Ah, Start of the Fresh Semester...

How you smell like stink-ass motherf-ing manure--let us only hope you nurture the growth of all that is planted in you.

Wow. That sounded way nicer than I feel at the moment.

So yeah. Am I about to kill someone soon? Yes.

Will it be you? No.

Will it be the administration at my school? Uh, fuck yeah.

Apparently things are going haywire in the Land of Massage Therapy.

Last Tuesday I got a call that our business class had been switched from Tuesday nights, 6-9pm, to Wednesday nights, 7-10pm. Kind of a stupid time since I won't be able to come straight from work, but no major skin off my back.

Friday morning, I got a call that our Monday-night A&P class has been cancelled. Which means I have to take it the only other time offered: 8:30am - 12:30pm on Tuesdays. Which means my work schedule is gonna look silly-ass ridiculous: 6:30am to 8am, 1pm to 8pm on Tuesdays. Which also means my friend R___ (who was also signed up for this night class) is no doubt shitting in his Crocs right now since he had his state-board classes scheduled for--you guessed it--Tuesday morning/afternoon.

And then today I emailed some woman in financial aid for about the 15th time to find out about a tuition-waiver in the amount of $700 I was told about when I first toured the school--one which students receive if they maintain a certain grade-point average through (I believe) the fourth semester of their second year.

The response:

"I don't recollect us having anything like that, though perhaps I could be wrong. Do you have any paperwork about it from when you were given that information?"

Um, no.

"Yeah, I really don't think we offer anything like that."

Apparently the administration at my school is the equivalent of my sheister mechanics at Midas:

"We have to replace your tie-rod."

Um, I just had it replaced less than a year ago.

"Really? Which one?"

The left front one.

"Oh, yeah. Uh, this is the right front one."

Uh huh. And my left nipple's name is Robert.