The Random Shit that can only mean It's Saturday

Friday was one of those got-a-million-things-to-do days. Really not that bad though, I mean, I had a physics test (yuck), but I don't think I failed it, and right now that's all I care about. We'll be starting on light and photons and stuff, and I think I'll like that better. Otherwise, I had to hand in my abstract for my APEX. Holding that paper in my hands made me feel a little funny. It's like HERE IS THE CULMINATION OF ALL YOUR WORK. . . in 200 words or less. I mean, this is the senior seminar I've been dreaming about and dreading for 3 years. Oh well. Turned it in, got a digital photo taken, so apparently all of this will be posted on the web.

Anyway, unfortunately due to being a girl I fell under the weather by late afternoon. It really does suck to work hard all week, make it to the weekend, get all showered and dolled up with a whole friday night ahead of you AND THEN feel so sick you just wanna curl up in a little ball and whimper pathetically. YUCK. Couldn't even really drink beer happily. But I DID get to watch Clone High on MTV, and that was pretty worth it. If you haven't seen it, the basic premise is a highschool made up of clones of historical figures. To sum up the show: Abe Lincoln was attempting to date Cleopatra. Ghandi had Attention Deficit Disorder, and everyone thought it was contagious. Ghandi was kicked off the Solid Ghandi Dancers. Joan of Arc was hearing voices in her head, finally, and when to talk to Jesus Christos (who was in shop class, btw) for advice. JFK was throwing dead gophers in the girls' locker room. Lincoln and Ghandi made out for a good minute (in full 360 degrees complete with lip sounds) to raise awareness about ADD, and how it isn't contagious. Awesomely quoteable show:

"Who would have ever dreamed that Lincoln would ditch Ghandi?"

Although the prize goes to Ceasar (apparently teaching shop class):
"Jesus, be careful with that nail gun . . . "

So here I am, it's Saturday. I've got a voicemail from a lady at Loyola who's telling me she can't send my airline tickets to a P.O. Box and that she needs a street address. Sounds pretty lame to me. I mean, c'mon. . I'm a college student. I have NO street address. I live in a dorm for goodness sake. Oh well, I e-mailed her (I am NOT long-distance calling these people) my dorm room address, and hopefully that will work. It freaking better. Otherwise they can just forget it.

finally, I've got several lines of songs running through my head, all from Outkast. So I'll type them here and they might leave me alone!

I love who you are
I love who you ain't
you're SO Anne FRANK
Let's hit the attic to hide out for about two weeks. . .

Ain't no body dope as me
I'm just so fresh and
so fresh and so clean!
Don't you think I'm so sex-y?
I'm just so fresh and
so fresh and so clean!

We aaarrreeee
The coolest mother fuckas on the planet
My Myyyyyyy
The sky is fallin' ain't no need to panic
oh-ooooo-ooooooo
I got a stick and want yo automatic
oooo-ooooooooooo
Compatible created-in-the-attic


Ok, and number two:

Don't pull the finga, unless you plan to bang
BOMBS OVER BAGHDAD!!
Don't even bang unless you plan to hit somethang
BOMBS OVER BAGHDAD!!!

Ok! whew! I feel better.