I really dont wanna talk about how I sold my soul to the devil, but it's really the most interesting thing I can think to tell you. Yeah, thats right, I am a slave to the dining hall. I was given the job of taking plates -which were as hot as hell...and we all know who lives there-and putting then at the different areas that needed them. Right away ppl were like oh that sucks, thats the worst job and I thought well it's not so bad, I get to walk around. Plus I get some exercise in my arms from holding the heavy hot ass plates.

Later on...

The person who is running the plates with me takes forever and keeps taking the light stuff-smaller plastic bowls. I was easily doing double the work she was and hid my hatred for her in a tight smile anytime we made eye contact. I just really hate when people slack off. This job also reminded me how much I hate people. The dining hall gets so freakin busy, I'm carrying these crazy hot plates, my arms hurt, I'm getting sweaty, and people don't know how to get out of the way...I envisioned myself tossing them out of the way or tossing a plate at their heads. See what work does?!!

Then I left. I thought it was 9:40 and was like...I'm outta here. Got to my room. Mr.Clock reads: 8:41. I'm all: CRAP! Get back down for another 15 mins. Those minutes were actually quite pleasant.

Later in the night:
I had late night dinner and enjoyed a shake. Because I EARNED it. Damn striaght.

Special thanks to:
My parents for the package
and Miss Maris for the sugar cookies AND zoo plates.

Mom, you got some stiff competition. Everywhere you go, Miss Marie is two steps ahead.