My homework has gin stains on it.

I have a strong disdain over having to take an English composition course this year. Our last class started out with an overview of common grammatical mistakes that I notice and correct everyday in other people's facebook statuses. This class makes me sort of feel like I'm Scott Bakula in Quantum Leap, and he's trapped in the body of a girl in a grade 9 English class, and his job is to keep himself from pulling out her wisdom teeth with a piece of piano string and a door handle.

Here's a list of things I'd rather do than go to class:

• Give Dick Cheney a vodka enema for $10 000
• Practise cello
• Drink myself into an alcohol induced coma
• Cuddle with Burt
• Punch Ann Coulter into a coma
• Rape a comatose Ann Coulter
• Burn every copy of Twilight (the books, DVDs...everything) and Across the Universe
• Hug Darcie
• Make a sandwich
• Eat said sandwich

Today I had a huge crave on for vietnamese food, but I'm too poor to get any vietnoms. So sad. Especially because I am dishing out $600 to get some work done to my cello because the stupid bridge was never made properly. So long money, hello roomy wallet!