Bomb: -noun

1. Military. a projectile, formerly usually spherical, filled with a bursting charge and exploded by means of a fuze, by impact, or otherwise, now generally designed to be dropped from an aircraft.

…a few alternate definitions, then

6.  Slang.

or, one might use it as a verb in this example: “Brittney completely bombed her final.”

Yep.  Ouch.  Painful.  And I studied.  I really actually opened the textbook (kind of a big deal for me) read and re-read the notes, made a bunch of flashcards, memorized em… but the 7:30 am time got the best of me.  I know I know more than I knew, but it just wasn’t coming to me.  Four pages of matching– complete clusterfuck; multiple choice about the FCC and cable and who owns what and does broadcast TV use coaxial cables under which Broadcasting Act from what Decade– I’m supposed to KNOW this?!; and then the essays.  Oh baby the essays.  If anything, I might have actually done my best on those, or at least in comparison to the rest of that horrid pile of filth and dribble I turned it after 1.5 hours of pure, horrible mental torture.

ANYWAY.  So then I went home and slept.  And slept some more.  And woke up going BOW HOWDY now if I only had some boxes and some motivation to pack the rest of my apartment, I’d just be super prepared for moving out on Friday!  But nope.  I am currently doing the only thing (well, besides blogging– per threats suggestion from Natalie– and excessive drinking, that’ll come later) that I know to do in these times of severe pseudo-crises… baking.  HEY– I’m legitimately using up many of the ingredients I’ve amassed over a year of living here so really, it’s all working towards the goal of pullin’ up my roots and headin’ out.

Speaking of Natalie (Girrrrl, your name just got mentioned twice in a post) she and I met at the always fabulous Mesa Pizza yesterday because 1. It’s awesome and 2. She had a present to give me.  I KNOW.  How great is she.  Anyway, she FORGOT the present at home, so we noshed on our faboooooosh slices and flirted a bit with the behind-the-counter guys and then she brought me my gift later which I can’t really tell you what it is but it’s a-MAZ-ing.  I will wear it often.  It is a shirt.  That I wanted.  That she got for free through her super secret hook-ups.  She really swims her way into people’s hearts <insert uproarious guffawing here for inside jokes.>

Also, I figured out what NPH’s gift to me is the other day.  Because I am a snoopy bitch.  And because he made the mistake of telling me where one of them came from, and when the source is a town of about 800 people in Iowa, it’s not that hard to Google and figure out the only thing they manufacture there.  (Hint: it’s Wall Lake, Iowa if you’re that interested.)  There are two other similar things, but they are shipping from farther SOUTH– so you know they’re gonna be good.

It’s probably dinnertime where you are, but thanks to my extreme inability to deal with even remotely unnerving situations well, all I’ve been able to pick at today is Rice Krispies.  If you think this is causing me to become fabulously thin, well then you are WRONG, Mister.  Roomie made scrambled eggs and methinks I’ll make some myself, there seems to be a rumbly in my tumbly (Winnie the Pooh reference– GOD I’M MATURE.)