Pie is tasty and delicious.

So, I've ultimately decided that I'm going to e-mail the people that I want to work for and ask if they will accept an application. I think that if they freak out, then they're bitches, and I don't want to work for bitches. I've had my fair amount of experience with that. So perhaps tomorrow that will be done...can't happen now, I don't want to send them a drug influenced e-mail, cause I think that would do poorly in terms of getting me hired, which is the ultimate goal.

My blanket is really cool. I have three of the stripes done and I'm starting on the fourth. The amazing part is that I'm not sick of it yet. I wonder how long it will take.

And my shoulder is hurty-bad. I'm hoping to have a good long sleep so that the hurty-ness will at least not be noticed for that time. To expedite the process, I took two tylenol PM with my night-time anti-inflammatory. Yum. Sidenote: Really, really need to remember to eat something with the anti-inflammatory, cause otherwise, it makes me really dizzy and I fall over a lot, and thats just not attractive.

Philosophy speaker tomorrow afternoon. I'm excited.

So, again, it's two a.m. and I can't sleep, so I might as well write another journal entry...I mean, I do have a rather interesting life, eh?

Badminton today killed my shoulder. KILLED. Oh the pain. I can tell that the vicodin has kicked in from my funny head feeling, but I'm still pretty uncomfortable. Perhaps I'll go get a bag of ice for it in a bit. In other news, to fulfil my gloating quota for the day, I should mentioned that I dominated Nikki with my cock-handling skills on the badminton court today. However, we must now pull together, as we're going to be partners for the doubles tournament in our class. It seems strange to me that our teacher put us together...how did that happen?

I finally found the yarn that I needed for the blanket that I started last night after visiting four(yes, FOUR) craft stores. I mean, you know I love craft stores just as much as the next person, and probably more, but when I want one thing, I want to find it and be done with it. Of course, the store that has it has to be the one that is all the way across town. Oh well. I think that my blanket is really neat and it seems to be working up really well. My suitemates think it looks good too...either that, or they are lying to me. I'm kind of addicted to it right now, I just want to keep working on it. It's about the width of a twin-sized bed, and right now I've worked it to probably about four inches long. I know, not very much, but I put my first color change in (I've never done a color change before) and it's beginning to look like the start of a blanket and not like, well, a string anymore. For those of you who haven't seen it, its a ripple blanket in red, purple, and blue in a slightly fuzzy yarn. It will be cozy and happy.

I did glass etching as a fellowship event for APO tonight. I think that it went well, the only problem for me is that after a while the smell of the etching cream made me want to vomit. But you know, sometimes you have to suffer for craftyness. One of the girls asked me though, and it made me wonder, what made me so crafty? I don't know, I like to make things and I like to try new things, but I really don't understand what made me such a crafty person. I think that before I worked at Birch Trail, where they stuck me in the arts and crafts barn for 5 of my 6 periods, I didn't really think about it that much. But after two summers as A&C director at Swift, I just seem to think that I'm pretty damn crafty. I like to make stuff. I think that I'm different than other people about it. A lot of the people were really worried about doing something wrong with the etching cream. I mean it is pretty caustic acid, but seriously, the first time I did it, I stuck some stickers on, slapped it on the glass and just let it sit. Miraculously, it turned out ok. I must just have some sort of 'crafty instinct.'

Vicodin-inspired statement: I am so craftacular.

Today's Random Musings:

"I don't understand vegans. I mean, everyone likes cheese. They even make medicines for people who can't eat cheese so that they can. Yeah, cheese is good."

"Dude, if you're a bitch, you don't get a bathroom. It makes sense to me."

"I do have special dietary needs. I need pie."

"Crystal light is like crack, but it comes in fun fruit flavors."

"You should come, I'm going to hammer a lot and probably yell some."

"Cry? Fine. I don't fucking care. You still don't get a Snickers bar."

Vicodin sure takes the edge off...it also takes the ideas out of my head.

I had a brilliant idea for my political thought class. BRILLIANT. (Which probably means that Dr. Simeone will think it sucks, but boo to him.) Anyways, absolutely genius idea. However, I know cannot remember this idea due to the influence of the Vicodin. It's sorta there, just all foggy, and the more that I try to think about it, the foggier it gets and it makes me angry and I just want to scream but Nikki is asleep and if I wake her up she will probably freak out and maybe pee, which will make Jessies stuff gross and then Jessie will hate me and Nikki will to because no one likes to pee the bed and then both of my roommates will hate me and even worse, I will STILL have no idea for the paper that is due at 4 PM and not only will I have to live in the Harriet hallway, but I will fail my theory class and I will not graduate and that would be really, really bad. I think that was a run-on sentence but I'm too druggy to fix it, so if you're confused, fuck you, it makes sense in my head. So if anyone has any good ideas for an essay about the third dimension of power, let me know now, because I need something of some value quickly. Damn it, I should have been a philosophy major and then I wouldn't have to deal with this bullshit. I remember when I thought that Dr. Simeone was a good guy. Funny how your perception of people comes more clearly when you've been on drugs for a while. I should have paid more attention to all the seniors who took Con Law II with me when I was a sophomore, and I never would have gotten myself into this mess.

