A Gross Exaggeration

Dear Blog,

I know it's a no-no to have an affair with a teacher in high school, but I'm in college now. Do the rules still apply? What if it's a torrid love affair? Can I have one of those with a professor? But what if he has a tongue ring?

Fuck you, blog, and your righteousness.

I took a quiz in psychology today, aptly named "How Passionate Are You?" Turns out, I'm a very passionate lover. I scored a 251/270. Which roughly translates to a 92.96296296. That's the first "A" I've made in psychology all semester. (Cue Auntie: "How could you fail psychology? Dumb blondes go to college to major in psychology, you twat.")

Idea for a prank: (April fools?) Sneak into the cafeteria (it's easier than it sounds) and fill the juice dispensers with vodka. Arrive early at breakfast and watch the madness ensue, then bolt once the authoritative figures realize someone's spiked the juice bar.

There has been talk of using my genius for good, not evil, but where's the satisfaction in that?

Just kidding, blog.

My bed's broken. It's been broken since the beginning of the semester, when my dad realized it and said "huh, that's weird. Look at that." Everytime I climb up in it, it creaks and shakes eerily and scarily. A couple of nights ago, it made a popping noise and then got really quiet. I wouldn't be so worried, except I know that if the bed were to collapse in the middle of the night, the chances of me surviving would be slim if not nil. I mean, it's me. And it's a tall bed.

Here's to making it through the night,

P. I. Staker