It'll probably never amount to anything, but go list some of your favorite words at wordie if you have time.

I can't bring myself to read this right now as it is so limpidly predicated on an incontestably tendentious premise, but maybe I will later, why are atheists so angry?

The final exam is a week and a half away, and am I ready to get it over-with. Let me answer that. Yes. From now till them it's only a matter of getting faster; I've done these three watches till I could do them in my sleep: the Lemania 1873 (which has a few differences from the Omega 861), the ETA 2824 (2892s are on backorder till January of '08, which I love), and what collection would be complete without the 955. Again. At some point I think you start to get worse from over-preparation, but I can't say for sure when it's happening, only when it already has. It happened when we made stems last year and I'm sure I'm somewhere on that same trajectory now. Not worth worrying about, but still, something.

My "xxx xxxxxxx is a man" campaign was a rousing success; wait. I have to explain.

The CFO of my school, one (female, I think) xxx xxxxxxx, once unethically fined me ten bucks over a parking dispute. Thing is, I already had a parking permit, but the parking attendant didn't see it. Why should I have to pay twice? When I took the ticket in to argue against it, Mr. xxxxxxx told me she'd reduce the price to ten from twenty but not get rid of it entirely. I made the point (to no avail) that you can either charge me the whole twenty or kill the ticket; making me pay ten is admitting I didn't do anything wrong and then charging me anyway. She said there are administrative costs that have to be paid for the ticket and so on. I bristled at this vile rhetoric and told her it was totally unethical, which she gleamed evilly at. I paid; if not I can never graduate.

I am not a forgiving person. So I let some months pass and went on a terroristic spree in which I referred to Mr. xxxxxxx as a man and a lumberjack who will chop your wood free on Wednesdays. Panic spread throughout the offices and people were brought in for questioning. Really. These words were said, as a flyer I made was held up: "Do you know anything about this?" How elementary.

The reaction was so primitive that I suspect my school (a school in name only, in some ways) has apparently never been host to a prank of any kind. The pot was stirred, people freaked, and I got my ten bucks' worth. Some day soon after I graduate I'll be sending an email to the gentleman in question and telling him she's an asshole who had it coming and why.

The math is simple: it's hard to let some things go, like when you are treated like a child who can't do anything about getting fucked over, so I don't.

Here's a dog doing something I can sympathize with:


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