So today is the twelfth. Twelve more days to do your Christmas shopping. Twelve also is the day I was born so whenever I see it on the calendar I squeal with glee and count the months until I can have cake and presents. For some reason, I wasn't really doing any sort of celebratory dance whilst in my panties this morning. In five months, I will be thirty. That is all.
Last night we had a group presentation to do for my Individuals with Disabilities class (which I crudely call "The Retard Class"). On Friday I was supposed to meet with 1/3 of my group but she couldn't make it and wanted to reschedule for Sunday. Fine. On Saturday the other 1/3 wanted to meet but I ran out of hours in the day after decorating and cleaning and basically living my life so we couldn't meet. At least she emailed me her info so I could make slides for our PowerPoint presentation. Sunday rolls around and I never hear from the first 1/3 and when I try her cell it is out of service. Monday morning she emails me and says she's sorry but she would finish up everything on her end and get the slides to me. Never happened. Not only that, bitch never even showed up for class. Our presentation was pretty much incomplete but I don't think the prof will hold it against us. My question is, how does my classmate eff us in the A and sleep at night? So rude. And why give up on your grade ON THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL? At least show up. Dang.
The Waitresses sing a song called Christmas Wrapping and I love it. Every time I hear it I dance like an ass and sing along with a lispy sort of sound that resembles a gas leak. Emulating the stereotype of an uber-gay I guess you could say. Good times. I've done no shopping. None. I'm waiting for my anxiety attack any minute now.

1 comment:

Itchy said...


I'm not done. And really...I'm leaving to go on my Fantastic Christmas Voyage on the 23rd. GAH! Something's gotta change...