Behold, I will create new heavens and a new earth.
The former things will not be remembered,
nor will they come to mind.

Isaiah 65:17

omg...I'm being Punk'd, right...?

Come on...

People do NOT really act like this.

No they don't. I can't believe it, this bitch HAAAAASSSS to be joking...

So, for some reason I decided to study at Starbucks today. Yes, it's Thursday, the Bar is on Tuesday, I need to study, WHATEVER. I can't take the library anymore, my bed is way too comfortable to be in the same room with during these trying times, and I need caffeene, so here I am, rocking it like a hurricaine.

Um...apparently, I never noticed before, but EVERYBODY in Santa Monica is FUGLY as HELL and works in the entertainment industry. But, behind the scenes, because they're too nasty to be in front of the camera. Which, I guess gives people the idea that they can act like J-LO since they're SOOOOO much BETTER than J-LO.

Whatever, here's how it went down.

Me: (on the celly) Aww....thanks ass...I love you too...yeah, I'll be fine, Starbucks is cool, I have my earplugs...

BITCHOLA DUPREE: (audible sigh, grunting noises, clearing her throat)...

Me: um...ahem...whatever...no, nothing...yeah, okay, have a good day, ok?

WHORINA MCFUGLY: (COVERS HER EARS WITH HER HANDS LIKE A 6 YEAR OLD!!!!)

Me: WOW...I didn't realize how loud my voice is over the 15 people, Harry Connick Jr. and cappuccino makers! hahaha...no, it's cool, I have to go anyway...love you...

SUPER BITCH: UGGGHHH...(turns her back to me)

Me: click.
-------------10 minutes later----------------------------

After Fugly McBitcherson's friend meet her at the table next to me and they have a fucking 15 minute buisness meeting about how to cut producers fees out of a movie, while constantly checking to see if I'm listening LIKE I GIVE A SHIT..turns to me and says:

EXCUUUUUUUUUUUSE ME....

Me: (I just look at her)

F McB: Can I unplug your computer?

Me: No.

F McB: But I need to charge mine and you've been charging yours for like an hour. I'm sure you can go for a few minutes without the cord.

Me: I need it plugged in.

F McB: (GETS UP AND LOOKS AT MY FUCKING SCREEN!!!!!) You're playing solitaire.

Me: (X out the screen, revealing three split screen outlines on display) Actually, I'm studying for the BAR.

F McB: (noticing the flashcards, outlines, file folders, highlighters, pens, nail clippings, razor blades, mirrors, and thin layer of white substance covering my computer screen...) Oh.

---sits down, FIVE FEET AWAY FROM ME----

F McB: I guess she's in college. Taking some test or something...isn't school out for the summer...? Come on, lets go...

End Scene.


In retrospect,and on paper, it doesn't sound that horrible. But in real life, I almost put a screwdriver through her eyeball.

And that would be then intentional torts assault and battery.

How's studying for the bar...??? OH, IT'S GREAAAATTTT!!!!

Im back. Kinda. I took a nine hour practice test today. Whatevs. It's like totally cool. I don't even, like, care, man. Yeah, I mean, I was all like totally hungover 'cause my mom made me drink margaritas from her magic bullet, but, like, once I got into it, man, it was totally like, not even that bad. For reals. I don't know what everyone's freaking about, dude. It's just like...some stupid test or something. who cares....I like went to school for three years, so i had to learn something, right? Tootalllllyyyyyyyy......heh heh heh....

WHATEVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!! I swear to God you guys, if one more person tells me that it's all going to be "cool" or that it's "almost over" or that "if [I] just relax [I'll] do fine" I'm going to throw whatever is in my hand at their head. And if whatever I'm holding won't do damage because it's too light or insubstantial, I'll pretend to throw it and let my fist follow. BECAUSE IT'S NOT GOING TO BE ALRIGHT. PEOPLE FAIL THIS THING ALL THE TIME, MOTHERFUCKERS. Actually, assholes, FIFTY PERCENT OF PEOPLE FAIL THIS THING ALL THE TIME. Douchebags. and THAT is why people with the aformentioned continence become presidents, and not lawyers. Oh....why, you ask? Because there's not a 6 hour a day 3 day long test of your intellectual prowess/freakoutability-level prerequisite. So, from now on, STOP FUCKING TALKING TO ME ABOUT THE FUCKING BAR. PRETEND IT DOESN'T EXIST. DO NOT SAY ANYTHING TO ME if you see me out and about for the magical hours of daylight that I actually somehow allow myself to absorb every few weeks. Just FUCK OFF.

unless you want to buy me a delicious treat or rub my shoulders. Then, ask my boyfriend's permission and proceed if he so allows. Because I don't even want to hear you ask me if it's okay, and I've designated him as my gatekeeper. Because so far he's the only one I haven't had the urge to obliterate. yet.