(no subject)
May. 10th, 2004 01:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anotherusedpageSo. Here's me struggling to write my fucking bastard evil narratology essay. Outside my door, in the corridor, is one of my classmates being loudly stoned. He's already told our tutor that he's not going to do any work this week because he's 'ill'.
'You're not writing an essay, are you?' he says to me. 'How boring!'
Now, I'm not usually one to be vindictive. But if the laws of narrative and poetic justice do not cause him to fail his degree and/or fall under a nearby bus at some point in the VERY near future, then I'm going to get annoyed.
Yes, Jessie is still suffering from PMT. Yes, Jessie realises she should get a sense of humour. And a sense of proportion. But GYARGH.
Essay due in seven hours and forty seven minutes. At least six of which really ought to be spent sleeping.
'You're not writing an essay, are you?' he says to me. 'How boring!'
Now, I'm not usually one to be vindictive. But if the laws of narrative and poetic justice do not cause him to fail his degree and/or fall under a nearby bus at some point in the VERY near future, then I'm going to get annoyed.
Yes, Jessie is still suffering from PMT. Yes, Jessie realises she should get a sense of humour. And a sense of proportion. But GYARGH.
Essay due in seven hours and forty seven minutes. At least six of which really ought to be spent sleeping.