I’m a drama queen if that’s your thing, baby

Thursday 27; May, 1999

email ` gbook ` i-seek-you ` handwriting
“I’m a drama queen if that’s your thing, baby” (I LOVE YOU KINI!!!)

Got up at 9am and managed to drag my essay’s word count up to 1998, which I figured was close enough, so long as I wrote on the cover sheet that it was 2250.

So then I go to print it out, get most of it done, and the printer jams. Like, there’s a half a sheet of paper somewhere inside of it still. My computer started beeping like mad at me, phones were ringing and I just couldn’t take it all, after like no sleep. So I decided to just print the fucker out at tech.

Right, so off I go to tech. I’m feeling hot and bothered, and then I get in a lift where people cram themselves in, packed to the brim with uglyness. It stops like really frequently, and I’m getting more and more annoyed, when, lo and behold, on the tenth floor, the lift stops again. And doesn’t start. And the doors don’t open. Oh choice. Oh yay. Terrfiic. Fantastique. Magnificant. You get the general idea. So someone rings the alarm, and the only other person in the lift who appears to speak English tells them off. However, eventually the doors open, and we all rushed out. And I run up four flights of stairs to the 14 floor computer lab, only to discover it is totally full and get told off by a tutor as an added bonus. So, I drag myself up to the 15th floor, and find that totally full. Just when I think I am going to scream/cry, I spot Nice Andrew, and he very nicely lets me use his computer to print out my stuff. Then I trundle back down to the 14th to find a stappler and turn it in, but then realise that FUCK the staplers and submission boxes are on the 15th floor.

However, also on the 15th floor are our pigeon holes, and that’s when I discover that I got an A+ on my talkback essay. Yes, that’s right. And it’s worth 40% of our paper too.

YAAAAAAAAAY!!!! I haven’t had a GOOD mark in so long, I’d almost forgotten what it feels like. I grinned all the way down in the elevator, in an almost smittenkitten kinda way. But the grin didn’t last days, unlike smittenkitteness has in the past.

I bought a V on the way up to TV Production, but it didn’t help much. I felt really exhausted through the whole workshop. But we had some fun anyways. However – Peter Mahoney, I may have said nasty things to you, but I have NEVER spent the almost entirety of an interview talking about your breasts. That’s sexual harrassment, my friend. And I know you’re joking, but it still isn’t cool.

So there.

Crackwhored in the evening really quickly, and got home in time for Shortland Street – YAY. Gail was over, which was cool, cos I think she’s choice. They watched Poltergiest but I went to bed and tried to nap – and somehow I couldn’t sleep. Then Karen arrived. YAAAAAAAAAAY!

I love my sister. Lots and lots. And lots. However, she’s sleeping in my bed. So I want simon to go to bed now, cos I’m fucking tired and wanna go to bed. I’m sleeping in the lounge, you see. Stink.

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