I'm excited. Super excited. So excited, I'm having trouble not grinning constantly every time I think about it. But then, we all know what this is about, right? I mean, the symptoms are classic- super happy, super grinning, just... super! haha You're WRONG!!!! It's NOT A BOY!

I'm sooooo excited about my new job. Granted, I will come within 20 seconds of frostbite every Sunday and starve and be grumpy and curse in the future, but I cannot wait to teach riding lessons. Who'd have thought I'd get a job I not only can do well, but like to do??

Like Julia Roberts said, "It's easy to clean up when you got money." Well, for the amount of money I have in the kind of sport riding is, I've gotten pretty far. And... I'm pretty goddamn excited to be able to teach kids.

This class has got me in a tizz. I'm so worked up, I'm ready to pick fights with restaurant.com! I know, absolutely ridiculous. But you know what? Thye deserved it! JERKS! RAAAHHHHH!!!!

And RAHHHHHHHRRRRRR To Major, too! Fucking psycho lunatic, Goddamm asshole who gives up these stupid problems and thes ffucking labs that don't work because our equipment sucks and our grades depend on it, and strssed!?!? NO! I'm not stressed at all! And my fucking roommates watch me watch TV and ask me, in their oh so caring kind of way, "What, no homework?" And I grit my teeth and smile politely, "Oh yeah... You know, just procrastinating!" because I am... But what I really want to do is whip around, bare my teeth and scream, "YES!!! YES!!! I have TONS!!! of homeowkr, but I can't do ANY of it because I'm obviously FUCKING RETARDED!!! Thank you MAJOR for pointing out the fact that so many people were right and I"mGODDAMN STUPID!" Then the sky clears and I realize that it's just my roommate, sweet and barbie-esque who has her own tons of homework and I'm singing to the choir! And I actually smile and glance sideways, almost flirtatiously, but actually just to avoid her eye so she doesn't see if that inner demon slips out, "Oh, c'mon! You know me!! Always wait to the last minute!" Not true, but... hey, whatever. Think what you will.

I'm breathing again... This is why I have a Blogger, so I don't take these insane rages and take them out on -someone-... just -something-... But stressed? No... Not stressed. Frustrated, angry, quickly burning out, and... ready to scream and/or cry. Whichever happens to seem more appropriate at the moment.

I love the end of the semester.