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More Jagged!

I'm having an exceptionally shitty day, so, I put in Jagged again. It's pathetic, I know, but damn if it isn't necessary. Just look...

So, as you may know, I don't have housing at the moment. I'm still on that FUCKING waiting list at the school, and that means I have to try and find a place by myself, which isn't going over well. Chicohousing.com is supposed to be great, but it sucks much ass. Still, I was holding out hopes on the fact that I would get in, or have money from Uncle Sam to pay for my housing. But I don't know when I'm getting any money. A quick call to Uncle Sam's bitches (aka, the Chico State financial aid office) reveals:


Basically, they sent two notices to my school e-mail account (because, really, I check that all the fucking time!), and told me that I needed to send them a verification form, which is easy enough to do, and also a copy of my parents' taxes. My mother has a fucking hernia each time I ask her to look for those things, and when she finds out why, she'll blame me and blah blah blah. Again, it isn't a very HARD problem to remedy, just annoying. At, it means at the very least, I won't see a damned cent of cash until, at the very least, October, maybe even November. That means no money for books right away (which I can put on the credit card, so no big deal), no money to pay for tuition (but if you're on financial aid they don't charge you because they understand these things), but the big kicker is that, if I have to find my own place, I don't have any money to put a fucking downpayment down. We can do it, I have no doubt we can do it, but this whole thing is just pissing me off beyond all belief. Hence, the Alanis. Perfect, so fitting.

Plus, when I'm telling my dad all of this shit he's giving me a bunch of crap about how he doesn't have the money to give me to help me get a place and how I should have been up on my shit (they've never asked me for anything like that before, and I've done the fucking thing five times... so excuse me for thinking it wouldn't change) and then he's like, after making me feel like s hit, 'it will all work out.' I wanted to smack him SO hard it wasn't even funny. It just was not what I needed at that moment.

And I'm going to work, where I'm sure the printer will be a bitch, and I'll probably be forced to stay until about 5:15/5:30, even though I only work half days so I should get out before Five. More money, sure, but fuck! And then Tom, this guy who is supposed to check the labels for me, never does them on time anymore. Not really his fault, I don't think, but that makes MY job take longer, and add in the printer being a stupid bitch and it just makes for a cocktail of anger and frustration. I, of course, handle it with my typical stoic, understated grace (thus garnering the need for a daytime Emmy), but here I can be unadulterated in my rage!