Ugggghhhh.
Guys.
It is still so cold outside. It is March. It is not supposed to be cold. There is not supposed to be snow on the ground right now.
Spring break is next week. This is the opposite of okay. I refuse to call it spring break. It is late winter break.
Ah, well. It's not like I'm going anywhere or doing anything for spring late winter break anyway. I plan on chilling in my apartment and maybe replaying Mass Effect for, like, the eight time. I don't know. I should try to do something productive, like work on the book I'm writing or, I don't know, homework or something.
I guess I can go to the bars? Or something? I am 21 now. That is a thing I can do.
Speaking of my whole being-21-thing, I went to the casino again this weekend. I went in with twenty bucks and left with fifty! Yay! I now have enough extra money to either pay, like, half of my power bill or to buy two pizzas!
It's really hard to order a pizza when you live alone, though. Because when the delivery guys comes to the door it's like I'm admitting, yes I do plan on eating literally a whole pizza by myself. Do you have a problem with that? There's a negative stigma that comes with eating a pizza by yourself, guys.
Usually, I'll do something like play netflix loudly in the other room or turn the shower on or something and yell "oh, pizza's here!" to make it seem like I have another person to assist me in my pizza-eating.
It's a lot of effort just to get a pizza. Usually, I just don't order pizza and instead eat lots of cereal. And waffles. And french toast sticks. I live primarily off of breakfast foods.
Meh.
I'm still disappointed about my super-lame spring late winter break plans. All of the other college kids are like "I'm going to Florida!" or "I'm going to some island somewhere!" And I'm over here in my stir fry corner like "I'm going to Fishers...maybe...if I can get a ride..."
I need a car. And money. And also friends. I feel like all three of those things would be me improve in the long run. As a human.
In Major news (see that's a pun because it's important news and also news about my major), I've been considering several different things to do. I need to finish this degree first...duh. I've sunk three years and several thousand dollars into this stupid thing. But once I'm done...I don't know. I don't particularly want to work with criminals? And also sociology isn't a degree that I can actually get a job in.
So...I need a Master Plan (see that's a pun because it might involve a master's degree). A Master Plan that involves knowing what I actually want to do. My Master Plan most likely involves going to...wait for it...grad school! Or law school. One of those two things.
Or I could just say screw it, drop out now and go to live in Canada. I had a dream I moved to Canada. It was pretty happy there. Maybe I should move to Canada guys. Maybe it's a sign. I love breakfast food, they have maple syrup.
Granted, it's cold there literally all the time.
So...maybe that isn't a thing I should do?
You know, I've typed rather a lot over basically nothing at all. I'm excellent at talking about nothing. I babble. And annoy. And irritate. And chatter. And ramble.
I'm sure that there are other synonyms I could come up with.
We've established...I'm loquacious.
I'm also in the middle of a class. So...I should probably go attend to that.
Happy homecoming weekend! Or something! I don't know...merry homecoming weekend? Have a good homecoming? I'm very bad at social situations. I don't really know the protocol for wishing someone a good...well...joyous homecoming.
Like all the cool kids, I am spending homecoming weekend not at the football game and not getting drunk/tailgating. I'm in the library. With my equally as cool sister. I actually did homework and stuff. It got to feeling a bit too productive...hence the blogging. And pintrest-ing. I spend far too much time on pintrest. I have twenty bucks in the bank. I can't buy anything I pin. I can't even buy food.
I had to cancel my netflix subscription.
It was a dark day indeed.
And who do I have to thank for my current poverty? (Aside from my teacher parents, inability to win the lottery and refusal to get a new job) The financial aid office, that's who.
They're seriously the worst. First, they make me feel terrible for being poor. And, as you know, I did not choose the thug life. The thug life chose me, financial aid office. After they're done berating me for being poor, they put me on hold. FOR HOURS. Seriously. I think they all went to lunch and laughed about it one time.
I can't go to lunch. I have no money to buy lunch. AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT, FINANCIAL AID OFFICE.
Ball State really should pay me to go here. I give them so much good press, what with my positively-themed blogging and all. (But, really. My college is the worst college. Except at being drunk. We're all super good at that.)
So, with a school full of hookers and drunkards...is it really surprising that I avoid homecoming just as fervently as I avoid having a boyfriend?
The difference is...only one of those things is a choice.
Whatever. It's cool. I'm probably really bad at it anyway. I'll just becoming a nun. Or a velociraptor.
Don't ask me how I'd become a velociraptor. I have ways.
I should go. We ordered a pizza and I can always count on melty cheese and cardboard-y crust to temporarily fill the hole inside me where the love is supposed to go.
Oh, I jest.
...but seriously. My school is the worst.
Today....
My feud with all pizza-service-related-people began anew. For those of you who don't know(which can't honestly be many at this point) let's skip back ten months and visit the scene of my first accident (or second if you could that thing with the round-a-bout...) where I ran a blinky red light and hit a pizza person. The pizza person (I could not confidently determine if it was a girl or a boy) was very, very upset that I had jostled his/her pepperonis.
Apparently, some of his or her pizza delivering brethren up here in Muncie have gotten wind of my pepperoni jostling. Today, one of them tried to run me over. I was innocently jay-walking (or jay-riding) my bike across the street when a pizza-jerk almost nailed me. Stupid pizza-jerk. I fell off my bike and possibly broke my one non-broken big toe.
I broke the other one in an unfortunate stair-falling-down incident earlier this week. Anyway.
I think that pizza people everywhere may be out to get me. Perhaps there is a pizza mafia network all over central Indiana...we must act against them quickly lest they spread to (gasp) upper Kentucky! They get to Kentucky...we're all going down. Kentucky Fried Chicken is toast people...TOAST. And without KFC to fry them, chicken populations with soon quadruple. We'll all be buried in chickens.
So, I think the pizza mafia presents a significant problem. Maybe. Okay, probably not.
But still...my toes both hurt.
Danielle Out
