The final final.

I killed my GPA on my final final exam today. It was Calculus IV. It was bad.

Usually I do really well in math. It's actually my best subject. I just didn't spend enough time going through the textbook this semester. I spent most of my time studying for dynamics, statistics, and mechanics of materials. I'm going to do fine in those classes, but math, oh math, whyyyyy??

Last night I spent 30 minutes rotating a pack of ice over the three main regions of my face. My mom read an acne book that recommended the ice-pack technique after a healthy helping of benzoyl peroxide. Amazingly, I think it worked. She's been telling me how great my skin looks all day today. It kinda cheered me up after my calc exam dragged my battered body through the mine field of college. Okay, it probably wasn't that bad, but it sure felt awful.

About a week ago, a girl in my class asked me, "Do you know that your pants have holes in them? What happened?!?! Did you fall down... a lot?" I responded by explaining to her that the system does not wish for me to wear unholy pants. My response to her:

"I tried my best to buy an intact pair of jeans, but I was unsuccessful in my search. Honestly, I could not find a decent pair of jeans that fit me that did NOT already have holes, before I even had the chance to fall down in them or to climb over fences and get them caught on rusty metal protrusions. No, they forced me into their mindless stupidity by not allowing me a choice. One of the holes was unintentionally made by me while actually wearing them, but the other two and a half were there since the beginning, sitting in the store for me, watching my desperate and pointless search, waiting for me to cave in and grudgingly purchase them."