you know that thing i said? the one about it being statistically improbable that so many morons would be allowed into grad school? ha. i stand corrected by circumstances that have turned me into a murderous crazy-eyed (imaginary) hatchet-waving psychopath. because, truly, there are some who should have reconsidered graduate school. some who should have perhaps continued to serve delicious and perfectly mixed drinks at their local corner pub. some who would have been so very good at ensuring that the pair of trousers you try on is the right size. some... well, some i have no idea. there must be jobs for the eternally infuriatingly confused, but i don't have it in me to be a career counsellor for people whose demise i am planning in my head. repeatedly. every. fucking. day.
i told my fabulous roommate tonight that i really really wanted to kill some people.
mfr: did you do it?
moi: i can't tell you. that would make you accessory after the fact. i don't want you to be an accessory to murder... unless i need help digging the grave.
mfr: i'm not digging any graves! it's november and the ground is frozen.
moi: wood chipper then?
mfr: that's better. we'll go all fargo!
this is why he is fabulous. ever so helpful, that man.
p.s. please know that the majority of my classmates are smart, charming, thoughtful and lovely people. then there are those others.