Due to a recent freak-out back in the hometown of Centerville, I have decided to start anew. (Some kid’s mom got mad, called a principal, kids have been suspended and questioned by police…Oh Centerville.)
With a more limited audience, I feel as if I can share more about my day-to-day mishappenings (and happenings, when I am lucky.) I say this as if my life is so fascinating that I cannot share details, or else people would die of the excitement. That is not entirely true. Mostly, I just don’t want the fam reading any longer, so I can talk about what I did instead of going to class. (Like yesterday, I went to dinner with Dustin and Matt. Far more important than my film class.)
Yesterday was in fact filled with all sorts of excitement. Classes started again after our fall break. We workshopped stories in Randy’s class. A quiz in Mark’s history class raped me as usual, and as I mentioned before, I skipped 393, and got dinner at Commons. Kyle, who lives downstairs, stumbled into my room around 10:20, proclaiming that “Power Hour fucks you up.” From my prior experience, this statement is very due. 60 shots of beer does in face “fuck you up.” After staggering away from my door, I went down to 245 to see what was going on, and much to my surprise, a Power Hour was in full swing. I threw a few back. How could I not?
Today brought less exciting things. I went to Literature and Religion, and was placed in a small group with the most annoying and misinformed girl in my class, who I have lovingly named “The Twin.” This nickname is more of an inside joke between Michelle and I, and most likely would not be funny to anyone outside of us. I wanted to smack this bucktoothed idiotass the entire time we worked. I also worked in the effing costume shop for three hours. One tenth of my THFM046 obligation is now finished. Tomorrow I serve another hour, but this time, Josh Gleason will be by my side to help me through.
Tonight UFO is having a committee meeting for the film festival, and somehow, I have been roped into attendence. That Ren Bergmann needs to watch out for his sorry ass. I smell can smell something sweet…I think it may be the people of UFO rising up and stripping him of his presidency. No, I kid. Look how much I love Ren! That is our engagement photo. He insisted that we take one more that better shows the rage in his eyes. Rage that he can’t express his love for me, that is! Oh Ren. At the meetings, we just gaze into eachother’s eyes and hope for the meeting to be over soon, so that we can hold eachother once again. Ren actually hates me.