Wait, what?

It is Wednesday (?) and I possibly have to give a speech tomorrow and I'm just now starting. And by just now starting I mean I'm writing this blog post to bitch about having to write a freaking speech. I know from experience it will not be pretty no matter when I give it, but it really annoys me that I have no idea when I have to give this speech because my ancient teacher has decided to pick us at random. I get that he's old school, but it's annoying and unneeded stress to have to be prepared at all times and have all my materials carried around with me. I'm so annoyed with this class. It is really useless.

In other news, my dog has found my camera. It was under the couch (?) the whole time. I'm pretty sure that demon dog actually hid it, but I can't prove it so I'm just going to accept it and be happy to have my camera back.

I must write this speech.

Crooked Fingers

As I was flipping my good friend Clare off yesterday, she said to me "Marisa, are your fingers crooked?" I, of course, know the answer to that question and the answer is: Yes, they are all pretty crooked. This doesn't really effect me too badly, I can still write and knit and whatever, but it's sort of annoying. They tend to hurt a lot if I've been writing for say, more than a page or two. If people notice them they usually ask if I've broken my finger, but I looked at my baby picture and there I am, in all my crooked fingered glory.

Whatever, I can still knit, and the second I find my stupid camera, there are going to be pictures here of my kick ass zombie dolls. I feel like they are my babies. Clare also had the audacity to call me crafty. I have some strange stigma about that word, probably because my gma is like a Martha Stewart-crafter and I don't like that, but I suppose I have those genes as well as crooked hand genes.

I can't wait to be out of school. Just 35 more class days.