SICK OF RESEARCH!

Can I just say that I am sick to death of spending my weekends in the library and my weeknights at the Starbucks, madly trying to get this "shitpissfuckcuntcocksuckermotherfuckertits" research proposal done? (Carlin, 1972) Did you like my APA format parenthetical citation there? I know you did.

SEVEN HOURS people. I was on the metra at 8:21, in Chicago at 9:10, and then A.S. and I were at the library from fucking 10am to 5pm when it closed. (Same thing LAST Saturday, too). Oh, and in a few short hours, I will be doing the exact same thing on Sunday from 12-5pm.

I have about 25 pages written. My introduction is solid. I have, I would say, 60% of my literature review but I desperately need more sources to get anywhere near the 30 resource mark, let alone 40. A.S. and I spent from 1-5 working on our methodology sections because that was the section we had absolutely no fucking clue how to do. I have about 75% of that done. I WILL get that part done tomorrow because I refuse to spend any more time on it when it makes up a ridiculously small part of my entire paper - 4 pages tops? Then I need to do a conclusion, an abstract, and fucking figure out my citations page because MOTHERFUCKING ENDNOTES DOES NOT WORK ON MY FUCKING COMPUTER'S WORD PROGRAM!! BITCH!

My eyeballs and my brain want to bleed out.

A.S. and I are both clinging to sanity by our fingernails. When we can literally sit on the couches for 30 minutes repeating the "Eye Yam Sofa King We Tod Id" comment from the idiot rightwing blog comment section and laugh hysterically the whole time? Dude, your brain is fried and you know it. Shit, I even recorded us both saying it on my computer. I'm crazy. And THEN, we were all BADLY singing Bon Jovi songs at her house (with her husband). With Indian music playing in the background and the smell of chicken curry in the air. Anyone walking past her apartment window had to be wondering what the fuck was up with the crazies.

We ate too much curry. And then we proceeded to have disgusting conversations about vomit, and birthing and (god help me) CHOADS (?is that the terminology?!) and I think her husband (if not myself as well) is mentally scarred for life. (But we also got him to say "Eye Yam Sofa King We Tod Id" and laughed at him until he finally got it.) Oh, and let's not forget the colonics discussion. Ye gods, that is the DUMBEST THING I HAVE EVER HEARD OF DOING. We were sitting at the dining table (post dinner) and somehow colonics got brought up (not that any of us three have EVER had one, thank CHRIST), but at some point I just shot out: "That is for somoeone who is too ashamed to have anal sex and still wants something shoved up their ass!"

I am nothing if not blunt.

Blunt like the blunt force trauma a sledgehammer, or a very large research proposal, causes to your forehead.

I am hereby filing this entry under "graduate" "assfucking" (not that there was any assfucking involved, just colonics) and "inappropriate discussions".

Sweet: Seven Dirty Words