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I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

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Thursday, July 28   >>

AICH-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEY-STICKS

Y'know how everytime ya gots'ta do something important, you wake up several times in the morning to make sure you haven't overslept? That happened to me this morning. For this morning, I had to register for...

THE FALL SEMESTER.

Having an obscene number of credits completed, I got the early bird advantage. It was so surreal -- every class I had picked was, well, AVAILABLE.

I don't know about you, but that hasn't happened to me before. To say I am ecstatic would be an understatement. And this whole time, I was shitting bricks. For what? Nothing. Stupid Hugo.

Last night, I had distracted myself. For nearly 4 hours, I had stayed up to figure out how the hell I was supposed to fulfill requirements while maintaining a performance class. I said, "this must be what hell is like -- registering for classes."

But then I realized that hell could be much worse.

I imagine hell to be harsh. I'm sure all that would be played on the radio (or your iPods, you freaking anti-"the man" elitists) would be Paul Anka rock covers. On television, all that would play would be MTV's Laguna Beach. Books would be nothing but Will and Grace scripts, and the newspaper would be entirely controlled by the government (Headline -- TROOPS: IRAQ IS THE NEXT MAI TAI HOT SPOT, WOULD NOMINATE FOR BEST SPRING BREAK EVER).

Then, every time you wake up, you're shaken awake, personally, by Carrot Top and Fran Drescher. And they yell at you. Every day. At 5:30 in the morning.

Then, at noon, every day, there would be mass. And we would pray. To our savior ABU MUSAB AL-ZARQAWI.

In hell, food would be very low in quality. Sandwiches would be made of dog feces and dead baby brains to fool citizens of hell that they'd be eating PB&Js. For water, well, there would be none. Bile would be the only liquid available.

Means of communication wouldn't exist in hell, either. Phones? Gone. Internet? Pft, never more. Instant Messaging? Well, only for the devil (screen name RedHt4u6969).

Everyone would be separated in hell. Just think of Dante's Inferno, but on a much more discriminate level. Doctors and somewhat-good mothers would go to a higher level of citizenship. At the bottom of the hell barrel would be Presidents of the United States and bloggers. Slighty higher are famed terrorists and viewers of Iron Chef.

Then I got back to figuring out which classes to take. I distracted myself for, at least, 10 minutes.

Well, at least you have something to print out and look at it every time you think you have it bad. Think of it as those stupid fucking motivational calendars, just way more cooler.

Hell can be pretty bad. So I guess we should soak life up before it's gone and enjoy it, no matter what the circumstances be. Like all our parental units have told us at least once before, it could be much, much worse.

Unless you live in, like, the midwest.