class of 2012.

The pre-frosh are swarming. I wonder if I was as annoying as they are? I’m sure I wasn’t, I knew my place, but these little assholes have Pre-Frosh Complex.

Symptoms include laughing obscenely loud at a professor’s joke, obnoxiously leaning over a student to read a passage in a book that the class has almost finished, constantly raising your fucking hand, and referencing Vonnegut or Joyce as if no one has ever heard of these two “obscure” authors.

This blondie in my English class had a severe case of the Complex. She repeatedly joined into a discussion about a short story that she hadn’t read. I wanted to take her damn swivel chair and roll her out of the room. Every comment started with “Well, from what I’ve read…” Bitch, you read a paragraph! How can you glean anything from that? Obviously she couldn’t because her analysis was a bunch of verbal diarrhea.

Message to pre-frosh - all you’re supposed to do is visit a class, not participate every five minutes. No one gives a fuck if you’re intelligent so quit trying to prove it. You just look like an asshole and then no one will want to get you drunk that weekend.

Thank-you.

Dick.

One of the nicest things Ryan has ever done was invite me to Bonnaroo this summer. A friend of his family’s offered him a few tickets and he immediately asked if I wanted to go. Of course, I said yes. Alcohol, drugs, and mud? I definitely wouldn’t have missed it.

This was months ago. He knows I’m shamelessly excited about it, but I should’ve known that it’d all go to shit. Long, dumb, story short he saw his ex-girlfriend over spring break and now he’s not sure if he should give the ticket to me or her.

If his roommates weren’t standing just outside the door I would have exploded. I stormed out instead and because I’m currently riding the red wave, I cried like a little girl in my room. In true movie fashion, my friends came over with cookies and mercilessly made fun of him.

The last six weeks of school don’t look promising. It’s going to be a long time before I get laid again.

whine, whine, whine.

PMS hits me in the most stereotypical way - four days of crying fits and an increase in my bitchiness level (an 8 to a 9). At college I spare everyone by turning off my phone and locking myself in my room, but at home there’s no escape from my siblings.

I’ve all ready yelled at my sister for not asking if I wanted a PB&J sandwich and started weeping when my 2 year old niece whispered “I lub you.” I’m so sick of myself. I’ve considered taking testoterone and getting a phalloplasty.

Unfortunately, this parade of erratic hormones lasts for three, long days and then Auntie Flo will come and use my ovaries as speed bags.

I also need to get laid.

fuck my life.

Text to Ex [Monday]: Hi, Ben! I really miss you. Do you want to get together before break is over?

Ex Text [Monday]: Beth, I’ve been wanting to see you for awhile. I’ll call you up.

Ex Text [Tuesday]: By the way from your Facebook pictures I can see that you look really good. I like your short hair.

Text to Ex [Tuesday]: Thanks. Hopefully all that cafeteria food hasn’t ruined your abs

Ex Text [Tuesday]: No, they’re still here if you’d like to see them.

Text to Ex [Wednesday]: When do you want to meet up?

Ex Text [Wednesday]: Soon, soon.

Text to Ex [Wednesday]: Ok, I’ll talk to you later, BDF.

Ex Text [Thursday]: BDF? No, just plain Ben ——.

Text to Plain Ben [Thursday]: ….I thought you were my ex-boyfriend this whole time.

Plain Ben [Thursday]: Oh…

Plain Ben [Thursday]: Do you still want to hang out though?

Plain Ben is a creeper from college and has the same name as my ex. When he’s drunk he tells my friends that he imagines me naked. I have ruined my spring break. How could anyone be this dumb?

childish.

I haven’t been posting because there’s literally nothing to write about. All I’ve been doing is watching movies and trying to transport my body to New England.

I did go to “a cute little diner” with the Moms yesterday. “Cute” and “little” translates into cheap, low-quality food. To no surprise my mash potatoes were rocks, so my 2 year old niece and I were flinging them at each other.

I know, I need to grow up. I will in a couple of months.