Green smoothie. Yerba mate.

Yesterday I turned in my last assignment of the semester. This came on the heels of back-to-back all nighters cranking out 12-page papers so I don’t really even know what I wrote on this last one, only that it was turned in. I have teacher training all weekend, a presentation Monday, finals all next week, another teacher training weekend, two weeks off, one class during Maymester and extreme apathy about the entire situation. Stick a fork in me; I’m done.

Ew.

Last night we went to a drag show and told them it was Mitch’s birthday. The night ended with cheese fries.

Yeah, girl.

Dream team.

My best friends from college and I have a password-protected blog where we post life updates, gossip about people we don’t like and debate politics. Most recently we have delved into the topic of circumcision, which has proven most delightful reading material when I’m busy procrastinating my paper deadlines. It is worth noting that the members of this blog include: 3 gay men, 3 straight men (1 married, 1 engaged, 1 single), 3 straight women (all single, right??) and one woman who really likes hockey a lot so we’re not sure. Her live-in boyfriend would probably argue she’s straight. You bet your ass you wish you could read it. Ridiculous human beings.

Most of us, anyway.

After putting my poor (but incredibly resilient) body through hell the last couple months years, I’ve been trying to not just eat coffee. It’s going well.

Fried tofu salad.

Rice, veggies, sweet potato, veggie burger, hummus

I do not know how to use vending machines. But without packed snacks at the ready, I try anyway. Just so you know, if you want the trail mix in D10 you have to push D + 10. If you push D + 1 + 0 you will get peanut butter crackers. This is not the first time I’ve done this. When you put in another dollar to try again (you idiot) you will get it right but your trail mix will get stuck. It turns out this does not only happen in commercials. When you throw your body against the machine like a crazy person to shake the trail mix loose, your snack will not fall to the bottom like you thought it would, but a professor will look at you like you have lost your damn mind. When you put in another dollar (this will be your third), you will finally get it. And both bags of trail mix. And the crackers.

You are a failure.

I’m going to go unleash my hormone-induced rage on my stupid apartment now. And probably bake cookies. Happiest of Fridays to you all.