Ayoooo, I’m tired of all this Psychologyyyyy.
No, Psychology, I don’t want anymore from you so just go away. I have to use technology to study you because the readings are conveniently located online, where a mass of websites turn my studying time into a facebook fest (kind of). You know, I could just print the readings to salvage my brain from dastardly distractions, but lately I’ve been feeling bad for trees and octopi for all the ink they provide. So, I’ll pass and even if I don’t score an 100 on this final test, at least I ensured that a centimeter of a tree may continue living, as well as allowing an octopus to relish its ink for a while longer. (I know that we don’t collect ink from octopi, but it makes this seem more dramatic, even though I disdain them not only because they have awkwardly-shaped alien heads, but also because they steal merfolk’s voices).
As you can tell, I’m going insane. I want to dance right now in the library, but I’m slightly frightened that someone might post something strange about me on likealittle.com. It used to be a guilty pleasure to see humorous flirting attempts written by people on campus, but lately, it has transformed into some sick place to search for potential – you can fill in the blank. <- That isn’t supposed to contain a double-meaning, unlike many of the posts on that potentially amazing site. Oh well, it’s just another disappointment, another letdown, go figure.
If you want to witness what “dangerously exciting” things are happening in your neck of the woods, click the link and you’ll enter something you’ll never want to get out of. But for me, it’s just blah blah blah those weirdos need to zip their lips like a padlock and throw away the key because they’re just getting nasty. Forget about meeting me in the back with the jack and the jukebox because hey I’m underage and I haven’t seen a jukebox in like 7 years. That’s all, fools.