Feeling: frustrated
Listening to: John Mayer - '83
Reading/Watching: magazines.

It's about thirty degrees outside, still raining, and my lights are flickering. I'm sitting here, praying for school to be canceled.

You see, I have a class at 8 a.m. tomorrow, so I'd like to know ahead of time if I get to sleep in. I'd rather not get up, shower, dress, walk over there, climb three flights of stairs, and then see a note on the door, or some such nonsense. Because then I'm up, crabby, unable to nap, with nowhere to go.

I could easily pretend I thought it was canceled (rumors to that effect were circulating everywhere), and hope my professor doesn't count me absent, but as is the case with all classes that I can't stand and think are pointless, he is an ancient troll of a man and I know he will count it if I'm not there. Plus I just don't have the innocent look or the ability to bat my eyes just so, and convince males of all ages to do whatever I ask.

Although sometimes I can arm-wrestle them into submission.

In that vein, why do all guys in my orbit seem to go for the girls that are four-foot-eleven-and-three-(hopeful)-quarters of an inch tall? Why do they like the girls that are cute and childlike and have the bone structure of a hummingbird?

Why can't they be attracted to outspoken amazonian redheads who are built like freight trains instead?

Wait, I just answered my own question.

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