I had the weirdest dream last night. It was really realistic. It was about Madonna. Yeah, the singer.
I think I saw it's because I saw her on Oprah a week ago or something.
Anyways, I'm walking a small cobblestone alleyway in Britain or something, and I see Madonna walking up ahead. There is no one else around.
I think to myself how cool this is and begin follow her, hoping she won't think I'm a stalker. I decide to see how long I can do this without her noticing and I end up all the way back to her apt/house. I walk in the door behind her and then that British/director husband of hers appear also. I start to panic - it was stupid of me to do this; if I get caught, I could be in major trouble.
As they start to talk, I realize they can't see me at all.
Madonna has this really cute daughter, Lourdes (yeah, a hell of a name, huh?) and she's got a cherubic face and long brown curls. She is so cute. She peeks out of a curtain while they are talking and I realize she can see me, because she's staring at me and acting all shy.
I put up a finger to my lips, so she wouldn't say anything. Then she walks to her game room or something where there's a bunch of toys and I play with her; dolls and tea and such. It was fun, I think, because I don't remember it really. Then I realize Madonna is leaving and for some reason I knew I had to follow her if I wanted to get out. She's in a different outfit.
I follow her out the door, and follow behind her for a long time until I think I fall or someone attacks me and I lose sight of her and then I wake up.
Weird.

#)@$&*)@#(*%@#(%
I LOST MY F#$*#%# TEMPLATE.

FU#($*#)(%*)#%
I will work on this later.
I have to go now.
#)$(*)#@(*%)@(#%#

They weren't kidding when they said that all business students have no soul; we gave it up when we entered the business school.

The mockingly reverential 'Family Statue' that towers in front of our Business School was erected to remind us what is important in life - I laugh at the irony, and at the sad fact that we need to be reminded.

All my extracurricular activities and all but one of my classes now take place at the business school. As I spend more and more time wandering the shiny hallways, passing the luxurious offices, and typing at my 20'' flat panel in the mil lab, I realize that:

The Business School is the Epitome of Sin

Gluttony
As you walk in the Atrium, the indeniably bewitching smell of over-priced coffee in fancy cups seduces you and draws you unwillingly to the kiosk. As you fight your urges to indulge in the legally addictive stimulent that speeds up your heart rate and stains your teetch, you are assaulted by the warm scent of greasy meat frying in slabs and oily fries salting in batches. I had to bite my lip and close my eyes to escape to the millenium lab.

Vanity
I am not kidding when I say in general, business students look better, carry themselves better, and dress better than all the other colleges.
If you disagree, you're probably an engineer. If you disagree and are not an engineer, start in the business school and walk towards the engineers. Notice the undeniable increase in pimples, shaggy hair, funky glasses, and lack of taste.
Disclaimer: There aRE exceptions.
We are vain. I am vain. But shut up, we look better.

Envy
'Why the hell did she get the job. I am so much more qualified.'
'He's the president this year? You've got to be joking.'
'You know that Armani suit came straight out of daddy's pocketbook.'
As much as everyone else envies us, we envy each other more.

Wrath
Simply because there are so many more reasons for us to get angry.
Theatre&Dance: "Dammit I keep projecting subtle hostility when I'm going for supressed resentment!"
EE: "Why the hell won't my oscilloscope work?"
English/Literature: "Oh why didn't Cathering profess her undying love for Heathcliff??"
Chem E: "Shit I mixed my solutions again! WHO stole my molecule kit?!"
It doesn't work.

Lust
Last weekend's Business Council Retreat:
1. Start with one hundred hormone infused twenty year olds.
2. Cram into tiny cabins in a remote hick town.
3. Eliminate all regards for the law, societal standards and adult supervision.
4. Throw in a cold front.
5. Pile on beer, trash can punch, and booty music.
Now 1+2+3+4+5 = Pheremones in cold night air, random make-out fests, obscene gyrations to profane music for 'body heat', and narcoleptic symptoms => coed siestas.

