It’s only 9:30 and I’m totes getting in bed.

I have a huge headache and I got like 4 hours of sleep between all the studying for my stupid, stupid statistics exam this morning, so I think I deserve an early night. My dad called me and asked if I could get up early tomorrow so that I can get to Houston early and help him grocery shop for the holiday. (He’s one of those husbands that will spend four hours at the supermarket when he only has to get three things because he contemplates every single brand based on whether or not he’s heard of/had it before, ingredients, and cost per ounce. Ooooh, daddy. He’s hopeless.)

Today was kinda weird, but I absolutely adore the students in my late Tuesday lab. They never fail to make me laugh. (And it doesn’t hurt that one of them is adorable and very sweet and actually pays attention while I lecture.)

I would just like to close this random, random post with a message for BBM in the UK: START WORKING AGAIN, DAMMIT. I NEED MY DAILY BEC CHATS. >:[

Good grief.

My twenty-three year old sister just asked me how to toast bread in the oven. And then could not figure out how to get bread and cheese to the bottom of the bowl after heating up French onion soup. *facepalm*

How does she live alone? I don’t even know.

Last week, I was trying to prepare my parents for meeting my boss at graduation, because meeting him does take preparation. I was trying to describe him as accurately as possible, but I’m not sure that they really believed me and, when I think about it, I understand completely. I’ve known him for two years, so I know that someone that nasty can exist, but for people that have never met him, or been around him, I can understand how they would be skeptical. Because he shouldn’t exist. So here’s a little rundown. 

My boss is in his late 60’s, maybe his early 70’s. He’s a diabetic who doesn’t take insulin and doesn’t control what he eats. In fact, he hardly ever even eats. He smokes about six packs a day, is an alcoholic, and has false teeth that are constantly falling out. He never bathes (okay, maybe once a month), doesn’t wear deodorant, and never does laundry. He also never shaves, so he has a small, furry animal growing on his face.

He really likes to stand around with his hands resting on top of his head, spreading his stink. I’m pretty sure he is the filthiest person alive and just being around him makes me want to shower and burn whatever clothing I am currently wearing. 

I will definitely not be sad to say goodbye to him.