***TEH ANGER***
Apr. 20th, 2007 01:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tabular_rasaOkay, so my good mood is gone.
Wheeler. Fucking Wheeler. Like, two feet away from Fontbonne. On the fourth fucking floor. If I had wanted to live in fucking WGE again I would have signed up in the inter-ResCollege round and gotten a good room, like on the first two floors of Shepley, again. Now, we're all just the dregs of WGE.
On top of that, we're facing the backside of the building-- meaning there's a road just out back, which will be loud, and possibly fucking floodlights, as the University has just come out with all these new security measures in the wake of the sexual assault on campus from a few months ago. I am an anal sleeper. I will be the first to admit it. Just having my head against the window, facing the sun, through which it rises early every morning, has been noticeably detrimental to my sleep this year. It's not my fault I'm that way. Don't tell me to "suck it up," that I ought to be more adaptable, or that college is the time of my life I'm supposed to be learning to sleep in ridiculous situations (what kind of dumb-ass skill is that, anyway?). So having a floodlight and a busy road outside my window, through the walls that are thin as paper in these buildings-- combined with the indignity is enough to make me want to walk over to ResLife right now and shit on someone's face.
(Seriously-- were we like the fucking last people to get assigned? Is every single sophomore in the Village, now, or something???).
I just called Michellanne, and we argued over whether we should blame more my bad luck or God having chosen her as the manifestation of all the suffering of the Jews.
I guess at least the good news is Keith and Henry and their suite is right up there along with us . . .
If anyone talks to me about housing in any positive light (how happy they are about their own assignment, etc . . . ) in contrast to my complaining, which will, I warn, be inevitable, they will be kicked in the nuts.
Edit (12:47 pm): . . . or threaten them with poo.
Me: I was looking at those ridiculous cat macros because they make me happy in the way housing for next year does not.
Rick: Did you get nothing?
Me: I got a house, but not where I wanted. Oh well. I dislike intra-ResCollege rounds. (Lol, house . . . room).
Rick: Where is it?
Me: Fontbonne.
Rick: Hahaha no seriously. That'd be awesome.
Me: Wheeler. Aka . . . Fontbonne.
Rick: Ha.
Me: Danny will never come visit me, lol.
Rick: Ohh, because he still hasn't been in Wheeler . . .
Me: (brb laundry put-in time)
Me: Yes.
Rick: That was a quick brb.
Me: No, now I'm brb . . . but laundry is fast since it is right across the hall from me. I am on the fourth floor of Wheeler. Laundry will be so far away now, as will be everything.
Rick: Cry, cry.
Me: Oh, poo. You probably like where you live.
Rick: Mudd. I rule.
Me: I am going to poo on you. Read status: http://wustl.facebook.com/profile.php?id=3109133
Rick: Please don't poo on me. Seriously.
Me: Lol . . .
Rick. DON'T.
Me: Um . . . *evil laugh*?
Rick: Um no.
Me: (do you really not put it past me to go on a wild poo-flinging streak?)
Rick: No, I don't not put it past you.
Wheeler. Fucking Wheeler. Like, two feet away from Fontbonne. On the fourth fucking floor. If I had wanted to live in fucking WGE again I would have signed up in the inter-ResCollege round and gotten a good room, like on the first two floors of Shepley, again. Now, we're all just the dregs of WGE.
On top of that, we're facing the backside of the building-- meaning there's a road just out back, which will be loud, and possibly fucking floodlights, as the University has just come out with all these new security measures in the wake of the sexual assault on campus from a few months ago. I am an anal sleeper. I will be the first to admit it. Just having my head against the window, facing the sun, through which it rises early every morning, has been noticeably detrimental to my sleep this year. It's not my fault I'm that way. Don't tell me to "suck it up," that I ought to be more adaptable, or that college is the time of my life I'm supposed to be learning to sleep in ridiculous situations (what kind of dumb-ass skill is that, anyway?). So having a floodlight and a busy road outside my window, through the walls that are thin as paper in these buildings-- combined with the indignity is enough to make me want to walk over to ResLife right now and shit on someone's face.
(Seriously-- were we like the fucking last people to get assigned? Is every single sophomore in the Village, now, or something???).
I just called Michellanne, and we argued over whether we should blame more my bad luck or God having chosen her as the manifestation of all the suffering of the Jews.
I guess at least the good news is Keith and Henry and their suite is right up there along with us . . .
If anyone talks to me about housing in any positive light (how happy they are about their own assignment, etc . . . ) in contrast to my complaining, which will, I warn, be inevitable, they will be kicked in the nuts.
Edit (12:47 pm): . . . or threaten them with poo.
Me: I was looking at those ridiculous cat macros because they make me happy in the way housing for next year does not.
Rick: Did you get nothing?
Me: I got a house, but not where I wanted. Oh well. I dislike intra-ResCollege rounds. (Lol, house . . . room).
Rick: Where is it?
Me: Fontbonne.
Rick: Hahaha no seriously. That'd be awesome.
Me: Wheeler. Aka . . . Fontbonne.
Rick: Ha.
Me: Danny will never come visit me, lol.
Rick: Ohh, because he still hasn't been in Wheeler . . .
Me: (brb laundry put-in time)
Me: Yes.
Rick: That was a quick brb.
Me: No, now I'm brb . . . but laundry is fast since it is right across the hall from me. I am on the fourth floor of Wheeler. Laundry will be so far away now, as will be everything.
Rick: Cry, cry.
Me: Oh, poo. You probably like where you live.
Rick: Mudd. I rule.
Me: I am going to poo on you. Read status: http://wustl.facebook.com/profile.php?id=3109133
Rick: Please don't poo on me. Seriously.
Me: Lol . . .
Rick. DON'T.
Me: Um . . . *evil laugh*?
Rick: Um no.
Me: (do you really not put it past me to go on a wild poo-flinging streak?)
Rick: No, I don't not put it past you.