Greed: Need I say more?

Sloth
Now now, with all the bad things I've admitted about the business school, you gotta admit, we do work hard.
hahahahaha.
but really. It's not as easy as it looks. Try getting an engineer to lead a meeting or *gasp* talk to a girl.

Damn that took a long time.
I'm hungry.
Ima get me a burger and a jug of coffee.

peaCe.

Mon&Tuesday next week:

2 tests 1 project plan 1 quiz one big speech one letter man366 homework.
IM VB practice and work nextmondaynight
meetings everynight this week.
work/bc office hour every morning.

no weekend.
again.
for the 3rd week in a row.

I don't think I can do Saturday 9 hours of ushering and Sunday 6 hours of car wash and 3 hours of officer dinner/retreat/meeting.
I can't do it.
i can't do it.
but i signed up for it.

F me.

PumPinG gAs at a GheTto RivA-siDe GaS stAtiOn:

So I'm cRuiSiN' doWn dA roAd in mY oH-so-fLy rIde, when I nOtice that my gAs be loW.
AgaiNst my bettEr juDgemeNt, i puLLz oVer to a sEmi-lit gAs statioN wherE this huGe hisPanic f00l in a wiFe beaTer is aLso gEttIng gAs.

i whiP out my cRedit caRd and am aBout ta sLide the suCka, whEn i realize a siGn that says 'PAY FIRST.' I sAys to myselF - 'yO maN, whAt kiNda gHetto a$$ $hieT is thiS?"

So I stRoll inside to giVe a hollA and pay, and the big guy opens the door for me before he proceeds to bUy a stacK of ciGGies.

TheN some gaNsta/hobO lookin' dude in big black booTs and striNgy hair tries to walk aRound me, but I don't see, and he says 'excuse me miss' and politely waits fo mE to move mY oBliviouS caNdy a$$.

The even ghetto-er(?) attendent behiNd the cash register asks me how much I want, and I give him a 20. Then he politely says "thank you. have a nice day, mam" I wuZ like "yo, proPs, G, fo' dA nicE cusTomer seRvice"

I fillz up my dopE tsx, the whoLe time checkiN mah bAck to make suRe no one jumPs out and poPs a caP up in my @$$.
heY, it waS darK, aiGhT?
TheN I realize I paid $1.24 too mucH.

I go bacK in, and they easily refund maH d0lla.
Some other local holds my door for me on the way out.
AmazeD and absolutely tittilated at the R-e-s-p-e-c-T and tha br0thAh00d the peepS had for me at the sTatioN, I high fiVed all the niGGas on the way to my car and proMised I'd be bacK the next week.

So I roLL ouT, at peace with the world and at homE in dA h00d.

To maintain my sanity I skipped my one class today.
I woke up when I felt like it, laid around in bed for awhile, and Sarah's making pancakes and eggs with her music on.
There's been a cool front and the weather makes me so happy.
I lit a candle and am just reading blogs, catching up on e-mails and little things.
I like the atmostphere a lot.

I have a meeting with pickaprof later today and I have to run more errands and then ultimately leave for the BC retreat.
I felt like I deserved somE sort of a weekend.
This week has been so long. Next week will be even worse with work starting.
It's sO nice to relax.

This is the story of my BA324 Cover Letter homework.

My day starts of with me forgetting to do it.
SOo during my BC office hour:
I frantically find an ad to reply to online,
and write up the letter.
I decide to wait until right before class to print it.
Bad idea.
Not only do I lose track of time at the career fair thing,
I don't have an IF account. (they take money from it when you print stuff at the business school).
I have to have Bevo Bucks to have an IF account.
I don't have money in my Bevo Bucks.
I can't add money until I join their little Bevo club thing.
I join.
Then I can't add money because they don't accept Visa anymore, those bastards.
UT only takes MasterCard or Discovery.
I don't have Mastercard or Discovery.
I have the option of opening my EFT account; where I can give them by banking router number and account number and wire money directly from a checking account.
I don't have my bank router number or checking number.
I call my mom.
She doesn't have the numbers.
She calls the bank. I get the numbers.
I add the money to bevo bucks.
Bevo bucks adds money to my IF account.
Meanwhile I'm sweating and looking at the clock obsessively.
I print the damn letter.

