11/15/2005 - 11:45 p.m. | implosion

Not exactly what we call a joyful return to form, but lord, we are back. I am right in the middle of some hell that almost makes the hell from before look pleasurable by comparison. Of course, the hell before could be mostly attributed to bad luck whereas this time, stupid shit I've done has finally come back to haunt me.

Firstly, I am right in the midst of writing a paper for my advertising history class. I'm more than a little out of practice, so I'm not relishing the idea of banging out 7 pages (formerly ten, so that's good news) tomorrow night, especially for a class I'm probably going to get kicked in the balls for anyway. Thing is, I tried to go early and get the books I need to read to write the damn thing - you know, pull the old bait-and-switch - but none of the bookstores have it. The Comm library does, but unfortunately they are on reserve there, which means I am trapped in that hell for the duration of my reading time (some 250 pages). Plus, I have to fight off any like-minded cretins who want the book as well (more than you'd think).

Anyway, I was fairly pleased when I got home this evening, having slogged my way through one whole book and a third of the way through the next (pretentious, arrogant drivel all), when Shelly and I contemplated going out for dinner. First, she noted, there was some mail for me on the banister, including two of those damn skinny threatening envelopes from the bank. Finally, I took a dare and opened one. I was much happier being ignorant. Apparently, I am $336.17 in debt. Minus three hundred dollars. So, I could work for like 2 months at my stupid job and still be in debt. I have no idea how that could have possibly happened. In the last couple weeks alone, I must have dumped in like $500 (a few back paychecks, a little money from my parents, and the entirety of my robot costume winnings), and you're saying I spent all that plus 300?! It seems crazy to me, and I've tried to look into it, but Busey's eBank system is being entirely retarded, so I have no idea what's going on. Has the Comm lab still not paid me yet? Did someone get my card number somehow? And why wouldn't they stop me from using my card when I got into negative dollars? That would've gotten my attention a lot quicker than some letters I thought were out of date. Still, I doubt the knowledge of how I fucked myself is going to actually fix the fact that I'm fucked, so I'm greatly concerned as to what I'm going to do. I mean, Missy already said she'd lend me the money, but then I'm just back to zero, ready to make the whole cycle start again, still owing her everything. I know, I should call my parents, but first I want to learn how this whole clusterfuck started. God, I don't look forward to that conversation. "Yeah, sorry about the car thing from before. I am somehow more retarded than ever. I need, like, another 400 to be merely improverished again, thanks."

So, I'm making myself sick thinking about it, and I really have the urge to, like go binge on something, but of course that costs more money, so I don't know what to do. To be entirely filled with angst, it would not be so bad if I just died right now. Many happy returns!