tell me all your secrets and your torments

ok, so, i stole ANOTHER cardboard box, bringing my total up to... uh...10, a footlocker, and a map tube. i had to. it was that or throw my sheets, blankets and pillows (and three pairs of pants) away tomorrow morning along with all my showering paraphernalia and all the other shit i've already gotten rid of, including unused lightbulbs, moisturizer and laundry detergent. i'm supposed to get up at 7. it's two. i slept five hours last night. i think i'll shower in the morning.

ok, how rude is it that the storage company doesn't spell things out any more clearly than this? they tell you they're picking up for YOUR DORM at a time and are actually a block away an hour earlier. then they act like you're being rude. they want you to carry all your stuff across the quad to them, when you're paying them. they offer grudgingly to re-schedule, then cancel that, offer the next morning on your way out the door, "but email us to schedule," and then you do, twice, and the motherfuckers don't answer.

just come here. just get close to me and watch me claw your fucking eyes out, you pompous cunts.

it has been agreed that the fact that anger makes me sort of stomp around and want to cry, as opposed to, like, being bitchy to the slimeball bastards who deserve it, is a sign of lameness. meh. at least you all (more or less) love me anyway.

(no subject)

i just had to throw away ... a LOT more stuff than i wanted to. including a blanket and a pillow. goddammit. dj;flajs;dlfja;dsf. and, oh, of COURSE the storage guys didn't email me back!