"This Library is Not an Appropriate Place to Host a Christmas Party"

If you have ever been to college, or are currently attending college, then you know just how SIDEWAYS your ass gets thrown during the most stressful 3-5 days of a semester: FINALS WEEK!

I personally thrive on the excitement of all night aderral binges - cramming for tests over material you are completely clueless about -because no matter how many fucks you gave, accounting just never seemed to matter anyway. However, others do not share my enjoyment. This semester's library trip has been quite the interesting one. With my university's library being busier than a Vegas brothel on valentine's day, you can imagine how frustrating even finding a table to calmly sit and study at would be. Finally finding a perfect, quiet, well respected corner on the first floor, I cannot even open my notes until I am immediately disturbed by the setting up of the apparent fucking Christmas party in front of me. Yes, you read correctly... CHRISTMAS PARTY! IN LIBRARY! .....a;lsiugapgihwpoieagh;sdoigh!!!

Don't get me wrong... I love me some Crimuhh (new age hipster lingo for winter holiday celebrating birth of conventional Christian celebrity Jesus Christ) but of alllll the fucking places in this town to host a Christmas party, you assholes choose the library? Like, go to a fucking Starbucks you hooligan! A Dunkin' Donuts would even suffice for Christ's sake [no religious pun intended].

As the tables and chairs get pushed together, the casseroles unwrapped, and the gatorade coolers of coffee and tea propped up, I notice signs are being painted... SIGNS! FOR THEIR PARTY! Several moments later, much to my surprise, the girl with the mormon hair whips out a pair of roller skates, straps up, and makes the first floor of the library her personal roller rink. By now my face is glued wide in astonishment, as the chubby hipster guy straps on his in-line skates, and I am seconds away from psychotic screams of rage. Eventually I discover that it is NOT a Christmas party after all, it is some group of idiots calling themselves "Finals Friends" or some shitty alliteration of the sort. They are skating around the library advertising free coffee and snacks. What... the actual.. FUCK are you doing with your lives?! Do you not have finals? must be nice. Are you the local youth outreach program? If so their are crackheads and dumpster babies downtown that probably need your "snacks" more than we do.

Go away. Let me study. I am JUST trying to get a degree here people!!

Ironically enough, the campus police show up to order a cease and desist because according to the laws of this fine institution, you cannot give away free shit in a library that makes a reasonable profit off of it's coffe shops. SO SUCK ON THAT HIPSTERS!

Anyway.. I digress. I need to return to my studies, which are proving more difficult courtesy of the greasy banana troll next to me who keeps snorting and picking his boogers. But I will spare him a blog post rant and let me contract Hepatitis at his own pace.

Love, Peace, and Finals Week bitches!

Your Facebook Status Is Not A Prayer To God

Summer is drawing to an end, and so I return to blogging, pardon my absence - it's been a long one. I return with a pressing issue that faces many tweens, pre-teens, and youngster social network users and abusers. It seems that lately I have noticed many youthful facebookers and tweeters have decided that instead of keeping their worries and woes to themselves, they will just post their latest sally sob story on their preffered social website of choice. While we are all guilty of complaining online from time to time [pause for presently ironic realization] about our ups and downs, you my child have got some serious confusion about you, and your religous practice understandings.

No one really needs to see that you are upset that your BFF4L Cindy is being hospitalized for a mild, and perfectly treatable, case of bronchitis. Cindy will pull through this just fine without you sqwaking her business across the internet. Calm down tot, your friends gonna be alright. I don't think any one in the modern world should deem this type of internet usage appropriate. I mean, are you trying to use your computer as a conduit to Christ now? I think he can hear you just fine in the silence of your mid-pubescant brain.

I'm going to avoid veering off into a religious direction because no one likes to read anything fueled by someones political/religious bias. That's just pandering. But what I WILL do is tell you that your profile is bullshit. When every other status you post is about this cousin/friend/aunt/cat/chinese delivery man who's had some ill fate befall them... you begin to sound pretensious, like YOU have taken it upon yourself to be the local ePriest, or hell, the next "Dear Abby." Wel your not. You're a 14 year old prima donna sitting at your computer in your double wide with your prepaid Nokia cell phone in one hand and your GigaPet in the other, using your online profile to beg someone to pay you attention at the expense of someone elses misfortunes. Like, when you finally type out exactly what you want to say about Susie's car accident and how you hope she gets well soon... do you feel better about yourself? Because I sure don't.

Stop crying out loud, you're accomplishing nothing by telling Jonny "he will pull through this tragic roller coaster of bad fortune" on the internet. Do yourself, Jonny, and the rest of the people who's eyes you stab out daily, a huge favor... and go tell Jonny your fucking self!!

aaaaaannnndd... I digress.

Good day to you all.

The Dance Floor is Not Your Therapist

How severe do your "lack-of-daddy's-love" issues need to be for you to act like a whorish kangaroo at a bar? Do you realize what you look like to the general crowd? I am a strong supporter of getting liquored up and cutting loose, but you miss, are just an eye sore for a blind man. Stop asking me to buy you shots, the drool coming from your mouth while you talk is unattractive and reminds me of a semi-sedated ostrich. If you cannot party responsibly, then don't party at all. And by responsibly, I am referring to the responsibility you have to your dignity - which you clearly whittle down to a sliver as soon as your lips touch the tequila bottle.

Even better is when you start shouting loudly for people to join you on the dance floor. At least you KNOW being alone and looking like a loser is shameful. If you keep twirling your head around you are going to break your neck, much like a giraffe would when he fights off other giraffes. If it is attention you are seeking, you got it. But the attention you are getting is about the same kind of attention a nurse would give to a paraplegic lesbian who's overdosed on Splenda.

Good luck to you in your future endeavors miss. Running into you last night truly was worth the three dollars I paid to get into the bar that you clearly have confused for a mosh pit.

There's No Polite Way to Say 'Shut the HELL UP!'

Haven't written in a while, but there are just some things you come across that you just have to bitch about to someone. Maybe it was my prolonged hangover from too much liquor chugging on sunday funday or maybe it was because it was a Monday, either way I was more annoyed than a paraplegic with an itch on his nose.

Example Numero One: Why do you feel the need, while pumping gas, to leave your convertible top down and your music blasting as loud as possible. We don't care that you are renting a nice car for the week... we also have already heard "Look at Me Now" enough to know its a good song, you aren't doing anyone any favors. And when I hold the door for you at said gas station, I don't care if you're on the phone, say thank you and then Shut the hell Up.

Example B: I think at age 70 you should no longer be allowed to operate a vehicle. If you can barely poop on your own then you obviously don't need to be driving your hyundai on the highway cutting people (me) off right and left going 35 in a 55. Take your vitamins, drink your prune juice, and stay in your damn house. And the next time you decide to drive and I run my car into the back of yours, it most certainly isn't because I'M a bad driver...

Any way, I'm over it. I need to quit writing now because I have a lottery addiction I need to go fuel. Gas station scratch-offs here I come!

Currently Listening To: Cameras by Matt & Kim

Currently Watching: Game of Thrones (aka coolest show on HBO right now)