I just got home from taking my exam. I am pretty sure I passed it. I swear, the professors and counselors up there are nothing but kind and professional, but God forbid you have to deal with any other employee. I swear it is nothing but bad attitude. That stuff used to bother me, but at my ripe, old age of 36 it's like "water off of a duck's back."

Roger's sister is out of the mental hospital. He's just going to wait for her to call him. I can't blame him. If she calls, she calls. If not, oh well.

So I wrote that rant about how much I despise
Walmart right? So what happens? Roger gets me a goddamed fucking Walmart credit card. I'm going to take it into class, slam it down on the table and say, "You may have better grades, but I have a Walmart credit card bitch! Now what?!"

Oh well I am going to attempt to make dinner, I have not been feeling very well the last few days. I'll write about that later if I get up the nerve. I'm not dying or anything.

Take care people.