Hell Rage, Part 2: The Ragening

          My calculus professor is a dick. No, that is an insult to dicks. He is a tumbling dickweed. There are only three people I have ever met who were more efficient at being condescending dickbags, and two of them were brothers. He has his name written in his underwear in red sharpie, and it says "Dick MacDickface." Firstly, no calculus is "high school stuff." It is a college subject studied by college students. Secondly, no calculus instructor worth their salt says things like, "This is not hard at all, once you know how to do this it's so simple...This should be really easy stuff. There is nothing hard in this section except all those new terms." Allow me to address my instructor directly. If that were true, you would be able to release us earlier than five minutes late every day. You would not use words like "sperial" (spherical) or "propogate" (propagate), which do not exist. You would master basic rules of grammar involving subjects and verbs. You would not laugh at all the wrong moments, such as the part where you tell me I need to pull up my quiz grades because those are the only grades in your class. Finally, you wouldn't say all these unbelievably condescending things while referring to linear approximation and propagated error, two of the most mind numbing subjects I have encountered to date and most definitely not "high school stuff."
          In other news, the trees in the park outside my window have lost much of their foliage. Soon I will be able to actually see stuff going on unrelated to children whose parents were arrested. It was beautifully overcast with some calming rain later in the day, and an aroma of rain on soil rose to greet me while I returned from English class. This prompted sweet memories of cross country at SHS and the friends I made there, and got me all nostalgic for our runs up and over the hobo junkyard and through the muddy flats over by HITS. Sabrina also sent me a text reading thusly: "trumpets are made of glory and winnery. also trumpet players win at life and make the best lovers." I found this so sweet, I have temporarily revoked her ban from my room. We're going to watch a chick-flick at 10:15, but first a message from guest writer Heather.

         Actually he meant 10:00. 10:15 is past my bedtime. So today everyone learned that Andy has a foot fetish, it's pretty weird. Andrew Roy Curran (ARC) is a pretty cool guy, except he can be totally a huge pain in the ass. Not in an inappropriate way, I know what you're thinking, Andy. You should really get your mind out of the gutter. But that's another story. For now, I'm going to convert you into a chick-flick lover. Not as in the guys in said chick-flicks, more as in one who enjoys watching girly movies. Because seriously, after a few more scary/action/thriller/intense movies, I'm going to stop watching. No Fucking Joke. <3 Heather :D