I am 20 minutes late to class.
I rush to class, feet huRTINg, all in my suit, waiting for the professor to yell at me (it's a small class)
I am nervous - I don't like being late.
He just smiles and half waves. I start apologizing profusely, saying I lost track of time at the career fair thing.
He just says it's not big deal and it's ok and says I look nice. Then he smiles and keeps lecturing.
I make a weird face. What a strange teacher.
He doesn't care I'm almost half an hour late? He doens't even care why?
Well, then again, he's been even late-R.
I sit down and try really hard to concentrate and take notes out of remorse.
oh well.
all's well that ends well.

things are always better than I forcast them to be.
maybe that's why I stress so much.
the more pessimistic my outlook, the better the reality in comparison.

don't get me wrong. my schedule still sucks. I just got home. and I can't emphasize enough how much it will bloW to wear a suit (epsecially heels) aLL friggin day tomorrow. Oh well. I should get used to it.
Other than that, I don't mind the busy-ness all that much. I like the end results.

I was going to spell busy-ness: BUSI-ness = Business. get it? ha.ha. I thought it was neat.

Anyways... my brass ring management 366p internship pickaprof thing is looking up. so far ideas and work habit wise we seem to complement and balance each other out as a group. I'm getting excited about implementing our ideas. but I can't say that or I'll jinx myself. I take it all back. we're probably going to fail. miserably.

Hey I just remembered my dream last night.
It was SO real.
I don't remember the beginning, but I was driving with someone somewhere. I think to maybe watch a movie?
Anyways, on the way back, the sky was very very gray, causing all the buildings and streets and cars to look very bleak and gray also. It was slightly drizzling and getting colder and colder. I turn onto this on ramp, and it takes me in the wrong direction and I realize I'm kinda lost. Then I drive until I see this mall I recognize - it's gray also, and I ask my passenger if it's ok if we stop there; pretending like I intended to go there. Of course I'm not going to admit I don't know what I'm doing. I figure I can redirect myself while I'm calm and sitting in the mall.
The part where we're in the mall passes, and on the way out it's still gray and depressing and I start to panic about being lost again. The passenger says that hE can drive, and embarassed that I don't know where I'm going, I agree to actually let him drive my car.
He takes it onto this really really really high highway ramp.. it's very scary. He starts driving way too fast. I try to tell him to stop, but he won't. I try to grab control of the wheel, lean over and hit the brakes, but I can't.
We break through the concrete side of the ramp.... and I scream as we go flying. He's still kinda calm - telling me we'll make it to the other side and land on another ramp. I don't believe him.
Then I realize we're falling. In slow mo. Like you can see the rain fall at the same speed all around us. Bits of concrete also shower down slowly.
I don't remember the crash, just the split second after. I remember feeling my head hurt so badly, throbbing. My arms and legs couldn't move, they were so sore/broken. I couldn't really move my neck and I looked around and knew that I was in a lot of trouble. Then I remembered the landing, but as a flashback. I hurt a lot.
The worst feeling wasn't the pain I was in at the present, but the not knowing what was going to happen next, and the helpless feeling of not being able to control it. And of course, my berating myself for letting it happen.

