I fucking hate students. (Even though I is one.)
Screaming drunken bastards woke me up again at 3:00 AM, and because that clearly wasn't enough, did it again at 4:00 AM. Strangely, no one else on my floor seems to have noticed. Lucky buggers all slept through it. Maybe I'm just a little more sensitive these days, what with being in strange new surroundings and all. I mean, normally I've been known to sleep through earthquakes (literally), lightning storms, and all manner of loud noise. But not these yobbos.
When I finally fell back asleep, shortly before the alarm went off, I had a weird dream regarding... well, I've forgotten what about exactly, but in it my arms were being torn by the jagged metal edges of a fence or something, and I awoke with very real pains in my arms. They were all tingly and full of pins and needles, presumably because my circulation was being cut off by something, somehow. How odd. And disconcerting.
Did some much-needed laundry at the, ah, laundrette. Can you believe there's only 9 washer-dryer combos for something like 600 hall residents?! But, being the only creature stirring at the pickled bozo-resistant hour of 7:00 AM, there was nary another soul there. As someone (D.?) recently reminded me, "Students don't do laundry anyway." Too true, they don't. They simply throw it out the window with their beer bottles and cigarette butts, like they did en masse on their first night in residence halls... what an unholy mess. The requisite warning letters from campus administration made the rounds today, and rightly so in my opinion. Undergrads, ha. What a senseless waste of skin and oxygen.
These are the future leaders of our world? Global warming's too good for 'em. I say flay the buggers alive, bake them under the hot sun until they are fried, THEN drown them in rising sea waters.
(Oh crap, there goes another gaggle of them under my window. Why, oh why, do I not have an M16? More to the point, why am I such a pacifist especially under these circumstances? My window offers such a lovely vantage point of the main walkway, perfect for picking them off -- one yowling, slobbering, pimple-faced buffoon at a time...)
I can only hope they burn themselves out, sooner rather than later. I am not encouraged by one of my flatmates who said to me at dinner, "Don't worry, by the end of the first semester they'll get tired of it and settle in." The end of the first semester!? But I'm only here for two.
Yikes. I've just re-read today's entry and it doesn't come across as being terribly happy, does it? Okay, time to change the subject. While in the laundry room I made fast friends with the hall's resident cat, perhaps not surprisingly called Tom. He's no Albert, but he'll have to do for now. We bonded well.
Went bank shopping today. NatWest, about which I'd heard good things, kept me queuing for the better part of 20 minutes or more, only to be told they don't "do" international students. As if they couldn't have told me outright? I mean, it's not like I didn't announce my intention clearly from the outset. They had to make me wait to hear that? Lloyds, on the other hand, were far more receptive to say the least. So they get a free link and a cautious endorsement, while NatWest earns a big, loud, and supremely wet FART.
Okay, I can't resist, one more gripe then I'm off to bed. Half the reason for my curent grumpy state is that I've tried for days, WEEKS even (long before I left Canada), to make sense of the ticketing and pricing structure of the London transit system, and I'm convinced it just can't be done. It makes about as much sense as their roads, and their town/borough system. If you can explain it to me in less than 500 pages (12-point Times New Roman font, standard 500 word pages, plain English) then you're a better man than I.
Tomorrow: more practice at the British national sport of queuing. In other words, enrollment and induction.
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I'm gonna have to recommend water balloons. And, if you try them first, let me know. But I'm going to emply them real soon. See, in my new apartment, in San Jose, there's a chicken joint just outside my window, and it's a joint where the university kids hang out. All night. Every night. Seems they buy their chicken and then hang out on the sidewalk. And talk. And laugh. And do their annoying kid stuff. At 2:00 in the morning.
I'm loading up them balloons.
99 red ones.
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