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so. on friday i had a little meltdown. i printed up the most horrible horrible essay in existence, and it was too late to put it in my t.a.'s mailbox, since the history department was under lockdown for the weekend. hm. and there was no way i was going to be able to start my second essay, due that night. hm.

so i went home, me and my headache, and my awful essay, and i cried. i cried like nothing else...spit all over my pillow and snot impeding my breathing. it was a fuckin' pathetic bawl.

socks bugged the shit out of me until i laughed, and was torn between her needs (me not going to the after-class partay) and my needs (really wanting to go to the after class partay, but not wanting to go without a paper). we went for sushi.

i felt better, so much in fact, that i went to the partay. but it took me 2 hours to get there. no, the party was not in HAMILTON. it was in toronto (so i'm told) but i didn't get off the bus at the right stop (i assumed the fucking driver would call it, since i asked him about it with a "little-girl-lost" aura about me) and i ended up in the ghetto. like, where Snow (the artist) grew up. so so far, so so skanky, so miserable. at 11.30 pm i showed up.

i smoked about 8 cigarettes one after the other while my prof made me gin martinis. it was fucked.

i could have made this story much longer, but i have to go hand in this essay, the WORST ONE IN THE WORLD. i even put a note on the back saying it was terrible. points for honesty? ha ha.

blaaaaaaaah.

(oh yeah, i got a job)