Meanwhile, I'm also obsessing about this job that I want to apply for. The website has positions for the 04-05 season up, which ends in the beginning of May. I want to apply for the season that will start this October, and I'd like to get it done before I go to camp so I don't have to worry about getting references and doing phone interviews while I'm there, since I have three jobs and will probably be busy enough without any other shit. So basically, I want to e-mail them and ask them if they will accept an application this early. The problem is, crazy, paranoid freak that I am, I worry that I will be bothering them during a busy season and they will be annoyed and not want to hire me even though I will have excellent references and would be perfect for the job. However, another part of me says that they will think that I am good because I am planning so far ahead and that I must really want the job. Anyways, I want advice on this. Serious advice, aimed for the paranoid freak that I am. I'm absolutely going to decide what to do based on what people tell me, so weigh in.

Ok, I'm bored and have really nothing to do, besides write a bunch of papers that I am avoiding, so I figured that I might as well update my journal, since I hadn't done so in a year, though I really don't have much to say...I have a boring life.

Unlike all the people who spent their spring break getting tan, I spent it at my doctors and in an interesting Vicodin induced state. Finally got an MRI on my shoulder, and the docs say that I have tendonitis of doom and maybe an impingement...fun. I'm taking the enormous pills twice a day, and they don't make me sick, which is good, but they make me kinda dizzy so I tend to stumble around a lot. Great, make all of my professors think that I'm a drunkard. Actually, it will probably only be Dr. Simeone who thinks that I'm a drunkard, but thats just because he doesn't like me and told me that I was a prescription pain killer junkie. He can suck it.

I got a new car over break, its pretty and shiny and green and most importantly, it has power locks and windows, and a cd player. I am a happy camper.

I don't know what took me so long, but I discovered last night that bagels are DELICIOUS. Absolutely fucking delicious. Seriously, its just like bread, but so much better. Also, I spent like ten minutes at the grocery store looking at cream cheese and then just got the plain kind. But seriously, there were too many flavors and I was confused. I think that next time I will get the cheesecake flavor. MMMM...cheesecake.

I think that my brother is weird. In the beginning of January, we got him a brand new loft bed with a desk and drawers and such, and my mom and I put it together with an ice pick and a meat mallet. (Thats style....its that kind of improvisation that I learned being a camp counselor.) He slept in it until this weekend, and now he has decided to sleep on the floor underneath it in a sleeping bag. Who does that. And he claims the floor is more comfortable. Fess up, bitches, who's been selling my brother the crack?

Finally, it's snowing outside....a lot. And it is sticking to the ground too. What is up with this bullshit. Seriously, not in the mood for snow. It's the bloody end of march, it should NOT be snowing anymore, and it should be at least 50 degrees out. Global warming my ass...more like global freeze the fuck out of Janelle like its funny. Newsflash: It's not funny. I am through with this bullshit. THROUGH.

Dr. Munro sent our travel course the following email. I think that it's funny....

Folks:
For those of you who have not been concentrating: we leave THIS
Thursday
from MIDWAY airport. Please be there BY 1.30pm. We will meet at the
Delta
Airlines Ticket Counter on the upper level.
And PLEASE don't forget to bring your PASSPORT.
I look forward to seeing you then.
WAM



Awwww....I heart Dr. Munro.

This entry is going to be short. And shitty. Shitty cause that's how I'm feeling right now.

I'm sick. I DO NOT have a cold, like the health services lady told me. I obviously have something else. It's called the hacking up green phlegm, coughing uncontrollably, shallow, raspy breathing disease. I think that I'm going to go to the doctor tomorrow, and maybe he can give me a better name for this disease. Until then...I'll be sleeping in a chair...can't lay down, I cough to much.

On a side note...7 days to Atlanta, 8 days to Cape Town...I MUST get better!

There comes a point in studying where you realize either that a)Studying more is not worth it, or b)You don't give a fuck anymore. Luckily for me, these two conclusions came in tandem at approximately 4:30 at Ames. Let me tell you, it was a damn cold walk back, which is why I'm writing this now, cause I was rudely awakened by the bitter cold.

Since it was so much fun thinking about it for me, I thought I'd share this with you.

My List of Things I Don't Give a Fuck About Right Now
(Note: This list should not be interpreted to be things that I have never cared about and/or things I will not care about in the future. In fact, I have most likely cared about, and will care about all of the things on this list, however, right now, frankly, I don't care about much.)

Godel's Incompleteness Theorem
Intuitionist Proof Systems
Proof Calculus
The Soundness Theorem
Classical versus Constructionist Logic
Affirmative Action
School Segregation
Drug Trafficking
Murder and Inheritance
Assisted Suicide
Homosexual Marriage/Civil Unions
Sodomy
Abortion
Birth Control
Rights to Privacy
Antonin Scalia
The Entire Supreme Court, especially Scalia
Ronald Dworkin
H.L.A. Hart
Law
Originalism
Semi-Automatic Weapons
Cocaine
The Resolution Calculus
Morals
Rules of Inference
Obligation
First-Order Logic
Turing Machines
Abstract Algebra

I have never meant "Fuck this shit." as much as I do now.

