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Sep. 25th, 2008

My body and I periodically give up the will to fight. This is one of those times. And I have an exam/writing project due this Friday. Oh joy.

I've got something to say.

I rickrolled an entire bar tonight.

My life has otherwise been unexceptional.
I'm currently suffering from a random bout of social paranoia/dissatisfaction. This means (a perhaps irrational) fear of hatred from those I hold most dear and a desperate longing for more attention. Ugh, this is so pathetic. I've been trying to occupy my mind and force these unpleasant thoughts out of my consciousness, but to no avail.

Well, in more pleasant news, I've decided that this shall be my new hairstyle. Now all I need is the money for the fancy haircut and a lot of hair wax.
I'm having a blah day. I'm going to sleep soon. That cures almost every emotional malady.

Yes, escapism.

I'm not lovin' it.

I'm not fond of McDonalds. This is an underexaggeration, of course. But I was given a set of gift certificates for a recent birthday and, due to my need of food and lack of money, I was forced to use them. I was expectedly underwhelmed by dear old Ronald's cooking. I got a grilled chicken sandwich meal, which of course they didn't make plain per my request. I then had the seldom experienced pleasure of wiping off a disgusting glob of mayo with a copious amount of napkins. Mmm. I'm lovin' it. I also forgot that they were gunked up with mayo and proceeded to use them again to wipe ketchup from my pants. I'm such a classy girl.

The corporate bastards there charge for their WiFi. I didn't fork up the money for it and instead opted to bike to the university. Yes, free wireless and a conveniently placed outlet. I'm sitting outside the Fine Arts center typing away. I'm such a weirdo.

Whatever. I do what I want.

A sad self-commentary:

This has been a sad day of this pathetic thing that I call my life. I have beaten Jet Grind Radio and consumed the last of my Cinnamon Crunch Toasters. The latter is pretty disgusting, for it was a two pound bag that took only a couple days to finish. But, mmm, so delicious. Yes, I hold back tears as I recount these sad facts. Alas, but I must move on now.

I'm not oft addicted to any particular video game. This is primarily due to the fact that I am partial to low commitment, experimental games. This is, of course, a rare genre. This categorization doesn't seem apt, but it's the best way I can articulate it. I'm referring to games such as Bust A Groove, Dance Dance Revolution, Katamari Damacy, Mad Maestro, PaRappa the Rapper, etcetera. These are the kinds of games that you can play for fifteen minutes, neglect them for weeks/months, and pick them up again without any difficulties. That's right, I don't even want to commit to a steady relationship with any of my video games. My beloved, Jet Grind Radio, fits into just this category. My summer induced boredom has caused me to return to it and our time together has already passed. I can't do the game justice with any of my descriptions, but I'll give you a little taste. It involves roller blading, graffiti, police states, rival gangs, explosives, and automatic weaponry. I was at first pleasantly surprised by its seemingly extensive game play, but this was just a byproduct of my low expectations. The games that I'm accustomed to, once a sense of familiarity has been established, lack length. And thus, after two days, Jet Grind Radio has been defeated.

This is my first day, in a week or so, that I have had a meal that didn't come from a can or a box. I've finally broken down and went out to eat, because my two failed attempts to make something for myself left my stomach wanting. I've been milking my time at a local restaurant on a small appetizer and a glass of water for their basically free internet. I would feel like a loiterer, but they charge $6.49 for five lackluster chicken tenders with barbecue sauce and I feel obligated to make up for the lost monetary value.
 
This concludes my pointless update.
This is my university.

Thank you, College Humor, for saying the things I can't. But don't misunderstand me, the rest of your videos are shit. 

I = fail.

An adorable boy and I randomly started a conversation about The Colbert Report. Apparently, it was loud enough for him to hear. I should have asked for his name. 

I = teh fail.  
Dear Wisconsin weather,

You're depressing.  Stop it.

Fuck off,
Katherine