Posts in Category: The Crush

Early Day and Shit

I was supposed to meet my little Humanities group an hour before class today, so we could figure out what the hell we’re doing for our project (which we apparently start shooting tomorrow—way to plan, us). Only myself and another guy showed up, which was kind of frustrating. But we got an assload done, so we should be sorta okay for tomorrow.


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Classy Week of Fun

I started out Monday night writing a really long entry about how shitty my Monday was. But I didn’t finish it. I continued to write it through Tuesday, but it was (1) really fucking long, (2) really fucking boring, and (3) I kept digressing to the point that the whole “bad day” theme was sort of ruined.

So just take my word for it: Monday was the worst day I have had in quite a long time. Tuesday wasn’t much better, but Wednesday turned out fairly all right. I had lunch with The Girl On Whom I Have an Enormous Crush But Am Too Much of a Pussy to Actually Ask Out Despite the Fact that She Has Clearly Been Sending Me Signs (hereafter, The Crush). That’s right: I strapped on a pair of artificial testicles and actually convinced her to go to lunch with me—strictly a friendly thing, of course, so we’d have time to talk and I could really gauge whether or not asking her out was a good idea.

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What a Week I’m Having!

It’s been about a week since my last legitimate update, and many exciting things have happened in the interim. Please note that “exciting” is used here in its false connotation. What I’m saying is that nothing interesting happened.

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Flirting with Disaster

When we left off, I was hanging in perilous female limbo in a McDonald’s located at the corner of Wabash Avenue and Jackson Boulevard in beautiful Chicago, Illinois. It is Monday, April 21st, 2003, and I have just received some pitiful advice from an acquaintance I have taken to calling The Cheat.

“So then what happened?” you ask with bated and somewhat foul-smelling breath.

Nothing particularly interesting. But I’m going to write about it anyway, because I can.

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I got out of humanities around 11:50 today, and since my politics class is an arduous 13-foot trek down the hall, I had 40 minutes to kill before it started, and I was far too lazy to do anything kooky like leave the building. Instead, I sat outside my politics classroom and attempted to read. And failed, not because of illiteracy, but because of The Cheat.

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In the Words of Ice Cube…

Today was a good day.

Or, more accurately (and surprisingly), it wasn’t a bad day. I wasn’t feeling particularly well, so I thought maybe I’d skip my screenwriting class. After a night that mainly involved me not being able to fall asleep until I figured out my game plan from here until graduation (which is likely to happen sometime before 2017), I assumed that screenwriting would be rotten. I was certainly well enough to go; I just didn’t want to. But I did, and I guess I’m glad I did.

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Anonymous Letter

The Cheat handed me a CD-R. No case, nothing. Just a cheap, semi-translucent CD with something scrawled on it in black magic marker. He said, “This CD really sucks. You can have it.”

“What is it?” I asked. I thought, considering his taste in music, that I’d probably like it.

“It’s some Indian music,” he responded. “It’s really bad.”

“Indian music? Like Ravi Shankar?”

“No,” he said. “This is much worse.”

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We took our humanities final today, being that it’s the last day of class. It was tougher than I expected it to be, but I don’t think I did too badly. Not nearly as bad as The Crush—but, of course, she went home sick last week before our professor told us what to review, and instead of calling me or someone else in class or studying everything we’ve done, she decided to do nothing and study nothing. This is why I like her: she is just like me, only not nearly as irritating or unattractive.

I decided not to go to politics after the final. We’d be watching half of Bowling For Columbine, which I’ve already seen and didn’t really like enough to want to see more than once, and while I did want to get my final back to see how I did, I really didn’t care enough to wait around, since I got out of humanities about 45 minutes early. The Cheat begged me to stay, but I pretty much told him to fuck off and left.

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Last Day

I finished my last class, so I can cast off the shackles of the oppressive dictatorship I call college.

For one week.

But today actually wasn’t so bad. I sold back my books and made a whopping $117.25. Wow!

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If Only the Professor Were Mark Harmon…

Yesterday was the beginning of a new era in my college experience, one of trying frantically to get into as many summer school courses as I could so I can graduate some time before 2018. Of course, it’s me here, so obviously the two classes I desperately needed were either full or canceled, thus ensuring that everybody on the planet will soon be able to use the following exchange from Tommy Boy:

Chris Farley (for the purposes of this analogy, me): “A lot of people go to college for seven years.”

David Spade (any human being who will ever speak to me): “Yeah, they’re called doctors.”

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