Cantakerous Mariss

I'm in dire need of some time management skills. It was only a few days ago that I found myself reveling in the sheer enjoyment of finally having no tests to study for, no essays to write, nothing more to do than lie in bed with my remote control and some iced coffee. Fast forward: Bio Lab report due tomorrow, as well as a modern interpretative presentation of Hamlet all before noon. Stats test Monday, Sexuality test Tuesday and Sociology 202 test on Thursday, not to mention the huge project due November 11th I neglected all semester. Do you smell something burning? Yeah, that'd be me.

And on top of that, it's near impossible to walk around campus without hearing the giddy banter of students alike who are recieving their financial aid checks this week. Good for you, I think to myself, as I'm pocketing a chicken wrap from the cafeteria. Yes, I am too poor to afford lunch and here are a bunch of kids whose parents cheated the systems getting $1000 checks for slacking off in school. I've maintained my 3.5, thank you, but that doesn't mean I can afford the damn tuition. I'm pissed. I couldn't even afford some of my books for class. But one of my teachers, being a sweetheart, put a special reserve copy for me in the library. Too bad "reserve" means it has to stay in the library, meanwhile I have an open-book test that I have no book to open during. Y'know what I say to that? Three words: FAB-U-LOUS. It's not my fault my dad made too much money last year. It's not like he's paying for it. I am. I'm the one with the loans under my belt after this whole college fiasco. That's a pantload o' money I ain't got.

The holidays, or rather, as I call them, the holidon'ts, are rapidly approaching. Maybe that's why I'm so irritable. There's nothing I hate more than seeing a display of dancing candy corn singing showtunes than seeing a jolly black santa right next to him, dancing along, shakin' his groove thang. If your name is on my Christmas list, I suggest you hold out for your gift from me until after the holidon'ts, when the malls are cleared and the returned-reject gifts are piled on the clearance tables outside of the stores. Don't be suprised if you get a beat-up looking cookie tray with a chocolate smear on it or a teddy bear with ripped appendages holding a construction paper heart that says "You're beary special!" I'm really going to put some thought into my gifts this year. Hopefully the Salvation Army has alot to choose from. And if not, I suppose I could just make my presents again, like last year. Anyone for a reindeer made out of pipe cleaners and sequins? No? Howabout a half-assed knitted potholder with your initials on it?

Either way, you're scrooged.