Hello you silent rogues that are my devoted readers. After numerous complaints regarding my lack of updates (all from one person, mind you) I decided to better myself in light of the recently begun semester that I shall aspire not to fail, and show you all what a studious person I have now sworn to become and write a little piece of nonsense for your enjoyment. I just got back from getting a manicure. The intense pain of that is always a good time. And by pain, I don’t mean the 50 bucks it cost me. I mean the pleasant sensation of having my fingernails sanded down to being paper thin and then having boiling gel melted into them. But it was of course all well worth it seeing as I now have fingernails akin to those seen on the fingers of the pretty girls on TV. The lengths women will go to... I have to express my disdain for the males of this world at this point. I go to these lengths for you. All for you and your precious attention. I could try to deny it and say that I do it for myself, but the more perceptive of you would possibly realise that I do not 1. Have brazilian bikini waxes, 2. Have regular pedicures, 3. Sport french manicures that cost me an arm and a leg, not to mention unbearable, 4. Do hour long beauty routines for my skin every day, 5. Make sure that my body below my neck is completely hairless as if I were an alien, 6. Walk around in heels that could make a grown man cry just by trying them on, 7. Pluck my eyebrows, 8. Dye my hair, 9. constantly obsess about my weight, for my own damn health and well being. And still, for all my troubles, I can’t get a single date. The one date I do get, with a man boardering on one thousand years old, however good it was, resulted in my dismissal just a few weeks later. Now, I ask you penis holders, and let me be eloquent about it: “What the dilly, yo?” Anyways. I’ve gotten off topic. Where was I? Oh, yes. Manicure. Well, upon my arrival home after the immense torture I had undergone, I was greeted by one of the doormen from the titty bar I used to frequent (I’d advise you not to ask). He is apparently not satisfied with being a bouncer at the world’s shittiest establishment, he is also a postal worker. And low and behold, he was here to deliver me a package. Now, upon receiving this package I became very excited at the prospect that I might possibly be receiving a bomb of some sort from some unknown terrorist lurking behind enemy lines, building bombs out of toenail clippings in some deep, dark cave. So you can only imagine the haste in which I tore into the wrappings, only to find in it a sweet little birthday present from a friend. Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix. Alas, I am a geek of such alarming magnitude that I had in fact already purchased aforementioned book and read it much to my enjoyment. I now am faced with the daunting task of having to actually return a product to an internet website, which I don’t quite know how to do, and even if I did I’m sure it would fall neatly into the catagory of things I’ll never get around to doing even if I live to be a hundred. And since I only have approx. 30 days, I just don’t see it happening.