cba = can't be arsed

Revision is nonexistent. I should be going over lectures, I should be going through past exam papers, I should be reading up on technologies of everyday life, I should be drilling into my head how exactly the brain and its behaviours work. It's taken me about a week to even get up to date on my LAUNDRY and they expect me to study for exams. Everyone else is living in the library. I just don't work like that. Sixteen years of schooling and I still don't know how to study.

Also, I have no food. And I am very very hungry. 

Also, I have dyed random chunks of my underlayers red. 

Last night was "Drink the Bar Dry," the last night the bar at Gabs is open till September. Therefore, all the booze must go. Being on JCR committee, I promised I'd stop by and see how it was all going down. I went down in sweats only to rope myself into manning the entryway because I felt bad that the girls at the table really wanted to go inside. So I went back to my room, put on some real clothes, grabbed a book (The Virgin Suicides, which I have just completed and is so so good), and headed back down. For the next two and a half hours, till about 1 am, I sat at a table in the entryway, asking for entry fees and marking the back of their hands. This also included telling approximately a thousand guys where the bathroom was, having random pissed people come up and talk to us, pointedly ignoring said people by seeming to be extremely engrossed in my book, complaining about the stench of humans and convincing my colleagues that I do not sweat because I'm not human. 

Then, as the party died down, we, the JCR committee and any volunteers, spent the next hour picking up crap around the common room, waiting for 2am to strike so we could kick people out, finish cleaning and go to sleep. While I was waiting, I was sitting with a friend who was with her friend who was a Korean coursemate who lived (or lives?) in -- wait for it -- Kuwait. And not just Kuwait -- Salwa, Kuwait which is where I lived for six years. We didn't go to the same school and didn't have any mutual friends but it was still cool that we had that common factor. When he found out I lived in Kuwait, he shook my hand, like he was proud to meet another MidEast dweller because suddenly I had risen in his eyes. As he was leaving, I happened to be standing at the door and he said bye and then began to pull out his phone in the process of asking me for my number. I did not want to give him my number because I had met him 30 minutes ago and I just don't give out my number like that. 

So as he's pulling out his phone, I think up this genius excuse: "I don't have a phone."

... Who doesn't have a phone these days? What the hell? Could I not think of anything else, maybe something MORE LEGIT? Oh my goodness. He gave me the weirdest look and asked, of course, "You don't have a phone?!" And I said, uh yeah I find it easier that way. Like I live in the Stone Age. He then asked if I had a number in Kuwait. I blinked and said, I have one in Los Angeles yeah but not here. And he was like oh okay well let me know when you get a contract! as he walked out the door. And then I burst out laughing. Good times.

Oh but no worries, friends, he's found a way to contact me nonetheless. After I stayed to mop the entire JCR floor that had been puked on, drunk on, spilled on, sweated on, I went back to my room (3 am ish) to find a friend request waiting for me from my new best friend. Sigh.

My life is so awesome, right?

I'll get back to "studying" now until Eurovision tonight.