Mood:

Sleepy
I'm sitting in class, listening to my Sarah McLachlan remix CD, and I may be unconsciously grooving in my chair just a bit. It is very possible everyone is staring at me right now. I am surprisingly content with this.
So I forgot my updated Flash project in the Mac lab and I didn't know this period was going to be a work class, so I'm like, "Fancy that. A perfect excuse to do nothing and post on my blog." *Blog cheers and waves big signs with hearts drawn on it.*
I stayed up until 1:00 AM last night finishing my corporate website prototype, so I'm
freaking tired this morning. The PC I'm working on right now is also making me very annoyed, but then what else is new. I mean, wow, I totally love how the PC throws completely random icons on my files. I have four versions of the same Adobe Illustrator file, and ironically enough, not even a single one of them has the AI file icon -- according to this idiot PC box, I have one WinZip file, one Photoshop file, one that I've never seen before with red and blue and a big "FZ" on it that I don't recognize at all, and ooh, look, apparently that last one there is a Macromedia Fireworks document. Oh Windows, you're like the slow handicapped kid in the class that eats glue and everyone else humors them and pretends not to notice.
So April is fastly approaching and will bring with it scary school crunch time and at least several minor breakdowns on my part. We have eight major projects all due within the month, and I really have no idea how I'm going to finish them all. Luckily, as opposed to before, this term I'm still too burnt out from first semester to muster the motivation to really care as much this term. That, and I'm horribly distracted by the fact that my birthday weekend is in two weeks time, and I've firmly decided that that entire weekend is Brenna's Mighty Weekend O' Fun and Absolutely No Homework. YAY! *Excited*
Yesterday as I was getting into my car in the bus station parking lot, the car parked directly nose-to-nose with me had a big, fat bumper sticker plastered on it that proclaimed:
"Real Men Love Jesus". It's really not fair, I think, for something like that to be put there right in front of my face like an open invitation while I have a bright red marker pen just a hands reach away in my bag. If I had been any less of a person at all (and wasn't so paranoid that the next morning I would find my car windshield bashed in with a baseball bat,) that sticker would have read
"Real Men Fuck Jesus" or
"Real Men Love Jesus' Penis." I'm too nice, damnit.
Has anyone else noticed the little alliance that bus drivers have together? You can have the crankiest old crackpot driving your bus to school in the morning who will tell you in no uncertain terms to fuck your cousin up the ass, but in rush hour traffic when they're already running late, they'll go out of their way to help clear the way for another bus to change lanes, with a wave and nod instead of flipping them the finger like they would any other driver on the road. "Why of course, my jolly little bus comrade! Ho ho, go right ahead and I shall clear the way for you like that trusty boy in football that clears the way for the other fine gentleman with the ball; and all the while I will allow those boisterous drunk teenagers in the back to administer some fatal beatings upon the other passengers. And how about afterwards you pop over for a delightful cup of tea, a scone, and a good hard snog? Pip pip."
It's like a little bus society with happy cookies and milk, but no one else is allowed to join. And of course anyone who breaks the code of the bus driver society gets beaten out behind the bus terminal with a lead pipe. (Now I know some people are thinking, damn, this girl raises a fine point, and they're off right now to rally some guerrilla warfare on these snobbish bus driving Nazis. The rest of you are probably thinking that I had one too many tasty crack cocaine cookies in my lunch today, which is also a fair assumption.)
Swinging over to a completely unrelated topic, as I am so fond of doing, I got my
Glarkware Urban Asshole Notification Cards in the mail! I'm keeping one in my purse at all times in case some rude pig cuts me in line or something. *Brenna goes to the mall parking lot and steals the handicapped parking sign. An innocent driver parks in the unmarked space and Brenna jumps out of the bushes, clubs them over the head with the handicap sign, calls them a jerk, then stuffs the Asshole Card in their mouth and runs away like a mad woman while they lie bleeding and unconscious on the pavement.*
I should probably get back to school work. . .
Wait, no, one more thing! OMGZ, JOSH AND DONNA SNOGGED!!! OMGZ, WE SAW TOBY'S BABIES!!! XD I ♥ WW~ I'm done now.