I was a little sleepy when I made my last post, and I over looked a few things.
It has been edited, most noticably on #5.

I'm in hell. So this is your update for today.
bite me.

Old relationships suck.
My ex boyfriends don't know the rules, apparently.
There is an unspoken rule. I date you.
You fuck me over.
We break up.
You disappear off of the face of the earth, or go die or something.
I didn't think it was a difficult concept.
So if you are an ex of mine, and have somehow progressed from books with lots of pictures to reading my blog, here's my advice.
1. Stop reading my blog. It's not good for either of us. Eventually, I am going to make a shitty comment about you, most likely regarding the size of your penis, less than stellar ability in the bedroom, or the fact that you have the IQ that rivals only that of Corky on Life Goes On, and honestly I don't want to hear you bitch and moan about it.
2. Stop hanging out with our mutual friends. They like me more. I promise. Yes. Even your best friend. He told me himself.
3. Stop calling me. I'm quickly running out of good excuses to not talk to you and eventually I'm going to have to settle with the truth. The truth being that I'd rather cram steel wool up my twat and run around the block than have to talk to you. If you had something to say you should've said it while we were together.
4. If you see me, keep walking. I can do without that awkward "How are you doing" conversation. I know you don't care, which is a good thing because I don't care either.
5. If for some reason we are within 2 feet of each other, which I will try like hell to avoid, don't even think of touching me. Don't touch my hips, my wrists, anything. Not even a hug, and god forbid you raise a hand to me in anger. You will be killed. Don't touch me. Not even a high five. I will take it as a physical threat, and my boyfriend will proceed to hit you so hard you'll be smiling out of your ass.
6. You can't fix things. Please don't try, you will only embarrass yourself and make me look like more of a bitch.
7. You will not get your black t-shirt/bottle of rum/stuffed bear you can't sleep without back. If it was so important you shouldn't have left it at my apartment.
8. Finally. Just go away. It would make life way easier for all parties involved. You won't look like an ass, and I can have fun without worrying about running in to your sorry behind.

I have lost some weight. Apparently, waking up to work out at the buttcrack of dawn does have its benefits.
I posted the pics of me due to a request from a reader.
So here you go.


I still hate working out.
Torture.

I haven't been posting much. Not much to say. School has been kicking my ass all over the place.
let me tell you, summer classes aren't a joke at my institution of higher learning. The worst part about it are the presentations. I hate them. And I get the most depressing topics. Like the Holocaust. I'm a pretty decent public speaker, but for the love of god. Try lightening the mood when you talk about Auschwitz. It's not possible.
There's really no good way to win over an audience when you discuss the Holocaust.
"Hey! How bout that Hitler!"
Ugh.
Suprisingly, I pulled it off. I actually started a discussion about the Holocaust with a joke. A tasteful joke, but a joke. I rock all over the place.

Random Links For Your Enjoyment
All you ever wanted to know about toliet paper

Gorilla Mask. I just can't get enough of this guy.

The After Party Of the Internets

One of my favorite people ever is back.

This is going to be a short, easy post.
I have an exam tomorrow, 2 books to read, a presentation to bullshit, and a hypothesis to pull out of my ass, on top of 2 papers.
And before you give me some shit about managing my time, I just found out about all of this last night.
So shove it.

Anyway, my parents got a new doggie. A 13 month old shih tzu named Snickers. Apparently her last owner was a worthless chode, so my parents have taken her in. She has taken a liking to my dad, and to my other dog's favorite purple rat. Poor Frankie, she lost her favorite toy.
Anyway, because I have little or no content today, I leave you with a picture of a cute wittle doggie.

If anyone wants to buy me something cuddly, cute and little, be sure to let me know.

My social psych professor decided that he wanted to use the internets as a tool in class. I'm not entirely sure what to make of the concept quite yet. I know it would be a nice god damn mess if my academic life was crossed with my personal life.
That being said, I do have another blog. It's not fun like this one, it's not all that interesting, and it's geared more toward my academic life, and less towards porn, booze and all the other fun stuff that makes the world go round. I think I might keep it up, just for shits and giggles, so you guys don't look at me funny when I discuss what random really looks like, and the idea of subliminal priming on subjective optimization.
Here it is.Read it. Don't read it. I really don't care. If you feel the need to comment, keep it appropriate and remember that respected faculty from my college will be looking at it.

I know it's been awhile. I'm a bad blogger.
This isn't going to be a long post, I went to the dentist today and she chiseled at my precious teeth with little hammers and I kind of want to die. Even the vicodin isn't working.
It's weird around here. Sarah (the heterolifemate, for those of you that have been too drunk/stoned/stupid to pay attention for the past four fucking years) graduated. As did Karl, Adam, Missy, my evil ex roommate, and a bunch of others. So I'm doing well.
Not at all. Sarah and I decided that a good way to bond before her departure was by getting our ears peirced. I cried the entire time. When Dan said "Dont worry, you'll probably never see her again", I almost needed to be carried from the room.
I didn't think it would suck this bad, but it does. I'm up to my ass in summerschool, I miss my heterolifemate, I don't have air conditioning to speak of, and my teeth hurt.
So yea, more later.