On Deadlines and BAMF-ness

My life has been all about procrastination lately. Here's some things on my plate (not that you should really care, because they're quite mundane):

• My application for the Ghana Maymester.
• My application to be a FIG mentor next semester.
• My sociology paper due next week that I've barely started researching.

Now these three things may seem like nothing, but here's what each of them entail.

• Ghana Maymester - Two essays with prompts so generic that it's almost impossible to write something original. Why should I go to Ghana? Because I'm Laura-fuckin'-Covarrubias and I will eradicate AIDS from this God-forsaken planet, that's why. Then I have to make sure that my letter of recommendation gets in without seeming like an impatient bitch - "How's that letter coming, dear instructor? You know, no pressure, but the future of the world hangs in the balance while you twiddle your thumbs."
• FIG Shit - Very generic questions that made me want to barf - What is a FIG mentor? Why would you be a good one? Blablabla toot your own horn while we pretend to care. Then two letters of reference and a resume. Come on, it's not like I'm a registered sex offender. Besides, they're not minors anymore.
• Soc paper - I chose to write about the sociology of traffic and how culture partially determines how people drive. It's pretty interesting, but try narrowing this topic down to something that will have many sources. It's not like twenty researchers are interested in the role cows play in Indian traffic. Due Thursday, so I will be polishing it until three a.m. that day. College.

To top this all off, I have no idea what I'm doing for Halloween. I'm kinda sick about hearing about it, especially since I'm not one of those insanely lucky girls with a size two waist and a C cup. None of my ideas are sexy, which is what girls are expected to be for the occassion, so now I'm just thinking about wearing a wig and a cheap dress and saying I'm a crack whore. Except I'm not skinny, so maybe I'm a pot whore?

Oh, yeah, by the way, I had my cartilage impaled with a metal stick yesterday because I felt like I needed some kind of rite of passage into official un-teenage-dom. Actually, that's what I'm planning on doing on my real birthday on Tuesday with my first tattoo. Yeah, my parents are going to kill me when they discover it someday. But whatevs, right? My body, my right, my fetus!

Anyways, now I have to take iron supplements because I bled everywhere when he removed the whatever it was that was inserted through my skin. It was pretty cool because I finally got to know what it feels like to have a nose bleed - very warm and wet - and I was officially labeled a badass motherfucker. Then I got to go to HEB with a bloody nose and blood stains down my front. Very bamf.

And Miss Devon House did it with me, so she's a bamf too, even though she eats meat and didn't have the whole iron-deficiency problem. But she's a trooper. A sexi trooper.