I wonder if this symbolizes my own fear of losing control and direction, and even more so: my fear of letting someone elSe take control - the results were far worse.
The grey grey grey was just my mood I guess. I've been pretty down lately.
So in conclusion I am anal retentive and paranoid about my choices: in school, in clubs, with people, in life - agonizing over everything. I hate to be wrong and I hate making bad choices.
But even worse - I'm an overly cautious control freak that hates other people helping me.
The crash was a manifestation of what could happen if I don't figure out what's going on in my life BY myselF and let someone/something else in my life take over.
yeah. deep, man.
And why was the passenger a guy? Well naturally, the person who makes me feel embarassed to admit failure, the peer who makes me feel unequal, the gender who tries to take control and then fails miserably is going to be male.

I've witnessed, admitted, and straight up been told that "guys who are aggressive and opinionated are leaders, girls who are aggressive and opinionated are bitches"
I'm finding it increasingly harder as I get older to be a girl. I feel some weird societal demand for me to not speak tot forwardly or loudly in groups I don't know, and then what happens is some loud mouthed guy takes over. He may not be that smart or responsible, but he's loud. And he's taller than me. And he's a guy.
Ironic that I, of all people, am afraid to be blunt? Screw you. I saiD 'with people I don't know' .. and usually that's when I need confidence the most. With organizations, team work, class, etc.
It's ok. That's just something I have to get over. I will.

But really. All my dreams are always stressful. I worry about every little aspect in my life. Me missing appointments, people backstabbing me, bfs cheating, failing tests, losing touch/influence with the people in my life, crashing, failing, falling.

I really can't remember the last time I had a nice dream.
Maybe when I stop stressing so much in real life.

The Millennium Lab (for the engineRds, that's the big, nice computer lab at the business school. one of them.) has brand new 18" (?) LCD flat screen panels. So nice.

Anyways. WhY am I in the Millennium Lab?
Because I signed up for BC Office Hours on Wednesdays at 10:50am. But once I realized I needed mornings to work, I e-mailed and requested a time change. Since I didn't get a reply, I decided I should show up for my original time slot anyways.
You get counted half an absence if you're late, (3 strikes and you're out of BC) so I showed up like 20 min. early. So I'm a bit paranoid. But you never know.
When I got to the BC Office, I couldn't sign in. (yeah, they have this high tech computer log in thingy that tracks what time you signed in that can only be accessed from one computer)
Then I checked the online times and it said I had been moved to THURS 10:50.
Too bad no one ever TOLD me.
The thing was, I had already mADE plANS for Thursday.
HBSA invited ABSA's exec's to a Corporate Reception - the companies that were going to be at their Career Night (kinda like a Career Expo) were having lunch or something. Then we planned to go to an hour of their Career Night until I had class. Since they're both formal, nOw I have to dress up for even an hour longer.
Sucks. Business Formal during officer hour, during reception, during recruiting thing, then during class. then go home, cram down food, and stay dressed up for absa meeting. 12 hours! I don't think I can handle it. pooOOooo for dressing up.
And POO for unreliable schedules and lack of routine!
I NEED to knoW what's going on! I hate changes last minute! HATE HATE.

Thanks so much Sarah & Shanna for talking to me the other day and listening to me vent and giving me advice. I am dropping LEB. Now I'm only taking 12 hours, but they said 15 hours business classes plus the internship thing was stupid. Well, not stupid. But crazy. And BC and ABSA take up a lot of time. A lot. Thanks for the nice notes on our bulletin board and stickers and cookies. YAy.
And thanks for the few that I feel comfy enough to vent to - everyone else just gets offended or scared at my ranting. Thanks.

Another hour and a half. So lonely. So hungry.

I'm tired of school.
I'm tired of meetings and meeting and meetings.
I'm tired of dressing up and shoes that hurt my feet.
I'm tired of the millions of e-mails to write and calls to make and people to contact and errands to run.
I want time to vacuum. Or get a vacuum for that matter. and maybe a trash can for the friggin kitchen so I can stop rehanging up the damn garbage bag on the door each time it falls down.
I'm tired of conflicts within teams, misunderstandings among friends, and resentment towards other people in general.
I hate having my weird schedule of not starting class till 12:30 and meetings every monday, tuesday, wednesday, and thursday. I can't sleep till late late.
I hate even more how now with the Brass Ring internship starting and BC office hour I won't even have mornings to sleep in after staying up late. Monday and Wednesdays are gone. Now Friday nights will be gone to working too.

