photo b9f7327c-37d1-4207-82b0-77196b19a9a2_zps75b1c764.jpg
25 years old. Ex-ex-pat. Wandering Californian. Pseudo historian. Grad student. Queer. Beer enthusiast. Anglophile. Theoretical time traveler. Part time librarian. Full time loser. The usual.

 

I’m getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow morning and I just took the first dose of the Valium my oral surgeon gave me (and you know your Mom is a nurse when she refers to your doctor not as “Doctor H” or “Martin H” but as “Marty”) about 45 minutes ago and I’m going to go to bed before this turns into Em Liveblogs Her First Time Taking Valium but fuuuuuuuuuuuck I am not happy about this.

Just got off the phone with the college registrar’s office for the FOURTH time asking about the transcripts they are supposed to have sent to my (hopeful) grad program.


They assure me the address was correct, they sent two official transcripts, they went out two Wednesdays ago and again last Thursday. Yet the grad program still does not have them and if they don’t by Friday (the deadline was actually last Friday but they allow 1 week leeway for documents) then I don’t even know.


So help me, if I do not get into this program because of postal service fuckery/general incompetence, there will be vengeance.

Guys I am actually significantly stressed out. I requested these transcripts nearly two months ago. This should not be happening.

The nice thing: She sometimes practices flute and occasionally sings. In my kinder moods, I will admit that she has a very nice voice. In my more Everything Is Horrible moods, I feel like I live with a goddamn Disney princess only minus the cleaning.
I don’t need to have the “my flat mate doesn’t clean anything ever except, sometimes, her dishes (after 3 days)” conversation because it’s been done (which doesn’t diminish the fact that it is so horribly, sadly true) but I’d like to have the oh my god, stop breaking everything in the flat and then refusing to acknowledge it is broken conversation.
I can totally fix this shit. (“This shit” consisting, to date, of: leaking shower head, innumerable clogged drains, busted refrigerator handle, and now a broken kitchen drawer) Not to perpetuate stereotypes but in all honesty, I am queer, I am a mechanic’s daughter, and I was a theatre kid in a past life. If you think I don’t know my way around a set of tools you are sadly mistaken.
But please, fix the shit you break? Or at least show some recognition of the fact that it is broken? If I don’t get my deposit back because of this bullshit there will be vengeance.

The nice thing: She sometimes practices flute and occasionally sings. In my kinder moods, I will admit that she has a very nice voice. In my more Everything Is Horrible moods, I feel like I live with a goddamn Disney princess only minus the cleaning.

I don’t need to have the “my flat mate doesn’t clean anything ever except, sometimes, her dishes (after 3 days)” conversation because it’s been done (which doesn’t diminish the fact that it is so horribly, sadly true) but I’d like to have the oh my god, stop breaking everything in the flat and then refusing to acknowledge it is broken conversation.

I can totally fix this shit. (“This shit” consisting, to date, of: leaking shower head, innumerable clogged drains, busted refrigerator handle, and now a broken kitchen drawer) Not to perpetuate stereotypes but in all honesty, I am queer, I am a mechanic’s daughter, and I was a theatre kid in a past life. If you think I don’t know my way around a set of tools you are sadly mistaken.

But please, fix the shit you break? Or at least show some recognition of the fact that it is broken? If I don’t get my deposit back because of this bullshit there will be vengeance.

itslikebluejuice:

roll-a-d20-and-kiss-me:

tyleroakley:

baldurboo:

crisscockfer:

headmasterzefron:

little-hansel:

thatbritishsmile:

spiceysteel:

lilli-of-the-mountain:

messiahofmirth:

b1gb00tyb1tch3s:

c-c-chuck:

kiwibutt:

xybutt:

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

i want to ride it around

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT.

what…the fuck is that.

what

WHY HAS NO ONE ANSWERED THIS QUESTION. FUCK.

itslikebluejuice:

roll-a-d20-and-kiss-me:

tyleroakley:

baldurboo:

crisscockfer:

headmasterzefron:

little-hansel:

thatbritishsmile:

spiceysteel:

lilli-of-the-mountain:

messiahofmirth:

b1gb00tyb1tch3s:

c-c-chuck:

kiwibutt:

xybutt:

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

i want to ride it around

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

what the fuck is that

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT.

what…the fuck is that.

what

WHY HAS NO ONE ANSWERED THIS QUESTION. FUCK.

