lay off the crack, jack

i am riddled with anxiety. and a slight depression. and a definite case of the crazy eyes. my corporations exam is on sunday. my ethics exam is on monday. my con law exam is on wednesday. i saw the devastator today and there are only three more (not two, i was wrong) sessions with her. i've had espresso and a diet cherry coke and a sandwich. oh, and some chips with dip. and a mint. but the mint was sort of gross.

i cannot. stop. thinking.

okay, look. i need to get a haircut, and right now, because it's like rufus the shaggy dog or whatever the hell that movie was called is all up in my hizzy. BUT I DON'T HAVE ANY TIME.

also, i hate that excuse. "i don't have any time" is lame, albeit true in most cases in which it is used. i use it. you use it. we all use it, and scream for ice cream, another phrase i hate, and not just because i don't particularly care for the frozen confection known as ice cream. it's more because, i actually have heard people screaming for ice cream, and they're usually somebody else's children (as opposed to my own?) in the grocery, while i'm scaling the organic section in order to reach the last, freezerburned and forgotten amy's macaroni and cheese, gluten-free or whatever (don't go for the dairy-free variety, whatever you do. i mean it). i guess i just can't relate, since when i was little i was screaming for either a) new lego sets b) a puppy, which i subsequently got but then was terrified of when it sort of bit me in the car on the way home from the shelter (we eventually, after she had busted a hole in the wall of our kitchen by slamming herself into it, eaten not one but two of my winter coats, consumed my mother's favorite pair of pink socks, the dog bed, and then "playfully attacked" our 12-year old neighbor--who actually became terrified of all dogs for years after that incident, gave the dog to the k9 training squad, where she takes down dangerous criminals by "playfully attacking them"), or c) another mcdonald's happy meal. but not with those stupid barbie dolls they always gave for the "girls' meals," because i know i was like the president of the tomboy association or some shit (an expression which i ALSO HATE, BECAUSE I HATE EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME, apparently), but hello? barbies are boring if you are an only child. BORING.

i mean, i really liked playing barbies with my best friend mary (the elder sister of elizabeth, the unfortunate victim of dogaphobia), especially because she had a bajillion clothes and shoes! remember the shoes? and she had the sports car or something, and that was totally awesome. i just had the heart family house AND the barbie and the rockers stage set (which totally came with the 45 RPM (that's right, bitches, eat your heart out) record featuring barbie and the rockers singing not one, but THREE of their smash hits) AND i had the heart family car because i was a spoiled brat, but really maybe not so spoiled because it was so freaking dull playing with all those things by myself. so i spent the majority of my time tramping about in the woods around our house and playing pretend.

also, "playing pretend" does not mean "i have no friends," but it sort of does. and that's okay! after years of therapy and plastic surgery, it's all fine now.

all of this is lies! LIES! maybe not all of it. OR IS IT?!? no, really. BUT MAYBE!