We college students are pretty talented.
We can party long into the night (not that I do, but I intend to).
We can get up the next morning after three hours of sleep and actually function.
We can consume Ramen noodles and coffee in excess and not be affected.
Who else can do that?

Turns out that I have many more words to describe this situation than the one I previously mentioned.

That’s about the extent of my vocabulary right now.

Coming up next: a spectacular diversion! Yet another chance to watch Bridget make a fool of herself in the world of mathematics! All are invited to see the fun and take part in the betting. Refreshments and free T-shirts will be provided. (Refreshments are not vegetarian and the shirts are one-size-fits-all.)
On a serious note, I think maybe this test will be a little easier than the last one.

This feeling has got to go away sometime. It’s not so much that I want to travel. I want an honest-to-goodness adventure, one with monsters and villains and one-in-a-million chances and a happy ending – with a promise of another adventure soon to come.
Oh, wait, I forgot. We don’t live in Middle-Earth. Maybe I need to stop reading altogether. It’s just making me want something I can’t have.
Uggh. And I need to stop thinking, and dreaming, and hoping – hell, why don’t I stop living? I have GOT to do something.

Uggh, I’m getting restless again. WHY can’t I have something a little different??? I don’t want to just sit around. Sure, I love to do that on weekends, but sometimes I just wanna scream because there’s nothing new. If I could at least sit around somewhere else… like in a hammock in Hawaii, or in a thatched hut in Scotland. (Do they still have those? Or was that just in Braveheart?) Okay, fine, so I’m romanticizing travel. And danger. And adventure, and love, and everything else. I dare you to do different for something you desperately want.
I think what I really want is something dangerous. I’m kind of getting tingles right now, just thinking of it.

For some reason, it’s always when I should be doing homework that I want to write, read, or blog. I wonder if this is natural for humans or if it’s just another of the many manifestations of my… oh blast… there IS a word for it… but I can’t remember it right now… GAAH!!!!!
ANYWAY, back to the point. Which is that I want to blog. Oh, I’m at school, BTW. In one of the computer labs. I wonder if people can see what I’m writing. STOP LOOKING, PEOPLE!!!
Oh, never mind, the only person who’s behind me is too short to see above her (his?) computer. Now I feel silly.
My back is KILLING me. And so are my legs. Why is myself killing me??? What have I ever done to it? Well, besides feed it junk food, put it through torturous weight lifting routines, and force it to undergo ruthless tests of agility. And deprive it of sleep. NEVERTHELESS, it’s got no business killing me. And I can’t even kill it to get back at it.
Blast, I wish it was 2:30. 2:30 is such a nice time on these sorts of days. It means SCHOOL’S OUT FOR EVERYBODY AND MY BEST FRIEND CAN COME AND PICK ME UP AND SAVE ME FROM THIS DIABOLICAL NEST OF GENIUSES!!!! Perhaps he will be late. What then?
Silly Bridget. You know what then. Your mind shall be instantly taken over by erroneous beings carrying light sabers and popsicles. So you had better hope with all your cells that he shows up on time.
Note to self: look up the meaning of the word, “erroneous.”
Now I want to talk about the 202nd Panzer division. Was there a 202nd Panzer division? I don’t know. I kind of hope so, because otherwise I’ll be talking about nothing. But I kind of hope not, because if there is, I know nothing about it, and in the process of writing absolute lies about it I will be sure to be picked up not by my best friend but by some sort of organization devoted to eradicating (YES, I know what that word means) all people who tell absolute lies about their beloved 202nd Panzer division.
Oh, goodness. Kevin, pick me up soon. This is rapidly going downhill.
Why can’t I write stories as well I as I can write brainlessness and insanity?
AHA! I have discovered the answer! To write stories takes genius! To write about stupidity does not! Therefore, since I can write about stupidity but not about the lives of fictional people, I…
Never mind. That cannot be the answer.