Well I already feel like I fail at blogging...

But forgetting that, I am getting close to being done my first week. It's been fairly uneventful, a few quizzes already, got a couple labs out of the way today and now know where all my classes are.

But we're going to talk about lab partner's today.

Have you ever sat down in class, and looked around and by visually inspecting people you can be like, "I CHOOSE YOU GIRL IN PURPLE GLASSES LOOKING SERIOUS!"

Yeah, me too. But for some reason, the serious people never sit next to me. I always seem to attract the scared and nervous anxiety ridden n00bs. This has been happening to me since my first college experience. Except in THAT experience, the n00b I got saddled with was in my colt starting class.

You know what ends up happening? I ended up teaching that horse to tie, pick up his feet, be saddled, mounted both sides, bridled, ground drive, not buck and generally be cool with being ridden. Then when the owner came she got on and fucked it all up.

So, I thought this go 'round I would be much more careful picking my lab partners. Until my bio lab at 9am this morning. I sat down, scouted out the youngin's, but HARK! What do my eyes see?? Someone who appears to be my own age, sitting calmly and actually brought all the required items to class! Alright, plan on. Once told to select lab partners, tackle her. Purple glasses, YOU ARE MINE.

But we were never asked to select. He just said "You and you.". My "you" happens to be a terrified looking blonde who dropped out of University a few years back because she wanted to be with her boyfriend. When presented with our lab assignments she starts going "I HATE it when they don't tell us what to do."

Okay, this bio class happens to want to to design your own experiment, but seriously, you have a beet root, you take a core and then you design what you'll do to that core and why. No biggie right? Maybe it's no biggie because this experiment was practically my job for the past 3 years, but whateve'.

Then we had to write observations of a leaf down to learn how to observe (I guess.). I said "Well, it's diseased." She got scared and dropped it. *face palm*

Although I have to say, she is a nice girl, and I'm smart enough for both of us to do the grunt work, so I won't complain (much) more.

Now, my calculus lab partner is an adorable little gay boy who clung to me the first quiz we had because we had to do it in partners. Today in calc lab though, we needed a third. We got the girl who thinks she knows everything, but has no clue what she's talking about. I appreciate try, but today it was a little like she said "Fuck you math! I'm going to solve this equation with logic I learned in art class! Apple equals the perimeter in regards to the volume."

Yeah. What?

Although I gotta say, she's not the worst, I just wrote down the answers, and let her draw apples. The one I'm really glad I didn't end up with is what I call "The blonde".

Now, blondes of the world, don't get pissed. You KNOW they exists. The one that gives you all the bad name and makes you all look stupid. I first noticed her in my bio lecture. We're about halfway through the lecture and she says "Are we supposed to take notes in this class?"

The prof. looks at her for a second, and says "...if you want to. It would probably help." Then SHE says "Oh, can you go back, I wasn't taking notes."

...You want him to go back to 30 minutes ago? Rearry?

She also likes to answer questions by rearranging the question. Or ask questions by rearranging the previous sentence so that the question basically answers itself. You know how the prof's will sometimes say "There are no stupid questions." it's in the classes that THOSE jovial profs teach that the blonde will be in....juuuuust to prove them wrong.

Anyways no time, calculus quiz to study for, lab to prep for, you know the deal.

Things I should have remembered...

Alright, so it's been mentioned that I've done this whole "School thing" before. So with that in mind, you'd think there would be lessons learned from the first go-round that would transfer to *ding* round two.

Such as....

FUCKING ID PICTURES.

Why do I forget this shit exists every time it rolls around? Honestly, my first time in college I did it both my first and second year. First year I went out with all my new BFFs the night before. Needless to say I looked like a smashed bag of shit the next morning, and after waiting in line for my ID for an hour and a half, trying to hold in the hang-over, I started to resemble the undead.

By the time I had dragged myself in front of the camera guy I had also managed to get all the left-over make-up from the night before off...of one eye. Yep, just one.

"Smile!" said the underpaid Mr.Grumpypants photographer...I managed to smile with half my face. The result? I looked like a zombie. And not one of those freshly made, right out of the grave, type of zombies. No, the type that's been dead for a month and probably smells like hot dogs that were left out in the hot summer sun for a month. That's what I looked like. That's how my picture came out.

