once again, the confluence of details baffles me and i don't know what to think. the wire and dead meadow? hunh.

government is so stupid; i participated more than anyone else, and i was doing my geology homework and not taking notes. *kills self*

actually, i think *kills self* is in my notes too. minute doodle was ignored except for the beginning and end of class. motherfucker, it's over at 6:55, not 6:57. who gives a flying fuck about cooperative federalism? *stabs* why the colorful ninth-grade props? *stabs*

*STABS*

vengeance is mine!

a perfectly serviceable potato leek soup can be made without an immersion blender! or a blender! in a too-large quantity! with the aid of just a whisk! (and maybe some small spoonful of thick dairy product just before eating, but that's neither here nor there.)

i'm free from the tyranny of recipes! for at least a day or two, until i get another bug in my ear.

hmm

i get home nearly as quickly from school on tuesdays if i wait for the 5, or if i take the infectious-disease 1 and walk from lamar and koenig.

it takes me ten minutes to peel five medium-sized potatoes with a paring knife, but half an hour to dice them.

i've never read farther ahead for school before, and it makes the lectures really tiresome if they're going by the book.

we are north american scum! *waggles booty*

goddamnit

why do the supply and demand curves make me dyslexic? life is going to be rough if i can't get when the curves shift left and right depending on change in factors of the entire relationship. i'll be trying to find the equilibrium point all week, people.

why i love the economist

link

it's the only magazine i have a subscription to, and not just because my dad pays for it. he used to get me newsweek, that horrible little rag that's usa today in weekly format.

stuff 'n' things 'n' shit

first of all, i would like to address my fellow ACC mouthbreathers. i'm not paying the opportunity cost of going to school and doing penance at the county instead of working a REAL JOB with benefits and retirement and SHIT just so i can spend my evenings with you, who have recently discovered that it's not high school and you can so totally drop the f-bomb during discussion in class. it's fucking english composition UNO. go mouth off to a cop already. i hope he beats you stupid, although he'd have to be robocop to have a chance at making you stupider than you already are. our new words today were... uh... i dunno. i doodled those goddamn mine cars all over the paper. no! i also wrote snarky asides on the new yorker essay he read aloud in class, and did the crossword and sudoku. then he read some other shit in class that i had just heard an hour ago in government, and attempted to impress with his ME recitation of the opening of canterbury tales. *snzzxxngh* i'm thirty years old and getting assigned journal entries about ability, and persuasive essays. at this point i'd rather have a cleveland steamer. or some-many-lots, if that would allow me to test out of this crap.

second, i will rise to the implicit challenge, and serve you with a thirteen-year-old lipogram. it's been edited for my one mistake, which made it a B. otherwise, all capitalization or lack thereof is in the original version. i'll tell you my mistake, and try another one if you can tell me what this assignment was based on - i can't remember, though i have a pretty fucking good guess that i won't look up.

Angst in Jutland

how glorious to succumb to a fatal malady of animation, a dissolution of soul's blood if I could but quit this animal stagnation and jaunt off to twilit Stygian banks, dismiss all aggravations in this world - how I would favor this option. Crack of doom, land upon my skull! I will not submit to your atrocity and wanton ways. blight of lustful matriarchs, conniving patriarchs, crafty maids and family, may you burn in that world of hot light of truth. Paragons of fault, any fascination with your shallow pool of illusion is fallacy. I watch you show your subconscious man. You think your craft fools all, your titan bullyboy vision. All you unmask is your puny homunculus disposition, viscount of nothing. A foul zonda blows with grim stygian flows. Charon motions, but I still stand. What lands did prior colonists find on that far bank? I know no sagas. My t-shirt says 'no thanatophobia,' but I think I'll stay in my asylum.

yeah, i don't really need a comp class, or a government class where he summarizes the book and shouts random words and thumps the desk as people sitting in the front desks continue to nap. i could have spent the last four and a half hours on one chapter of macro.

so, in my hunt for that fucking piece of paper, i had to rummage through the time capsule of mold. awesome and gross. set lists, school correspondence, SAT test results from 1995, old university IDs, letters from people i don't even know are alive or not, writing ideas i never used, an austin map from 1983, hundreds of old pay stubs... i threw all the ruined eightballs and optic nerves away, and saved this unreadable shit that's dried together? the fuck's wrong with me?

i did invent a new game for government tonight, however. ACC has installed a campus alert system in some of the classrooms, and usually it just tells the time in eight-inch-high digital numbers. you can sort of look like you're paying attention, but you're really playing minute doodle! you simply figure out how many more fucking minutes you'll have to sit there, write it down, and incorporate the number into a doodle. better make it quick and good, because the number of minutes is about to change and you'll have to start a new one. it totally rules. plus i was angry because i skipped it last week, did some reading during breaks at work today, and was TWO FUCKING CHAPTERS ahead of lecture. dirty whores. just give me all the assignments now so i don't have to do any work in two months. jesus fuck.

i don't have anything else.

dear computer, stop freezing, i hate you

GODDAMN FUCKING SCABROUS BLEEDING WHORE OF A COMPUTER. I PUNCH YOU IN YOUR FESTERING LESIONS RIDDLED WITH MAGGOTS AND OOZING PUS. I KICK YOU IN YOUR BLOATED LUMPEN ASS, CRUSTED OVER WITH A SLUDGE OF FECAL MATTER, DRIED SEMEN, CHEAP STRAWBERRY-SCENTED LUBE, AND ALLEY OOZE.

if i get chills when reading the economics degree plan for a B.A. at ut, should i:
a) decide this is my future, print it out on an oversize printer, wheatpaste it to my wall, and zealously overacheive for the next several years;
b) freak out at the intellectual magnitude and stick to the original idea of becoming a business major/tool; or
c) turn up the heat in my apartment?

huh

so, of course, in macro today, he discussed the economic ramifications of legalizing cocaine and heroin. that, and his boring lecture summarizing the first two chapters of the book, made today's attendance a disappointment.

on the flipside, i had an overly exhaustive and hilarious-to-me conversation about joo's wedding on the bus ride home, and i dicked around with tables in m$ word for two hours at work, instead of doing whatever dumb shit everyone else was doing.

we may have to do the logic & analysis testing again, because some genius dropped off the ballot. it's public though, i think... you can come hang out and watch a bunch of temporary employees vote every single permutation of the ballot, and make highlighter marks on sucky spreadsheets. democracy in action! get out the ivote! le sigh. or you can at least make sure you're still registered to vote, based on these allegations. personally, i'm not sure if i'm even voting in this primary. i don't like flipping through the VR book and seeing a party listed with my name. i've shredded, and snooped, old ones before. it makes me feel uncomfortable, like sitting on a slightly-too-large anal plug. i would tell you who i sorta like for the primaries, but i think i'm not supposed to because of work. so i won't. well, orally i could have some sort of deniability.

also, i can't decide which nazz hit i like better, open my eyes or hello it's me