Awww yeahhh, bitch!

I don't even know why I made such an irrelevant title for this. I suppose it sort of describes my mood right now. I took my Chinese final which means now I can be stressed out about other things. Yeah!

I obtained a bitchin' spot in one of the leather armchairs in the East lounge in the Union. First of all, I need to figure out if there are North and West lounges, because that shit has been confusing me all year, and I feel like it's about time I figured it out. Secondly, I'm going to have to surrender my bitchin' spot because I told Jesse I would call and wake him up, and I don't want to be that douchey loser that talks on their cell phone in the middle of the quiet lounge. This is a fucking good spot, too. It has an ottoman and everything. Goddammit, I could totally take a nap here before my next class. The things I do for love.

My best friend is excited by the idea of being a home wrecker. I can see this elation, and it scares me. Why is it that, you know, bitches be so crazy? In all fairness, it could just be completely innocent on his part, but it still weirds me out. I mean, he is paying for her coffee. This makes me laugh for layers of reasons that I won't take the time to go into, but it should leave us all wondering if the poor anarchist bastard is aware of his contribution to the pursuit of the bourgeois lifestyle. Because that's what's happening. Today. I feel like someone should tell him he would do better to shoot her than to buy her shit, but that's not my job.

Yes, I've spent a fair amount of time with anarchists now, and all that I took away from it was that you should shoot rich people and cops or something like that. Ahh, violent revolution. It's like Soviet Russia, but the people are doing the brain draining instead of the government. I watched that movie in Chinese class in high school about Communism. Don't fucking shoot doctors because your wife will die because she's bleeding out her vag. Lesson learned, kids. "I don't know nothin' about birthin' no babies!" Word.

I'm already fifteen minutes late at waking Jesse up, but it's a punishment for making me lose my bitchin' spot. Just kidding, I actually sort of just got distracted, and also if someone asks me to wake them up at a certain time, I automatically assume we mean fifteen minutes later. Because waking up on time is fucking depressing. So although I have many more interesting things to say, I must depart. Especially since this guy just walked in speaking Russian very loudly on his cell phone. Shit's goin' down; I still don't trust those socialist bastards. Although Putin has beautiful eyes, but I'm pretty sure he's not even president anymore. What? Oh yeah, I'm going.