Things that suck.

One thing about this University that continues to anger me, even after 3 years, is the incessant construction that plagues campus. Maybe it is just that I was unluckly, going to college right at the time the Higher Education Bonds passed, and $500 million was dropped on construction. It just kills me to see so many construction sites, at the same time. I remeber back when I was a freshman (starting to sound like an old man here) and ehringhaus field was actually still grass, instead of a shit-ass gravel parking lot. I would love to actually see this campus without green work fences and trackhoes everywhere. Taking out three 30 gallon trashbags of damn trash from our apartment, in addition to a fuckload of boxes also sucks. Mello Yellow is a pathetic attempt at a citrus soda, and sucks ass like a desperate hooker. Being a DD might suck more than anything else you can do on a Thrusday night. Truly, I would rather stay at home and watch a movie or bust out some Grand Theft Auto. It is not so much the lack of drinking, because I am not one of those "you gotta get wasted" people, but things seem much less interesting when you are sober, and boredom sets in at an amazingly swift pace. Not having groceries is terrible. Going to the grocery store when you are tired and just want to sleep, even worse. Perhaps worst of all is having to decide between drinking a southpaw or a glass of water with your multivitamin and hot pocket in the morning. If only one glass of Orange Juice remained. Beer and Water are also inadequate for accompanying a peanut butter sandwhich. This post is quickly going from simple complaining to all out bitching, so a strike toward the positive must be made, and fast. Redemption comes in the form of Intramural victory. That's right, the first game the team wins just happens to be the first game of the playoffs, where it really matters. Looks like we are some backs-against-the-wall motherfuckers. I think the majority of the negativity that I have at the moment will dissapear with a complete nights sleep, and hopefully that is on the way. It is weird how some very stupid things can put you in a terrible funk, the likes of which even a meal at Sakura cannot solve. But, the sun will come up tommorow, the keg will still be on our porch, the Art of Henna box will still be on the coffee table, and my neighbor's wireless will still be free for me to steal. The damn hell of it is, we now have metal tipped darts. If ever the wall was going to be fucked, it will be fucked now. We're at the point now where we are going to pretend that the sliding glass door never had a handle, so they can't fine us for breaking it off. Hopefully some putty will fill in those big holes in the walls from the double sided tape. But as for the dart damage, well, fucked is us, and us is fucked. My focus has left me, so it's time to wrap up this most forlorn of all blog posts with some nonsense from a song or item of literature, with the hopes of impressing you with my knowledge of obscure and irrelevant material. You will hopefully interpret some deeper meaning into what I choose, one that is doubtfully what I had in mind, but will serve to reinforce the deep intellectual regard that I am attempting to foster. As said in the classic Orange County (2002, Jack Black is a badass as Lance, the dumbass brother) "A writer? What do you have to write about? You're not oppressed. You're not gay." Have a good monday people.