We're painting it red tonight

It's been a brutal two weeks. Wednesday's paper saw me frantically reading through the vast amounts of material right until the very last minute. I slept for a grand total of an hour that night because I was so stressed and there was so much to cover. I zipped through an entire species twenty minutes before I left the house. After the gruelling 3-hour paper, when I went to get my car, I was so tired that I couldn't remember where I parked it, and had to wander around the carpark for a bit hoping I wouldn't fall over from exhaustion before I found it.

We've all been reduced to physical wrecks, apparently. One (male) friend reported feeling nauseous every time he looked at the texts we were all frantically mugging. The pet mope's boyfriend has lost 10 pounds in the last two weeks. But the worst (also best) was a lady in my year (who could pip Hiroshima for funniest Japanese person ever) who told me with great distress that the morning of the paper, she'd been to the bathroom no less than 5 times and the stress had given her haemarrhoids.

"I could see my anus in the mirror! My OWN ANUS!"

I hadn't laughed that hard in months.

Last paper was today. Thank god. I don't think any of us could survive any more.

Now, however, I've just found out that I've been (obliviously) embroiled in some sort of ridiculous schoolgirl politics for at least two months, leading to some mad bitchiness (again, I was oblivious) and K getting really, really pissed on my behalf, which is kind of sweet in a weird way. I'm sure I could type this up better but I'm tired. Take this a placeholder because believe you me, I WILL want to bitch about this at some time in the future when I don't feel like the room is swimming.

On another note, Cpt. Starlight came back on Monday! But I haven't seen him at all because of the special academic hell I've been going through. Apparently, he got lost at sea on Wednesday. In a very macho fashion. There were night-vision goggles involved. And body armour. And maybe sharks. Raawwrr.

He's leaving for two weeks tomorrow. And comes back the day after I fly home. Like, seriously. Sheesh. Guess I won't be seeing that cute butt for a very long time. If at all. Sigh.

LabradorBoy has started calling me 'baby'. And 'kitten'. And he keeps telling me how he's thinking of me. Again, sigh. I think it's time for him exit stage left.

I haven't smoked in more than 2 weeks.

That's gong to change tonight.