I am only blogging because I am really mad, and if I don't vent constructively, I'll probably walk up to the next innocent bystander that I see and break his or her jaw without batting an eyelash. I had a group presentation tonight that was an utter failure. Two people in my group really got on my nerves. Both were passive aggressive, ignorant, and lazy. Our presentation was a complete disgrace. I don't do half-ass work. I just don't. I do everything above and beyond because I'm at least half crazy and because I'm a workaholic. This presentation looked like a bunch of strangers met on eharmony, crapped out a PowerPoint, and attempted to make each of their topics mesh. It was a train wreck. Only a few of us took this presentation seriously. I spent ten mother effing hours integrating all of the slides to make this PowerPoint cohesive yesterday. Then, after our Rainman-esque presentation, after two of the members got into a fight in front of the WHOLE flipping class, and the group activity went to hell, our teacher approached us with,

"Where is your four page paper?"

Excuse me? Big red letters in my mind screaming WTF?! Four page paper? Did I just get punked? Ashton Kutcher, please jump out from under my desk with a camera. This is not happening. WHEN THE HELL DID A FOUR PAGE PAPER MAKE ITS WAY ONTO THE SCENE!?!?!?!

So, I am pretty sure that my GPA just got shot to hell and that I might have to check into Alcoholics Anonymous. I might start my bout with alcoholism tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a good day to start drinking. Tonight I am just too unmotivated.

All I wanted to do was come home and cry and drink a gallon of antifreeze. I couldn't cry, though. I am too damn tired. My family was here for the past week over Thanksgiving, and in that time period, somehow it's like I got sucked into this rip-in-time scifi vortex and totally lost track of my regularly scheduled life. I.e., yesterday, I opened my planner and had another WTF?! experience. Finals. Next week. Maybe I should have been a little more ahead on that one. Oh yes, and today I woke up and realized that my rent was due. I need a personal assistant. I'm calling Cousin JoEvelyn to come move in with me. JoEvelyn, my full time p.a.

I shouldn't be typing away about nothing right now. I have forty papers to write and a bunch of anti depressants to snort (I wish). I just can't study anymore right now, though. Just can't do it. This presentation has me so depressed that I can only keep replaying this scene in my mind:

Rachel stands in front of the class and gives her little shpeel. She rocks her section because she's not a slacker. Presentation spirals downward rapidly. Rachel runs through the classroom, clocks every non-participatory group member in the face with brass knuckles, runs for the corner, swings open the door, and starts funneling bourbon.

So right now I have more zits on my face than Oprah has chins. I haven't been this broken out since puberty. Also, I'm down to my last roll of toilet paper, and the thought of going to the grocery store makes me want to puke. AND, I have nothing to eat but frozen Thanksgiving leftovers. Don't get me wrong. This food is freaking good. The only thing is that I haven't been to the gym since Saturday and I don't want to be cramming my face full of casseroles if I'm not working this crap off. I just imagine my arteries being clogged full of mayonnaise. Sick.

The one bit of comic relief of my day came from my third grade client, who proudly told me as I walked in her door,

"I got my wart chopped off my toe today!"

I found this quite hilarious. Something about the complete oblivion that kids portray in the realm of social flirting is awesome to me. Maybe it's because I am sort of like that. I don't really give a crap as to whether or not I'm going to be accepted or rejected by the majority- I'm going to say what I feel like saying.

This is only problematic with men. I have recently reached this verdict. I tell my guy friends that I can't hang out until finals are over, and they flip out. I double book two dates for the same event on accident, they flip out. I try to be logical and explain things in a way that makes sense-- flip out, flip out, flip out. My girl friends are much easier to deal with. I say I can't hang out, they say, cool- call us when you can. Or they say, do I look fat in this? I say yes. Don't buy that. They say, cool, thanks for your honesty. I'm telling you. Life is already difficult. I don't need the additional drama. So I am going to invent a screening instrument that measures the amount of drama that men will bring to my life. If they score a 70 or higher in the passing department, I will schedule limited interactions with them on days when I am feeling generous. If they score below 70, I will pass their information along to some desperate girl in her 40's who is on the prowl for a man and who has no pulse. Some people thrive on that crap.

So. This concludes my venting of the evening. I hope that all people who did not contribute or who acted like complete douche bags in my group get amoebic dysentery during finals, I hope that my face will soon resume to its normal, only partially acne-infested self soon, and I hope that my friends will be low-drama until finals are over so I won't have to shank anyone. The end.