Tuesday, April 19, 2005


I'm frustrated that the metro bus decides to mysteriously not show up every time it rains. Sunny skies my ass, weather man.

I'm frustrated that I feel guilty for not calling my parents in the last week to listen to them tell me who died, who is dying, and why my mom is going to kill my father this time.

I'm frustrated that my dad calls gasoline "Vitamin G" and that he thinks this Vitamin G is the answer to my mosquito problem.

I'm frustrated that my data can not be analyzed using parametric statistics and that my mentor told me he has no idea what stats I should use. He still wants the draft by Friday since he's "sure I'll figure it out".

I'm frustrated that I haven't slept in 2 weeks. I'm frustrated that I keep having the same dream where I'm killed in a car accident or, even worse yet, by prehistoric fish (don't ask).

I'm frustrated that the evil-neighbor lady lets her dog shit in my azaleas, and she doesn't take the steaming bricks with her. I can see you out the window--in fact, I'm waving at you. You are looking right at me while I'm waving, and you still aren't going to pick up your dog's nasty, generic-dogfood turds. Just wait until I figure out which house you live in...

I'm frustrated that I was extremely depressed 5-minutes ago, but now I'm going so fast that I'm actually sweating. I wish it was one or the other so that I could get something done today.

I'm frustrated that the next pope probably won't die soon enough (sorry for sounding callous--I don't want anyone to actually die). At least they are sticking to their guns: no women, no science, no acknowledgement that sex is supposed to happen, no homosexuality, no church other than the Catholic church, and, most importantly, blame the media for the alleged child molestation issues. How appropriate he was forced to serve the Nazis. He learned a lot--good for him.


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