Alright.

College has been fun, but I’ll take a diploma now.

I’m already sick of class and it’s the second day. It’s not boring or anything, I just really hate learning.

P.S. Just kidding. My classes are actually kind of fantastic, especially Russian. My professors seem like cool people. I just have a really, REALLY annoying alarm clock that basically ensures that I start every day pissed off.

P.P.S. MARCHING BAND.

Okay, that’s all.

SIDE NOTE.

I made a large cardboard robocactus two days ago. His name is Hector. And now, our entire room smells like rabbit shit. The sour, gross kind. (Believe me, I am a connoisseur of animal poop. Observing it was my job, and it was never one to be taken lightly.)

SINCE WHEN DOES CARDBOARD DO THAT? EVEN FEBREEZE WILL NOT REMOVE THE ODOR. DAMN.

Hector is jammed in my window, proudly displayed to the North Quad, to air him out a little bit. If the smell doesn’t dissipate, I’m afraid he’ll have to be done away with. That would make me so sad; he’s like my child. If I have to get rid of him, I’ll never create with cardboard again; I don’t think my fragile heart could take another beating like that.

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY.

IS THE SMELL OF ANIMAL SHIT REALLY GOING TO FOLLOW ME AROUND FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE?

No one will ever marry me. Except maybe someone nasally-impaired. Like that man who was mauled by a bear and lost half of his face! I should call him.

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