(Source: thelolgifs)

Misadventures of my Janky Apartment, Especially the Bathroom. Alternatively titled: Everything I Own/Rent is Broken.
>The doorbell sticks. Especially when the trash collectors come and want to be let into the courtyard at ass o’clock. And let me tell you what, that son of a bitch is LOUD.
>Flat mate never cleans anything, ever. Nor does she take out the trash. Not once since she’s lived here. Not once in 4 months. This is not an exaggeration. She puts her trash next to the bin rather than empty the bin. What is wrong with her?
>Sometimes the heat just…doesn’t work. What?
>Bad news, the shower hose is broken. Good news, it’s simple as fuck  to fix. Bad news, I have to go buy a new shower hose. Good news, I get  to keep up my reputation as a Mechanic’s Daughter Who Fixes Her Own  Shit.
>For anyone who’s ever actually experienced the sheer jank that is my bathroom (I think that’s about 2 of you poor souls) I don’t have to explain anything. I’m pretty sure that space was never meant to be a bathroom. I’m pretty sure it was meant to be a crawl space. It is, at its widest, about 30 inches/76cm and I’ll be damned if it’s more than 3 metres/9.5 feet long. To get into the shower you have to basically crawl over the toilet. I have never been so happy to be as small of a human as I am until that bathroom crawl space came into my life.
>Also! There’s the window that doesn’t close in the bathroom. Have I mentioned that?
>Worse news, one of the shower pipes is broken. Still worse, I don’t know how to fix it. (Basic carpentry: yes. Standard car repair: yes. Extremely basic plumbing: yes. Anything beyond a clogged drain: oh, fuck.) Still worse: I was supposed to go visit my Gingerman (Ginger + German = sit your ass down, I am hilarious) this morning but OH NO waiting on a plumber until tomorrow morning.
>I guess this is the part where I’m glad that the landlord’s brother in law is a plumber who owes him a favour so he’ll come in when the rest of the plumbers in this country are on vacation until January 1? Whatever, I now understand why this apartment is approximately €500 cheaper per month than the last one.
>Good news: German Oma gave me a basket of cookies for Christmas. Hello, breakfast!
(And yes I’d rather have a bathroom crawl space than no bathroom at all but come on all 3 places I lived as a student were way nicer than this. Maybe I am doing it wrong. Or went to a fancyass college. Oops.)

Misadventures of my Janky Apartment, Especially the Bathroom. Alternatively titled: Everything I Own/Rent is Broken.

>The doorbell sticks. Especially when the trash collectors come and want to be let into the courtyard at ass o’clock. And let me tell you what, that son of a bitch is LOUD.

>Flat mate never cleans anything, ever. Nor does she take out the trash. Not once since she’s lived here. Not once in 4 months. This is not an exaggeration. She puts her trash next to the bin rather than empty the bin. What is wrong with her?

>Sometimes the heat just…doesn’t work. What?

>Bad news, the shower hose is broken. Good news, it’s simple as fuck to fix. Bad news, I have to go buy a new shower hose. Good news, I get to keep up my reputation as a Mechanic’s Daughter Who Fixes Her Own Shit.

>For anyone who’s ever actually experienced the sheer jank that is my bathroom (I think that’s about 2 of you poor souls) I don’t have to explain anything. I’m pretty sure that space was never meant to be a bathroom. I’m pretty sure it was meant to be a crawl space. It is, at its widest, about 30 inches/76cm and I’ll be damned if it’s more than 3 metres/9.5 feet long. To get into the shower you have to basically crawl over the toilet. I have never been so happy to be as small of a human as I am until that bathroom crawl space came into my life.

>Also! There’s the window that doesn’t close in the bathroom. Have I mentioned that?

>Worse news, one of the shower pipes is broken. Still worse, I don’t know how to fix it. (Basic carpentry: yes. Standard car repair: yes. Extremely basic plumbing: yes. Anything beyond a clogged drain: oh, fuck.) Still worse: I was supposed to go visit my Gingerman (Ginger + German = sit your ass down, I am hilarious) this morning but OH NO waiting on a plumber until tomorrow morning.

>I guess this is the part where I’m glad that the landlord’s brother in law is a plumber who owes him a favour so he’ll come in when the rest of the plumbers in this country are on vacation until January 1? Whatever, I now understand why this apartment is approximately €500 cheaper per month than the last one.

>Good news: German Oma gave me a basket of cookies for Christmas. Hello, breakfast!

(And yes I’d rather have a bathroom crawl space than no bathroom at all but come on all 3 places I lived as a student were way nicer than this. Maybe I am doing it wrong. Or went to a fancyass college. Oops.)