Two.

There's something about Thursdays that really seems kinda epic in a way. Not heroic epic. More like anticlimactic, fuck my life, it should be Friday, but it isn't kinda epic. Like I woke up at the crack ass of dawn this morning, for reasons unknown (=P) and somehow made it to class. Let me tell you something about my 9:30 AM intro to computers class. Apparently I was extra wicked last semester, so Jesus decided to set me up in purgatory. Try sitting in front of a computer, and learning NOTHING. Why? Cause your teacher, who's name is Dike by the way, has this amazing ability of saying nothing in an hour and twenty minute lecture. She is of some African/Caribbean descent, but went to London for a few years, so her accent is like this bootyscratch voodoo stick up my ass type thing. In other words it's bad. And everytime she speaks, she talks like we're remedial. Not to mention with an attitude. But the thing is, she makes no sense. I learned more about myspace and facebook than I did about word processors and website creating. Anyway, me being the Libra that I am, I challenge her every chance I get. See, where she's just pompous, I have this profound ability to be both sarcastic and condescending at the same time. Trust me, working at CVS, it's a necessary skill. Anyway, I pretty much destroy everything she tries to say within seconds, and she shuts the hell up. Now, I know purgatory is supposed to make me suffer, but I actually enjoy it! Sure, I'm probably sealing my fate, with a shiny seat waiting in hell for me, but I heard it's a party down there. What he doesn't know is my two best friends are coming with me, so we shuttin that operation DOWN.

I think the suppliers of college vending machines should be sued. I don't know about you, but 80% of college students are broke as hell. Flies zoom out my wallet whenever I open it. Our idea of a fancy meal are those packs of ramen noodles we keep in the kitchen cabinet. Or under our dorm matresses. As much as college is these days, those Lil Debbie snacks need to be free. If not, then how bout fixing them? I put a dollar twenty five in the vending machine the other day cause I really, really wanted the world's smallest pack of Swedish Fish. But the damn thing didn't turn when I put the money in! That was my last dollar and twenty five for the next few days after that. Then today, I put a dollar in one machine to get change to put in the other cause i was thirsty. The first machine would not give me my change. So I was forced to get a Rice Krispies Treat instead. So while my mouth was snap, crackle, and poppin, my throat was turning into sandpaper. Good times.

Last but not least, makeshift handymen are hilarious. Take my steppops. He's been fixing our bathroom for the last....hmmm.....month and change. Hasn't even finished the shower yet. Just now, he was hammering, and suddenly i heard him say, "Goddamit!....Shit!....Muthafucka!!" with like thirty angry grunts in between. It was like something out of a bad porno, BDSM style. So I'm laughing. Wrong? No. The golden rule for stepparents is as follows: They get NO sympathy.