I don’t know why I keep doing this.  I don’t have anything remotely interesting to say so I talk about myself, and no one reads it anyway because it’s uninteresting.  And yet…here we go again.

I had a great weekend because I did some things by myself (number one, went to “Win a Date With Tad Hamilton” all alone), I did some things with people (namely Becca, Clarissa, Andy, and Sarah), I made some money (workin’ at the hockey game thanks to Michelle, and workin’ at the theater), and I spent some money (Thanks to Sarah and our girl Vicky…).  Then there’s that sudden realization…”Oh crap, it’s ten o’clock on a Sunday night and I haven’t touched my homework!”  The panic-driven study session only lasted an hour for me.  Then I went to bed.

This morning started out fabulously as well, with the terribly exciting news that my eight o’clock had been cancelled due to the weather.  Back to bed it is!  Eleven hours of sleep and I was up and ready for killer Spanish class!  We talked about terrorism!  Kind of a downer!  Then lunch…only saw Jennif for two seconds before going to work.

Today in work (OH BOY!  HERE’S THE PART WHERE SHE COMPLAINS ABOUT WORK!  NEAT-O!) I cut steel for an hour and a half with Travis.  We had a good division of labor going on.  Mainly I wore ear plugs and pondered the words painted on the band saw: “Cut Slower Than You Think!”  Slower than you think in general, as in, I am not very bright and therefore a slow thinker and a veeeeeeery slow cutter?  Or slower than you think you should cut, in which case you have to constantly slow down and will never get anything done.  After so much pondering (and loudness of steel, despite the earplugs) it is really no wonder that I developed the Killer Headache of Death.  I took a trip into the first aid cabinet for some painkillers, and then again when I realized my hand was bleeding (Question:  How many times in my life have I said the words, “Is that MY blood?”  Answer:  Way Too Many.).  Anyway, the headache did not dissolve.  It got stronger, feeding off  the smells of welding and sounds of steel until it nearly knocked me out.  Brian asked me to leave because I was pretty miserable.

I came home and found the cure:  Ramen.  Oh ramen, my ramen, is there anything you CAN’T do?  (Answer:  No.)

Now I’m feeling refreshed; I’ve even done such highly productive things as research ticket prices to Holland, watch a strange gameshow called Supermarket Sweep (do they win money or groceries?  I still don’t understand), and think about calling my grandmother to wish her a very happy 88th birthday.  And Xanga, of course.  Others may have died, but mine is still going strong!  I declare, as long as there is homework to be avoided, this Xanga Site shall NOT perish!

So there!  Take THAT!

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