Please, Someone Get Me Out of Here
I had self-imposed a ban on blogging until I got all those stupid pictures up. I didn't realize how INCREDIBLY, MIND-NUMBINGLY IRRITATING it is to do anything on dialup. I hate dialup. Hate dialup. So for now there are no pictures. Sorry.
It's not like I really have anything interesting to say, anyway. East Hellhole has, as is its wont, plunged me into a state of simultaneous boredom, lethargy, and (relative) obesity. It is also depriving me of my will to live. The only things that keep me going are Harry Potter and random, unexpected encounters with people with whom I went to high school. They're funny. According to sources, all the popular girls have ballooned out. This makes me happy in a very mean, vindictive, and wrong way. Bad Allison. Bad. Unfortunately, I am incapable of feeling compassion for those who have abused me. Jesus I am not.
Jerry Orbach died, and that makes me sad. We will not, of course, talk about the 120,000 people who died whose names I do not know. As a typical specimen of the self-absorbed-I'm-moving-to-Canada generation currently coming into power, I find it emotionally cheaper to withdraw and forget. Naturally superior 40-somethings, remember the Vietnam protests and your tear gas scars (emotional, are they?); lament away.
I will never get into grad school.
I want to leave this place now.