Sunday, November 13, 2011

Douchery Chronicles: Lecture Woes

Ok, let me start out by saying this post is strictly venting about a certain class I'm taking, and may contain a few accentuations for the sake of comedic value. But, on the whole, this is me purely exuding my frustrations and animosity harbored towards this fucking class that feels like a blood sucking leech on my  soul.

I'm not going to divulge too much detail by virtue of trying to keep this *classy* trash-talking, but if you're close to me you know which class I'm talking about because I'm always in the mood to drop kick a puppy in the gallbladder when I bitch about it.

I have this lecture on Mondays and Wednesdays, and I would rather have a threesome with my grandparents than go to it. The material itself is rather rudimentary, however the instructor can't seem to convey it in a manner that us students can understand and grasp. And come exam time, we fail harder than Ginger Spice's attempt at a solo career.

In addition to the perpetual instructional ineptitude, her painfully meticulous grading criteria is decaying my grade in the class. GOD FORBID I USE THE FONT CAMBRIA INSTEAD OF TIMES NEW ROMAN. Or if my heading is .00000000284 inches away from how she wants it to be. What is this poppycock? I'm losing points on the most trivial things. I don't mean to sound like a snobby point-accumulator, but this is just ridiculous. I always acknowledge professors' preferences, but if you take points off because of something completely irrelevant, I pray you get a kidney stone the size of a Smart Car.

Ok, that's enough venting. In other Greg Mania news: (It's not a Greg Mania blog post without a few shameless gratuitous shots of myself)

This is what happens when you forget your arsenal of hair products in New York. 

It was also my good friend Sophia's birthday this weekend, so naturally I gave her the royal Mania treatment: (Happy birthday, baby!)

(So yeah, there goes my chances of getting a job.)

I also attended my school's fashion show, which was very nicely put together. Kudos for intense theatricality, fabulous garments, and sick playlist. You can tell there was a lot of hard work put into the show.

Now this is not directed just at this fashion show, but I swear a drunk infant could walk better in stilettos than some models. Make sure your break your heels in before you hit the runway! 

Anyways, this week is going to kick my ass. As most of you can tell via my social media posts, I'm going through a ~turbulent~ time, so I appreciate you sticking by me. Love you all so much.


Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Mental Vomit

(This post has been brought to you by copious amounts of booze and iTunes' depressing musical selection tonight. If it gets any more dismal I'm going to have to take it shopping at Hot Topic.)

Days pass, moments slip between our fingers like grains of sand,

One look from you, and I'm done. 

Thoughts pass, lonely nights. Stench of wine on my breath, 

Wondering, I think about you. Are you thinking about me? 

A promise I made to myself, broken, flooded with empty regrets and hopeful wishes, endless melodies and enigmatic words. 

Unforeseen circumstances, emotional palindromes, my heart strapped into a rollercoaster.

I've learned not fight what I feel, so I took a chance. Put everything on the line, risking it time and time again, just for that one wonderful moment. 

Are you hungry for wonderful? It doesn't need to be perfect. It doesn't need to be healthy. It could be wonderful.

You scroll, whimsical elements mirror off your captivating eyes, trust that if you put your heart on a dish I won't swallow it. 

An arsenal of memories we need to put our faith in, I lose myself again. 

A virtuoso of words, I find the right ones I want to say non-existent. I find sanctuary in writing them down, but this time they don't come to me. 

Fear is but a figment of our imagination. Break down the barriers to see the light. 

Taste the tip with me, I promise it's worth it.

Whut da fuck.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

HOLY DI$CO TITS: 100th Post!

Needless to say, I'm overwhelmingly speechless at the fact that this is my 100th blog post on Le Cabaret.  This blog, birthed from the abyss of my creative anxiety, has been my baby since its inception back in January (Click HERE to read the very first post. Awww *tear*). And, 100 posts and 25,000+ hits later, I'm still exuding my psycho babble. I can't believe this page has been viewed over 25,000 times and still counting. So I want to say a MASSIVE thank you to everyone who has read and said even one nice thing. I can't tell you the utter delight I feel when people come up to me and say how much they love my blog. So eternal gratitude pointed at you, darling nuggets.

Also, I just wanted to share with you last month's demographic of who read this blog and where they came from:

GHANA? MAYA ANGELOU, DAT YOU GURL? Thank you for making me Tom Cruise-jumping-on-Oprah's-couch happy. I feel like I'm changing the world one skinny jean at a time. I remember saying on my first blog post that I had no idea what correlation future posts would make...and to be frankly honest, I still don't. HA!

When I first came up with the idea to write, I wanted to embody Enlightenment thinker and social critic Voltaire, whose writing was ahead of his time. He would express his ideas utilizing satire to make them appeal to a mass audience. That's basically what I want to do. This blog's mantra is fundamentally entertainment, yet I want to convey serious issues to my audience as well. And I hope to continue to inspire and make you laugh.

In other GregMania news, I'm on a new, effective diet:

(Beer and Netflix)

So, cheers to another 100 posts! I'm in midst of those abominable midterms, so look out for a tequila spurred post with targeted animosity towards these awful assessments.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas GPA genocide. 

If anyone needs me, I'll be playing "gotcha nose!" with Voldemort.