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.


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