doubt your sincerity.
and my personal favorite...
Help me to avoid my pet peeves: big parties, other people's loud music, overdone emotions, and intrusions on my privacy.
PLEASE!

What I Like About Being a Five:
Being calm in a crisis.

What's Hard About Being a Five
Watching others with better social skills, but less intelligence or technical skill, do better professionally.

Gawd yes.

Prepare to be disgusted.

For those of you that don’t know already, I’ve got a thing with veins. I don’t want to see them, touch me, hurt them, talk about them, blog about them, etc, etc. Cotton balls and veins-- like my Achilles Heel. So, with that in mind, can you imagine how I felt when I saw this in my usual morning Kroger brand Chicken and Stars soup?



Yeah, those are chicken veins. *Gag* from a very vieny chicken. *Urp*



That shiny metal thing under the yuck is the wrapper to my poptart, the thing I opted to eat instead of vein soup.

(I apologize for the graphics, I don‘t have adobe Photoshop CS on my computer right now, I‘m working strictly with Paint).