Frigger

My frigger glasses snapped into two pieces. It wasn't even my fault this time; it was my weak motor skills and lackluster coordination, aight listen: I was holding my glasses in my hands, exiting my room when my hand proceeds to smack itself off the corner of the wall. Frig. I have attended my first class without glasses -- mathematics 101, the most primitive class ever -- and I was wholly confused. The "professor" was blathering on about something and scribbling on the chalk board madly. Due to my inadequate vision, I could not even acknowledge the presence of chalk on the board, save those audio aspects of writing on the blackboard. After two minutes I realized I would never learn anything and thus entered my "high school zone" and began to woolgather and write down odd thoughts and sicko pictures. Before I knew it, the class was over. No wonder I never learned a thing in high school. Ideally, I will order a spanking pair today from Costco but the situation is already dire, and new glasses will take ages to arrive. Friggers.

My lab partner refuses to meet with me and hence our compulsory lab is now four days late. Oh mys, seriously, what the frig? Group projects result in nothing but frustrating failure.

By Jove! a venture to Costco will result in skipping yet another political science class. I despise attendance more than my this course itself. Wait, no I don't. This course is ridiculously vapid and offers no succor to this semester's pseudo-education. Maybe I just don't like learning.

This privileged ingrate from Barcelona offers these semi-related words to my first paragraph:

Don't want to wear glasses
Though I know that I should
So I have to take chances
When I walk through the hood

Forgive the solecisms and I will forgive you.