~The Delicious Randomization That is Me~

I've got way too much time on my hands this weekend... Three days, hm? Da-ang. Looks like I'm gonna hafta bust out the flammables soon, or else I'm gonna run out of things with which to occupy meself...

School finances are nearly ship-shape. Nearly. I've gotta fax my loan paper to mon papo so he can sign them and send them off to Wells Fargo so they can gives the UI moneez for mai schoolin'.

...I'm fairly sure my IQ just shot itself in the foot just then.Yikes.

...So. Walking around campus today was an interesting voyage. Whenever I'd pass someone with a cigarette, I'd catch a whiff of their smoke. big deal, you say. Shrug it off, you say. Any other day, and I would. But today was different. Today when the smoke hit me, it HURT! Like a serious, legitimate, stabbing HOLYMOTHEROFALLF**K it hurt! I figured it was just that once, so I let it slide, but the same thing happened when I walked home from Core class. BAM. Cig' smoke, in yo' face, girly. And it hurtz ya. So now I'm effing paranoid that one of these days I'm going to DIE because I won't be able to BREATHE around these effing SMOKAHZ.

Hm. Subject change.

Jazz Choir is awesome. Have I ever mentioned that before? Because... it is. For serious. Like... DANG, Mr. Bukvich man, you are CRAZY PSYCHO GOOD at this game.

We're singing "The Bells", by Edgar Allen Poe, and it. Is. Kick. Ass. You'd have to hear it to believe how amazing it is, but it's just... wow. Yeah.

-horror-
FLASHBACK!!
So I was thinking of how epically spooky Poe is, and that reminded me of the last time I was epically scare. It was quite recently, actually--during Christmas break. I had gotten SO TIRED of the monotony of being at home in the middle of EFFING NOWHERE, so I made the half-hour drive into town and chilled at the high school. Helped out Mrs. S with directing and fun stuffs as such (STILL NOT GETTING MY TEACHING CERTIFICATE, DAD. GIVE IT UP.), until she told me that there were two flutes in her office that needed some fixing. Me, greatly enjoying any opportunity to figure out what's wrong with an instrument--and consequently whipping it back into shape in a rather unorthodox manner--went to look at said flutes. I opened the case of the first one, took out the body joint--

--AND IT FELL APART IN MY FREAKING HANDS.

Naturally, my reaction was nothing short of OMGWTF mixed in with a little shriek of absolute MISERY. But  ho-ly CRAP that flute was scary. Every key rod was unscrewed. Every spring was useless. And part of me died a little bit at that moment. But I scrounged up a makeshift screwdriver (which was little more than a REALLY sharp blade thingy welded onto a square rod thingy), took out my flute and pieced that bitch back together. And then I did the same thing to the other flute.

....What do those Elementary kids DO to their instruments to make them so.... So... -weeps-

...*cough* And that, ladies and gents, is the delicious randomization that is me. :3