Second year rolled around, same day, lesson not learned. Went out again, the night before. Tried a little more to put some effort into my appearance...and what happened instead was my eyeliner was crooked my hair was cowlicked. It was an improvement from second year, but only in a "downtown Red Deer Casino waitress" sort of way. I may not have looked "undead", but I sure looked down trodden.

So today was book buying day. I had to go buy a parking pass and figured "Might as well get mah ID too"

Here's what I forgot about. I had literally JUST rolled out of bed and sauntered down to the college. My face has gone back to pre-teen, I'm breaking out all over the place and have some seriously blotchy skin going on. Aaaand I didn't wear any make-up. I'm fucking old dude, why would I wear any make-up?

Well, when I was in line, looking around at all the youngin's trob-hoppin' in the hall ways, it came to me. Well, first I noticed how NICE all these kids looked, and thought "What the fuck is this? Prom?". Some of these chicks had some pretty spectacular hair.

Then the lady at the desk waved me forward and said "Stand on the blue line." Then "Smile."

FUCK. FUCKING PICTURES.

Oh no. This one came out much better. The first thing I notice when looking at it, is I didn't smile, I snarled, or bared my teeth. Seriously. The next thing is the mass amounts of pimples, and thirdly, and this is the best thing by far about my picture, is I looked sweaty. I'm not sure if it was the light (lets just say it was the light) or by going back to school I've turned back into a grease ball teenager.

That and for some reason I looked really really tan. Which isn't a good look for me, when I get really tan I turn the same colour as my hair and suddenly I resemble a giant bouncy oompa-loompa.

So that's my picture. A sweaty, pimply, snarling oompa-loompa. Gonna be a gewd year.

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!

...

Oh, it's you.
Why hello there random person reading my new blog.

A blog is like an egg, you have to keep it nurtured, warm, and ...make sure you know where you left it so you don't accidentally sit on it? No, wait, that doesn't apply to blogs.

Well whatever, you've found mine.

I sez to myself today I sez "Honey dawl, you say stupid things to amuse yourself. Maybe you should write them down somewhere and then post them publicly on the internet for people to scrutinize and notice your terrible grammar and speeling. I ewes werdz gewd." The last part I just said to myself because I think I'm funny.

So, what's the deal with this shit, you ask? Mind you're own fucking God damned business! Wait, right, I'm writing a blog. It IS your business.

Welp, I'm old. Or some variation of old. I've already been through college once, FIVE FUCKING YEARS AGO (paaaaaah! <---sound of me deflating). In recent history, my job shifted, and while I knew I needed to go back and do something to better myself, it really shifted me into high gear.

Since last October I've been going to school part-time, working full-time as a research technician and running a small business part-time on the side. You want to see someone who has lost her fucking mind? It's this girl right here. All work, no play make me go something something.

I actually just took a month of. I got a few acceptance letters into different Universities and Colleges near me, then waves farewell to my job. Or more so said "Fuuuuuuck this!" threw some post-it notes at the gross staff room fridge and then flounced out.

So now here I am. I've given up my single middle income for student loans, my 'Do-whatever-the-fuck-I-feel-like-when-I-feel-like-it" lifestyle. Eeeep. I can already feel my savings dwindling away. But this is all for the greater good right? No seriously, it is.

Here's the deal though, I'm not going to tell you what I'm planning to be when I'm all frickin' done. It's just going to take a long long time.

And away I go. I'm older than most of my classmates, I've been through this before, and out of real school for years. Will I make it? Fuck yeah, why the hell would you even ask that? Ass.

I'm just going to be the Old Balls of my classes. Maybe I can be like a real old person and give unwanted advice then all all spittled and frazzed when people point out that my unwanted crooning is outdated/wrong/plain stupid. Maybe I'll get a walker! OH MY GAWD! A WALKER!

So on tomorrows schedule, I need to go buy books. I'm taking chem of some sort, bio of some sort, some sort of "holy fuck what the fuck?" math, psyche (because astronomy and physics were full :( ) and some kind of English where I read shit.

Who's hedging bets for how much chedda I'm going to shell. I already know, but to give you a head start, the calculator they recommend getting costs $188 + taxes. BRAAAHH!