Fuck this shit.

Ok, I'm going to be honest. A lot of times, I'm really bitchy. Sometimes, maybe even excessively bitchy.

This is not one of those times. This is one of those times where I am going to be justifiably bitchy. Read this entry with the knowledge that I have a semester-full of pent up aggression, and it's all coming out now.

People who know me from last summer know that I may be a little bit freakish about peanut allergies. I just don't think that anaphylactic shock is a fun thing. So when I went to a planning meeting about this overnight with beth, and they mentioned having the girls make their own snack mix, I warned them about getting things with peanuts. What's on the snack table when we show up? Honey-roasted peanuts and M&Ms. BOTH HAVE PEANUTS. Thanks for listening to me Girl Scout people. I understand though. I mean, my IQ is only 160, so I'm sure that I'm just not smart enough for my concerns to matter. Anyway, sure enough, we have a girl with peanut allergies, and what does the mom do? Come straight over to the snack table, which Beth and Molly and I are supervising, and bitch at us. Excuse me hooker face? Bitch at me. Recall from previous entries that I look like I'm 12. Why the hell are you yelling at me? Do I look like I'm in charge? I think not. Anyways, the Mom proceded to bitch at the Girl Scout office people, then pack her daughter out. Girl Scout hookers, I don't want to say that I told you so, but damn it, I did.

On a side note, how good of an idea is it to give kids this mixture of food before they go swimming? Probably not so good. And don't even get me started on the food mixing. Y'all know how I feel about that.

Next BRILLIANT idea courtesy of the geniuses at the Girl Scout office. We did this icebreaker activity where you paperclipped a paper plate to each girl's back and everyone went around and wrote stuff on it. I'll get to what I think about that in a minute. So what do they provide to write on the paper plates? SHARPIES! Dumbasses. That's just what we want, nine year olds having sharpie wars. Fuckers. You work with children. At WalMart they stock this wonderful invention. It's called WASHABLE MARKERS. They are good for situations where small children are likely to get marker on their clothes. Situations exactly like this one. As for the effectiveness of the icebreaker. While in general things of this function well as an activity, I think that their functionality depends on how well the group knows each other. Sure, when you don't know someone, you can write something nice about their hair or their clothes, but I personally do not agree with that type of 'appearance-based' focus, especially with pre-teen girls.

So we finished all that fun stuff, and we were going to go swimming. I'm just going to say that the locker-room brought out all of the OCD in me. Besides that, lets just say that if you don't know how to swim, the YWCA is not the place to go. The lifeguards there seemed a bit sub-par and were easily distracted, which put me on super-paranoia mode for the whole time. Matt, I know you read this sometimes, so this is directed at you. If Jen is going to teach you how to swim, don't let her do it there, cause if you start sinking, and she can't pull you up, I can't be sure that their guards are going to either.

Backtracking a little bit. Before the girls went swimming, they had to get dressed and everything. Where did the Girl Scout people have them put their clothes? Back in the room that we were staying in. That's right. So after we got them out of the pool, we had to lead a bunch of dripping, shivering girls all the way back to the room, where they got their clothes, all the while dripping all over the floor that they were going to sleep on and everyone else's stuff. Another brilliant one.

Then we had pizza, which was, by my standards, of sub-par quality at best. Note: It's probably not a good idea to give nine and ten year old children caffinated beverages at 10:30 at night. Probably not a good idea at all. Fucking morons. Furthermore, it's probably also not a good idea to give the same children like ten pieces of pizza each when their going to bed soon.

Then they wanted to do all this hair-doing shit. When they talked about this, I told them that I couldn't do it. I just can't. Reading a sheet is not going to make me learn. I know how to read, I do not know how to do hair. That's why my hair is always in a ponytail. I'm not a girly-whore. I don't know how to do girly-whore things. It was your program idea, how about you get your face away from the pizza box, and come over and give us a fucking hand, because like I told you, I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE HOW TO DO THIS.

But anyway, then we got the girls to lay down, and put on some Mary Kate and Ashley hellfire classic. Don't get me started with that. I went out into the hallway to caffiene-up (Thank God for diet coke.) and get ready to study.

I woke up the girls the next morning by singing. A fun time was had by all.

One more thing: Molly is a SAINT. A FREAKING SAINT. (I didn't feel right putting fuck in the same sentence as saint.)

So I took this quiz on quizilla, and it says that I have a black heart. I think that may be a little bit excessive...I have emotions, damn it, its not like I'm nikki. Bitches have feelings too. This is depressing...I'm done taking quizzes for now.

Like I said, maybe I'm a bitter, vindictive bitch. But I don't know that I would go as far as to say that my heart is black. Would you?