spoiled chinese girl

That's why when they tell me to update, I'll do it. Bah. I modded my ride a little. just a smidgen. Perfect fork sticker, if it was any bigger it wouldn't be as perfect as it is now. It's slightly hidden, just enough that you have to see it to believe it. And it rules

Ain't it so? I love Danielle. (Update: I now also have the SteelWerks seal of approval!)

In other news, Danielle has a bent left crank. Ted has a bent right crank. They're the same type of cranks. And that means it works out, where I'll buy one set of cranks, and fix two unicycles. Of course Phil is clamouring on about putting smaller cranks on Ted, while I'm thinking I should upgrade the cranks on Danielle. I should shut up now.

But Phil's girlfriend is in town! That's what she's known for. Even though I know her name is Jen. And I got to race Jen up and down the gym, and she kept winning even though I cheated with a bigger wheel. And I got to hang out with Jill and Nathen as well. And we all went unicycling. And I tried to unicycle in the snow again, with powdery snow on top and icy frozen crappy bumpy snow underneath. I didn't get as far, and I fell into soft snow that caused me to now sit in wet pants. But it was fun!

I'm a dork, because all I talk about anymore is unicycles. My piercings are also doing well. My left ear is muchos better than the right one, but I sleep on both sides of my head so I'm not particularly sure why. Maybe because I fiddle with them with dirty fingers and don't clean them at all. Like as in never. Ever. But it works for me for some stupid reason.

Therefore, here it is. I, Angela, am wearing a BME t-shirt where the label says “M/M” Please ignore my dorky pose. Thanks to Jen for the kind donation of the shirt, for the experiment of “Can Angela really fit her belly and boobs into a medium?!?” We now have our answer.

Oh, to anyone wondering, the fit really isn't that bad. The shoulders are a little tighter than I would personally enjoy wearing on a regular basis, and the neck makes me worry because of my spikes in my ears, but other than that it's just a tad snugger than any of my normal t-shirts.

After you read this.. even if I don't speak to you often.. You must post a memory of me. It can be anything you want… it can be good or bad… just so long as it happened. Then post this to your Diary to see what people remember about you.

With all the debates going on about academics not living the real life, I come to this conclusion. I don't want to be an academic. Where else do I get to be sick for five days, completely forget about a project's proposal being due, have my classmate message me just as I'm about to fall asleep at the respectable time of midnight (for a sick person) and then spend the next two hours frantically pounding away at a keyboard to BS through 5 pages of single spaced proposal that is part of a larger evil of BS that will be thrown together and presented wrapped in gold and decorated with red ribbon. Because while it's wrapped in gold and adorned with ribbon, we know its still shit, perhaps our instructor will not.

I also have yet to understand why at one time or another during the past four years everyone has been able to pass off at least one project due to personal problems and not get called on for it, while every “issue” I have had to deal with has been met with “Well you're still a part of our group so we still need your input.” It's disturbing that I am more than willing to do the work of another so they won't get a failing grade which may adversely affect the outcome of the year, while no one ever seems willing to offer me the same courtesy.

Oh, I also went to the gym today, (well, yesterday by now) which went alright but I was definitely feeling sick the whole time, unable to breathe. Then I proceeded to clean my room of the dust kangaroos that had taken residence. While I am adamant that it's aided in my feeling slightly better (after all, wouldn't anyone feel better without two pounds of dust on the floor getting into the air?) it hasn't completely cured me, neither has over-medicating myself with cough syrup that doesn't cure any of my current symptoms.

Why am I still typing? Force of habit after the past two hours of attempting to write a decently coherent 33% of a project analysis proposal I suppose.

I also need to simplify my personal website, which is currently a mess due to my confusing, overly pretentious reasoning to divide topics based on personality traits that don't particularly exist.