Which, at best, is nothing but an excuse...

I REALLY should be packing right now.

Like, seriously. It's 2am, I have to get up for work at 8am, work BOTH of my jobs until midnight, then crash at Bryan's for Comi-con. AND I still have to PACK for Comi-con.

But I can't.

Because tomorrow, after the dust settles,

I

will

be

in

COMI-CON!!!!

COMICONCOMICONCOMICONCOMICONCOMICON
COMICONCOMICONCOMICONCOMICONCOMICON
COMICONCOMICONCOMICONCOMICONCOMICON

...and I'm too excited to concentrate on anything else. :)

OMG Comi-con. The heaven for heathens, children of the 80's whose heroes rode starcraft and battled rogues in worlds that all at once were more exquisite and devastating than anything our own could give us. A place to be among those like yourself, after feeling for so long that no more of you existed.

Comi-con.


Understandably I can't think enough to coordinate my brain cells for packing.

...

You know, this is really nothing but an excuse for me. Originally I was not supposed to write anything more in my blog until I came back from Comi-con weekend with adventures and powerpoint pictures, but this energy I feel helps me because
1. I desperately have been wanting to write about a pet peeve of mine on here, and
2. Writing in my blog during times like these supports my other favorite hobby: Procrastination.

But lets move along and talk about my pet peeve before I crash.

SUMMER'S PET PEEVE:

Bathrooms.

Honestly, why? WHY can't I have a nice experience in a bathroom? THE WHOLE BENEFIT to working nights is that there is no bathroom traffic. No self-conscious holding back of natural instinct. No nervous cough to cover what should be a socially acceptable noise/smell but in reality is AN APPARENT TRAVESTY to your "precious little over-sensitive shell."

YOU BASTARDS.LEAVE ME ALONE.

I already have to watch my bathroom manners at home, were I have 5 roommates in unguardedly close proximity at all times. ALREADY I have to catch myself before walking into my internship bathroom, THE ONE bathroom that they have in that damn small house. BUT PLEASE, PLEASE just let me enjoy the sanctity of the bathroom at work.

DON'T talk to me while I'm sitting on the throne. DON'T come just to look at yourself in the mirror for 30 *&%$ MINUTES while I'm holding it in. DON'T sit in the stall right beside me if the other 50 are open and clean. NEVER sit and chat with your friends at the sink. DON'T rattle my door or look in the slit to see if anyone is there. AND FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, DO NOT mess up MY stall - my one little favorite stall in the corner with the broken lightbulb against the wall, and leave it uninhabitable for me!

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!

When I grow up I am going to have a huge bathroom with ONE BIG TOILET just for me. Away from the hub-bub, away from the party - a private santuary FOR MYSELF.





good...great...I'm glad I got that off my chest...


Now I need to pack.