Wednesday, January 28, 2004
Proof that my subconsious hates me: So, tonight I got an email from a Senior Associate Director of Admission from one of my colleges, telling me that my application is in the final stages of review, and saying, among other things, I plan to make a favorable recommendation on your behalf to our Committee on Admission." So I'm thinking, great! Spectacular! I reply, "Thanks so much, John! I truly appreciate it!" Hit send.
BUT
His name is not John. It's David.
My brain has malfunctioned and screwed me over yet again. I hit the back button in the midst of my panic, so he got two of the same retarded mistakes. Then I managed to type out an akward appology. Totally pathetic. I hope that lightning strikes his computer and all the emails recieved within the last few hours are lost and gone forever.
What I want to know is, why must I be so preoccupied with people named John that I can't even fucking do ONE thing right? WHY?
FUCK!
BUT
His name is not John. It's David.
My brain has malfunctioned and screwed me over yet again. I hit the back button in the midst of my panic, so he got two of the same retarded mistakes. Then I managed to type out an akward appology. Totally pathetic. I hope that lightning strikes his computer and all the emails recieved within the last few hours are lost and gone forever.
What I want to know is, why must I be so preoccupied with people named John that I can't even fucking do ONE thing right? WHY?
FUCK!
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