exciting things happen to me

Happy Zombie Jesus Day!

• On Sunday, as the Idler and I were waiting at the bus stop to go grocery shopping downtown, my old car drove past. I recognized a dent on the side, and it still has the same license plate number. The irony of seeing my old car, in my neighborhood, driving blithely past me as I waited at the bus stop, was all ironical and stuff.
  
• Yesterday my boss introduced me to a new phrase. Of a co-worker, she said: "That girl could complicate a wet dream, I tell you what." Delightful.
• Today after lunch, the Idler and I saw a guy wearing clown shoes sitting outside the Mini Mart. No other clown regalia, just the shoes.

I'll just stop there before I make the internet jealous of my exciting lifestyle full of excitement. Incidentally, spring break sucks when you have to work overtime. And are depressed.

Most of my depression is hormonal, but part of it is because I feel like I fucked up my History final pretty badly. It was at 7:30 at night last Friday, and the professor held it up for 20 minutes at the beginning because of some undisclosed snafu, so by the time I got to the second essay question (worth, alone, 16% of my final grade) I was so ready to get out of there and just so done with the class that I didn't take as much time with it as I should have. I totally know all that fucking history shit. Ask the Idler, whom I have been regaling with scintillating tales about Irish monasticism and the difference between Sunnis and Shi'ites for a week. I just didn't put enough of it down in my answer, and I'm still kicking myself.

I also got an A- on my paper. Which probably doesn't seem that bad to, like, normal people, but I've worked harder this quarter than I've ever worked in school before — all while working full-time and dealing with work politics and nearly losing my job and having multiple health problems and taking the bus everywhere and not even being able to drink — so it's bang-my-head-against-the-wall frustrating to hear that I've lost nearly a full letter grade on my paper because I didn't make it clear within the first two or three sentences which prompt I was responding to. When I pointed out to my T.A. that I used the language of the prompt in my introduction, he told me that wasn't sufficient, and that his not being able to tell immediately which prompt I was responding to made my paper as a whole unclear. Er, only if you can't fucking read, you fucking moron. Also, presuming to correct my grammar is rich when you can't write a coherent sentence yourself, not to mention spell or use commas competently. Seriously, this is how bad: in his email response to my complaint about my grade, he inserted a random incorrect comma into the quoted text of my email. Which could have been an accident, except that I've seen him use commas in this same incorrect way before. Maybe if you learned how fucking commas work, you dolt, you wouldn't think that any long sentence is a run-on. P.S. fuck you, fuckhead.

I'm pretty angry about this, in case you hadn't noticed. But on a happier note, I got an A in Geography. And I do enjoy knowing random historical and geographical facts. Ask me any damn state capital, or what a muskeg is, or what and where the oldest living creature on earth is. Or ask me about the Carolingians, or Viking culture, or the hegira, or the fall of the Roman Empire. Please, quick! My student loans are gathering interest as we speak! Plus, I will forget this shit in two weeks.