Monday:
intern work early, go to class, go to work, have absa meeting, have absa IM practice for volleyball.
Tuesday:
bc office hour, go to class, run home change to business casual, go to class till 9. group meeting.
Wednesday:
go to work early, go to class, run home eat, bc org rep meeting, bc meeting till late.
Thursday:
class, class, run home change to business formal, absa meeting till late.
Friday:
class. work work work tilll lateeeee

Repeat repeat repeat forever.
weekends are nonexistent. let's not talk about weekends.

I dunno when or how I'm gonna ever eat.

AND STOP ASKING ME what i'm doing this weekend, K?
I'M GONE FOREVER.
ok. just till sunday. friday till sunday.
BC informal retreat.
whee.
camping with 100 people.
with alchohol.
wAh.
I'm forced to bond.
F(*$#$# shoot me now.
I don't care who reads this.
yeah, I'll probably end up brainwashed and come backing thinking it was fun or something, but for now,
I RESENT IT.

I resent how they don't tell us JACK SHIT about what's going on until the day before. I have to schedule meetings with my work and I cAN"T because I DON'T KNOW when/where/how we're leaving Friday afternoon.
HEnce I AM unreliable because I don't have all the info.

and HEY.
DON't TALK TO ME ONLINE.
odd are, If I'm noT 'away', I'm probably NOT ON TO TALK TO YOU.
not because I don't like you (well, that mAY be true - use your own judgement) but that
I DON'T HAVE TIME TO HAVE TEA AND CHAT.
It's probably for a group meeting.
OR TO ASK an ABSA officer for stuff.
OR to VENT.
And unless you want me being rude to you, don't talk to me.
else talk to me and don't take it personally.
I will be a bitch for the next few months.
Please don't cry about it.
And please don't ask me 'what's up' or 'how's it going' or 'how are you feeling' or 'what are you doing'
If you want to know,
REREAD the blog.

I'm sleeeeepy. but I have to do homEwork.
I'm tired of school already. i no wanna go to school no more.
no more meetings. so tiring. i want more and more free time.

I came back from Houston yesterday because I had a BC [business council] formal induction thing today at 10am.
I get a call late last night telling me to be ready to picked up at 6:45am. I could show up in pajamas.
I asked her why she was doing this [to me] and she said she kinda had to.
For a moment I panicked. I thought I was going get haZed or something.
What other crazy people make you wake up at 6AM on a Sunday?
all 100 members of BC crammed into one Krispy Kreme.
I ate too many donuts.
I feel sick.
why am I up so early.
this is sacrilegious.
sundays are for rest.

[omar pretending to be jon on omar's screen name]
(but it backfires, muahahaha)

lilg8416: i am jon
lilg8416: i am gay
lilg8416: just thought u'd wanna know
lilg8416: find me a man, noW!
Demona848: i know. you're gay with omar. duh
lilg8416: no
Demona848: yes
lilg8416: omar is str8
lilg8416: i've tried
lilg8416: i've failed
Demona848: no he's not, jon. you of all people would know
lilg8416: :'(

lilg8416: y can't u jus admit omar's str8
Demona848: cause he uses words like 'str8'
lilg8416: hmmm
lilg8416: well that's the thug in him
lilg8416: he can't do anythign about it
lilg8416: he tries
Demona848: HAHAAHA
Demona848: omar = thug?
Demona848: that's even funnier than omar = straight

lilg8416: hmm yea...i guess he's good at hiding his thugish appeal
lilg8416: ok...i know u don't know but this is really omar
lilg8416: !!!
lilg8416: HAAAAA
Demona848: NO WAY
Demona848: AHHH
Demona848: i said all those bad things about him
lilg8416: omg
lilg8416: i so tricked u

