February 22nd, 2008

Red Rose

And How

Life can be such a petty, low-down, under the belt, club-you-in-the-kneecaps kind of bitch sometimes.

Like when you decide after the billionth half-assed lunch that, on Friday, you are going to wait until class is out and then get a real lunch, at a time when there will be less insane traffic at all the food-giving establishments on campus.  And then you wait, and you chillax and write fanfiction during your two disparate hour-long breaks between classes, because you know you're going to get an amazing lunch after two o'clock, and it's going to be so flipping cool that words will not begin to encompass its endless wonders.  And you wait and wait and wait and then frolic up to the food-giving establishment in question and wait some more for your glorious sandwich, and cradle the paper-wrapped package you've been given all the way back to your dorm, and then go wash your hands, and return, and gleefully open the paper to find...

...that you have received someone else's sandwich.

I ask you, who the HELL eats a turkey sandwich with mustard and olives and cheddar?  How can you not puke at the very concept, much less eat the damn thing?!

Okay, so once I scraped the olives off (they were nasty as hell) and ditto most of the mustard, it was tolerable.  But it wasn't my sandwich that I'd pined for for hours.

I'm actually kind of over it now.  Really.  I just like to allow you to partake in my pain.  It's cathartic for me.  And probably just obnoxious for you, but, hey, I can't please everyone.

No, I'm really over it.

There are children starving in Africa right now.

Word up to your mother.