People tell me slow my roll, I'm screaming out, FUCK THAT

I'm starting to believe that spring fever is in full effect over me. I just finished an 8 hour work shift and literally don't think I can remember anything remarkable happening to me all day. The only thing giving me motivation is excercise, but since my sinuses have been jam packed for the past four days, I haven't been able to do much of that either.
I know mid terms just ended and all, but theres definitely honey bunches of other shit I need to get done by the time summer rolls around. I need a new job, because the commute would be a bitch when living at home again and it simply doesn't pay THAT well. I need to tackle more financial issues with my school, because there seems to be an infinite amount of things I'm doing wrong for them. And I need to complete 8 more hours of casework with a crisis center in the middle of sketch-ass junkie-town.

The mere thought of handling these things is enough to make me want to crawl under my covers with a joint and a box of oreos. I know I'm not the only one like this either. Plenty of my friends have been telling me the exact same thing. Especially now that I've transferred to a huge school, there is literally no night out of the week where I couldn't go out and find somewhere to get wasted. I may have been able to work and party full time over the summer, but when it comes to being academically challenged, I simply can't keep doing this to myself.

I need a way to get sex and drinking off my mind for another month and a half. I need this for myself so badly, I just wish I could make school and work fun.

Do they have reform schools for adults?

FML Doesn't Even Come Close...

Although this happened almost a week ago now, I haven't been able to sit down and write about it without becoming so angry that I ended up storming off and either cried or banged my head against the wall.

I borrowed my mother's car last Friday evening because I was going to use it to move a couch from their basement into my apartment in the west loop. Mind you, my parents never let me use their car, ever. This was an occasion among occasions. This may sound unreasonable by a normal person's standards, but my parents don't really cut me much of a break. I pay for pretty much everything on my own, and if I want a car, I need to save up the money from my job and buy one myself. Yeah, yeah, financial responsibility or something like that. I digress.

So since having this car at my disposal was such a momentous occasion, I decided there would be no harm in having a little fun with it instead of returning it home right away. I had the car until about 2am, when I decided I would make the long journey home. I still had to unload the couch from the trunk, so I parked in what I thought was a loading zone and had a friend of mine carry it into the room with me. When I walked back outside, I watched in horror as a tow truck was hauling away with my mother's precious new car. Now, I'm a pretty fast sprinter when I need to be, so I booked it after this truck, and ran along side them for a block or two, waving my hands and begging them to stop. After clearly making eye contact with me, they accelerated and sped off.

When I finally got to the impound lot, I noticed that there was a big, spray painted, "BURN IN HELL, PIGS" on the door leading into the office. Yep, those were pretty much my thoughts exactly. I was informed that I would have to drop two hundo if I wanted my car back. TWO FUCKING HUNDRED DOLLARS. As someone who works pretty much any time she doesn't have class to cover her rent and other expenses, this is a huge burn on my checking account. As if they couldn't have made it any more difficult, they insisted that I pay in cash only. While trying to find a bank that was open at 3am, one of the men working for the towing company told me that he could lend me the cash if I wanted to just write him a check. "Thank god, there are still good people in the world," I thought. Yeah, I might have thanked him too soon.

So I pay the ridiculous fee and get my car home without my parents ever knowing. But sure enough, the guy from the towing company decided that he was going to try calling me and asking me if I would like to go to dinner with him sometime. It's been over a week and he's still texting me asking absurd questions, like whether or not I'm a lesbian. He asked for my license plate number, saying he "decided to see what he can do about refunding my money". He's also asked me if i needed a car for my own, I'm assuming that of which his company obtained from fucking other people over the same way they fucked me. I guess this is karma's way of not letting me forget about what a dumbass I was, but come on. How do you shoot down a guy that has all of your personal information in the records at his skeevy workplace? I'm not really sure how to handle this, but right now I'll top off this story with a big, old fashioned Fuck My Life.