Here I am. Life swallowed me whole recently and I just now got pooped out. Well that's not true. Im still consumed by my pseudo-dramatic life as a neurotic college student. Im just shitty with metaphors.
On new years eve I got really wasted while crafting and burned a huge hole in my hand with a hot glue gun. Moral= don't drink and craft. Simple as that kids.
Moving on. Today was the first day of winter term. My spanish professor never showed up so im hoping the class didn't get canceled bc that would suck major balls. Then I discovered that my media writing class is actually journalism undercover. I hate journalism. I mean, I assumed that the class would cover journalism, but the professor decided it was journalism 101. Pft.
Irony= two days after my best friend, whom I live with and would die for, got a tattoo commemorating our amazing friendship, I found out she couldn't keep one of my biggest secrets she vowed to take to the grave.