Yesterday was our first ABSA meeting/Social mixer.
It went pretty well - SO many people showed up, although a few just ate our food and left.
But for those who stayed the whole time and went bowling, I looked around the whole time and evEryone looked like they were having fun. Everyone mingled, and welcomed new people, and it was just great.
That made me happy ^_^
It looks like we'll have another great crop of people at ABSA this year!
All the stressing and work we did paid off.
Yay officers - we're gonna have a great year!
Yay ABSA 2003-2004!

Shanna, David and I are eating dumplings.
She finishes and starts to cut eggplant.

Shanna: Do you eat eggplant?
David: I think I've seen an eggplant once. Big purple things?
[Shanna holds up a Chinese eggplant. They are a lot thinner and shorter. Much like Chinese people.]
David: Whoa.
Me: Looks different, huh? American eggplants are big and round. Like you. Chinese eggplants are smaller and thinner. Like me.
[I think this is funny, but David apparently does not.]
Shanna: [turns around and faces us] Ok. question.
David: Ok. Shanna.
Shanna: This might be kind of offensive...
Me: [laughs] Believe me, you can't be any more offensive than I am! Ask!
Shanna: So you're white, right?
[We all can't help but laugh at her. Shanna asks funny questions. More often than not, she laughs at herself, too]
Shanna: Do you have a culture?

hahahahaha. I hAd to blog her.
"You're white, right? Do you have a culture?"
hahahaha. The best part is, Shanna is serious.

I take back my comparison with my accounting teacher to Mrs. Schroyer.
That was was grossly insensitive and mean on my part.
I like my accounting teacher. She is funny and smart. And she tells stories and jokes. Her jokes aren't always funny... but we always end up laughing at the fact no one laughs. And that at least laughing rejuvenates me.
She's also got a "bachelors and a master’s degree in piano, a master’s degree in accounting, a doctorate in the statistics and program evaluation areas of educational psychology."
Mrs. Schroyer (my senior english teacher) probably couldn't run a Kindergarten class. Well, I take it back. She could, but I wouldn't be surprised if they started throwing ABC blocks at her big empty head.

Dr. Keller said that she understood our tendency to fall asleep in class, and said when she was a freshman she used to aLways fall asleep in this one class, and when it came to test time, she had NO notes and there was no book, so she was screwed. But since high school everyone thought she was 'the smart one', they asked her to study with them. So she just asked them to give her their notes so she could check them and then help them study.
So she just studied off lots of other peoples' notes.
I thought that was very funny.
Anyways, so far I like accounting. Teachers make a biG difference.

My business law professor lets us ask him questions at the beginning of each class. Since he used to practice, it's like getting free legal advice.
So far I've heard a lot of "let's say I parked semi-illegally.... what's the punishment for MIPs ... and I'm about to get fired; can I sue for wrongful discharge?"
::shakes head::
College students.
But he has given us a lot of good advice on traffic tickets and how to handle them and stuff.
I like law. Knowing it well is like a whole new type of power. POWER!

Oh, and I don't hate Gemberlng. I realized she's not a bad teacher, just MIS310 is a craPPER class and it's stupid to teach computer applications to a class of 400. Statistics is ok. Blah.

My BA324 professor is crazy. He's really a good writer/talker/business person, but class is a joke. It's supposed to be from 2:00-3:30.
The first day of class, he dismissed us at 2:50. "I have a class at 3:00pm, so I gotta go now."
Everyone just kind stared at each other.... if he has class at 3:00.. how do we finish our 2-3:30 class??
We don't.
Then the othER day.. he shows up like 25 minutes late. And he said to reward us for staying there and waiting, he'll dimiss class early. Or should I say, even EaRlier.
Yeah. But he really does have very good advice and suggestions on oral speaking, writing, presentations, etc. He makes very good points very succintly. I think we can all learn a lot from him, and the best part of it is, he doens't take long to do it.

