DAMMIT BOTCH, YOU SUCK.

my list of things to do consists of 23746817459435 things. my list of accomplished things, consists of 0 things. my suitcases are empty. my bathroom's a disaster and so is my closet. i have this weird tendency to have my bathroom clean before i leave, otherwise i think about it constantly. same goes for my room. i have downed two red bulls, my pen hasn't hit the paper.. and cleaning my sink didn't exactly feed me ideas for the piece(s) i'm working on.. but yo, at least my sink's clean? i don't count that as a thing done, because my sink is just one part of my still disastrous bathroom. mother fucking cock bitch slut. HELP ME BITCHES. i'm in the progress of pulling an all nighter, and i'm not sure how the writing's gonna go down with a brain that hasn't hibernated in four days, but i'm fucking positive the outcome will be comical. times like these i wish maribeth lived next door. i'd make her come over and make me a timetable/chart to complete by certain times. that shit would be all color-coordinated.. probably laminated and shit. & that's totally what i need right now. i'm excited to get the fuck outta this biatch, and nervous too. yo scarborough, ten hours left. i see you baby. i'll be back with another entry to avoid the list of things to do.. til then, red bull you are my bitch.