(no subject)

[anotherusedpage]

So. 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.

Comments

[opportunemoment.livejournal.com]

Jessie doesn't need a sense of proportion. Jessie needs to push him under a bus.

[anotherusedpage.livejournal.com]

*evil grin*

It wasn't weed. It was acid. I have SUCH an urge to say to my tutor, sorry my essay's so shite, but Matt was having an acid trip outside my door and it's kinda distracting.

[dyddgu.livejournal.com]

I second that comment. What an absolute *&^£$. It may be "boring", but it is a thing that has to be done, rather than avoiding it by being stoned and lying to your tutor. You are not "boring" for doing it. He sounds like an absolute fuckwit.
Unfortunately, life is rarely fair, and he probably will pass his degree. We can, however, hope fervently that justice will, in this one case, be done...