Four out of four concluded. The verdict: Fucksocks!

Christ. I was just thrown out of the exam areas, having finished the 4th of four exams these last three months. Phew.
Well, *finished* would be kind of wrongly put. I’ve concluded the term, but I didn’t finish this last one. There was simply not enough time.

Normall, I’d give a shit.
But when you not merely believe, but know, that you’ve got what it takes to get an A – well, it sucks.

The exam area was like Alcatraz. If you see the inmates as snotty teenagers (or snotty people in their thirties, it goes for the same thing) and the guards as senior citizens trying to be mean-lookin. It was a freaggin’ tennis hall! Can you believe it? The air was dry and smelled like sweat and dirt. The floor was this green carpet which constantly fucked up my legs’ resting position, the coffee they did have which we were prohibited from buying was DECAF!

Sorry, I just have to let this out. If you want, you can skip this post.

I will not get an A on this one. It’s a chink in my armor. A disgrace to my grace. A perverted distorted image of the angel I am.
Talked to this girl at the tube station, waiting for the train with me. "That’s life" she said. Christ. What is it Tom says at Nighthawks?

"that’s life," that’s what all the people say
ridin’ high in April,
seriously shot down in May

I’m seriously shot down.
But I’m glad it’s over. Round one, that is. Now I’m gonna get out of this joint, get myself a Subway sandwhich, find my favourite café and buy a cognac. Did I say a cognac? I meant a glass of cognac. But, hey, you never know! Before I get back to work starting from tomorrow, I’m gonna get high, record the world’s greatest album, find the love of my life and go to the toilet without washing my hands. How’s that for seriously shot down?!

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