Anyways, if you can't tell/don't know me by now, I like to make a big deal out of stuff at the beginning of the year. The more I hate and dog on my professors, the better I start to like them later on. I mean, if you have low expectations over things you can't control, you don't have anywhere to go but up, right?

Usually my blogs are dramatic exaggerations.... I hate it when people take me too seriously or think I'm crazy. So what if I am?
Put it this way: Do you want me to vent my frustations with my writing or with my fists in your solar plexus?

You know what's even more annoying than little bugs?
LOUD PEOPLE.
Especialy LOUD people living upstairs.

I don't understand how one can make suCH a loug BANg BANG BANg sound when they walk, unless they are trying to.
And I am not exaggerating. I TRIED to bang when I walk, and I wasn't even able to until I started jumping up and down.
Ask Vivian! She has been over enough to hear conSTANT louD pounding at all times during the day.

It is so annoying.
I really don't get how you can make so much noise.
A lot of times it sounds like they are banging drawers or something. Maybe they are just callous people, but it's starting to seriously get on my nerves, especially since I'm actually trying to studying now!

Sarah said that a few nights ago there was loud pounding at 4am (NOT that kind of pounding, k?) and she had to bang on the ceiling to shut them up.
I'm leaving a nice polite note on their door.
Actually I want to just cuss them out, but it's not their fault if they don't know, right?
#$*)#(%*#%#

When I grow up, I wanna live in a house with a lOT of land around me, so I never have to hear any
a) rude, inconsiderate people below (those lying Dobie bitches who lied about having music on and kept doing it after we asked nicely. repeatedly.)
b) stompy, bangy, unreasonably heavy treaders upstairs

I will have a big house and acres of land around it and a big GUN.
and several DOGS.
SO THERE.

I'm trying to do my accounting homework, and there's this STUPId little bug that's attracted to my desk lamp. Every now and then it flies around my head. It is really annoying.

"Hi. Would you like to be a rower?" asks the big buff white guy on my way to the bus stop.

I imagine myself, a tiny little asian girl, paddling furiously among a ketch full of sweaty buff girls.

Big buff white guy sees me hesitate. He gives my small body frame a second appraisal.
"Maybe you can consider coxing a boat?"

What?? Is he implying I'm smaLL or something? I can row a friggin boaT!
Does he not sEE the big guns on me?
Geez.

Although now that I think about it, I think if I had the crazy amounts of time and physical endurace, it would be fun... I get to be the little person at the front of the boat yelling...

"Row! ROW~! YOU M(*&$#@F3$*#$!! Harder! VEER RIGHT!!! paDDLE, DAMMIT!!! PUT YOUR BACK INTO IT!! "

Yeah. But I'm too busy this semester.

hee hee hee...
thanks wei wei

What Japanese Toilet Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Everytime I wash dishes, I have to use the bathroom.
Always. It is inevitable.
As soon as I hear the water running, some switch clicks on.
But strangely enough, it doesn't happen when I wash my hands.
hmm...
Then again, I usually wash my hands aFter I use the restroom, so that makes sense, too.
I wonder if it really has to do with my Id hearing the water. Maybe it's feeLing the warm water; like that mean prank where you dip a sleeping person's hand in a bowl of warm water and they subconsciously pee. They think they're in the womb or something.
Neato. I think I have solved the mystery.

I hate pickles.
I've always hated them. For as long as I can remember, I've made sure that no pickle slice or even pickle juice contaminated my burgers.
But for some reason, ever since I partook in Hooters' fried pickles a few months ago, I've had a perverse craving for them.
I actually bought a jar of them for my apartment, god knows why.
I still hate the taste of it when I eat it, yet I can't stop.
I think it's my way of relieving my masochistic inclinations.