Could be worse. Could be raining.

The weather BLOWS ASSHOLE. It is cold and blustery and pouring.

The Ball is next Friday and I still have no dress. Plus, I'm kind starting to freak out about flying to North Carolina to go to a ball with someone I've never met before. This is so not like me. I mean, seriously.

My stress is compounded exponentially because of the ass load of shit I have going on this week. I am trying to "perspectify" because I am just a lowly undergrad and God only knows what kind of fiery baptism I'm going to have to endure in graduate school, BUT, I won't GET to grad school if I don't pull my stuff together this year. I think I've given myself a stomach ulcer.

SO, I have three tests and a twenty five page paper on Kosovo this week. This is the type of shit that gets me labeled a recluse. ALL of my phone conversations have gone something like this.....
Phone: ring ring ring
Me: Hello
Cleo(my good friend for as long as I can remember who is married and has a baby and finds my company entertaining): what are you doing?
Me: well, I just cleaned the entire house and organized my dining room table in preparation for study time or as I like to refer to it "the big cram".
Cleo: Oh. Wanna come over and watch the Bachelor?
Me: ....
Cleo: Fine. Will you call me when your to the blue highlighter?
(I color code my notes in order of importance with highlighters, blue is reserved for last and least important information...yes, I realize how absessive this is)
Me: well, after that I'm proofreading my paper again.
Cleo: why are you such a whacko?
Me: I think it has something to do with being the oldest of four children.

So, I've been locked in my house wondering if its possible to actually become less intelligent as the years roll by. Hmmm. Surely something fun and happy will come along soon enough and I can get out of this scarcastic rut I've been stuck in since puberty. Then again, maybe not.