Mother Fuckers

Here's a post. I'm ranting, raving; just venting for all intents and purposes, really. So here's what's come to me in the past little while: I've started school again, of course. It's been good so far, but my diagnostic sucked (song), though my cold-read went really well, or so I thought. We're getting the cast-list tomorrow as well as our new dance groups, and who knows. I did terribly on my dance diagnostics, and I know that I can do better than what I performed for my teachers. Which is unfortunate, but if that's the way the cookie crumbles, then so be it. So anyway, we cleaned our apartment today. It went really well. I'm in a bitchy mood for some reason, maybe I just need to get out of the house today and go for a drive, but who knows.

What else. Lots of stuff. The people that I rant about are reading my blog. So I cannot tell you the specifics. Sufficed to say, I hate cleaning up after people. I HATE IT. SO CLEAN UP YOUR FUCKING MESS, PLEASE. NO, I am NOT your mother. NO, leaving the place a MESS for days on end is NOT o.k. with me. We AGREED that we would be clean, so be FUCKING CLEAN. "Oh, no problem, of course I will be." Two days fucking later, it's not even touched. Thanks. Real swell. "Oh? I'll do it? Yeah, sure. No! No problem at all." Fuckers.

--- Exeunt.

P.S. quoth the Rachel, it's eleven minus one plus two minus one, it's eleven! She makes my day even just thinking about it.