You know what? Fuck essays, dude. These are my worst when it comes to assignments. I just don't give a fuck!!! End of story.
I'm not going to do it. 50 points? Fuck that. I'll just think of it as 50 cents can't even get me a bag of potato chips anymore these days. I'll just show up to class tomorrow with absolutely nothing, while wearing sweat pants and foamy loafer slippers, a wool coat and maybe a sandwich or two and a Starbucks beverage. Then take the test in five minutes. And then take huge bites off of my sandwich (panini, to be exact) while taking huge sips of a grande-sized mocha frappuchino. Because you know, that classroom is very cold. Oh yeah, and I would need a pen. A green one, that is. Black and blue are boring. Not to mention that that is also a Backstreet Boys album.
Many times it takes me all night to do them. Not the actual writing and flipping through my notes part; but the part where I actually motivate myself to sit down, think straight, and write the fucking thing. Can't you just give me a fucking A+ judging by my ethnicity? I have black hair and long eyes - I can't be stupid. Give me a fucking A. Of course, I wouldn't be able to pull that off in Asia - where everybody almost looks exactly the same; unlike in America or Europe, where there is at least variation in hair and eye color. But Asia? No. We all have brown eyes and black hair. Every single one of us. I guess everybody else but me likes to fuck someone who looks exactly like them except for the lack of chi chi's, hair length, and genital differences. Fucking boring lot of you, I swear.
Do you know what one of the greatest movies of all time is? Splash. I love that movie.
I am really in the mood for Starbucks or some caffeinated beverage of some sort. Real sugary and real bad for you - that's how I eat.
So I was invited to do absinthe on Friday by a buddy chum. Yes, a "he" friend, in case you haven't noticed that pattern here in the last entry or two. But the thing is, I have to work. And trying to get out at the last minute while trying to make up a phony excuse is extremely fishy according to my mom. Jesus fucking Christ! This is absinthe that we're talking about here. I should be there, not square. I am seriously going to regret this lack of even remotely trying to get hammered on absinthe(!!!!!) in the future, because 90% says that I absolutely cannot get out of work without getting out of the house safely and my mom thinking that I'm doing something legit.
Every, every time that I go out, she says, "NO DRINKING!!! O' I CUT OWFF YOW HEAD!" Even if I'm simply just going to an innocent Superbowl party (for the food, not the stupidass game) at a friend's house where her parents are present. All I did that night was OD on pigs in a blanket, cinnamon squares, iced tea, chips, salsa, and who knows what the fuck else that I can't remember.
Yes, momma is worried about little ol' me. But the fact that she literally resembles Adolf Hitler whenever she's angry isn't exactly what we could call "necessary." I don't respect Hitlers of any sort. Not even Kitler. I'd kick that goddamn motherfucker if I ever met it in person.
That is one sinister-looking pussy.
(Besides Axl Rose, of course.)
Christina N. @ 11:30 PM
