It's gray and misty outside. The hunkering down for Wilma has already begun, masses of people evacuating both coasts, supplies missing from the shelves of stores. Last year, the year when Orlando got stomped, a category two would have made people snort. But I guess everybody's scared now. I know we're going to get high winds and maybe a good storm, but people have already started calling in sick at work. Jeez.
Got the results of the analytical writing portion of my GRE back, and I did SHOCKINGLY badly. Like, 99% of the people who took the test did better than me. I had to laugh when I saw the score. I can write... I just can't do it in, like, 30 minutes. Twenty five minutes later and I'm still making the thinking face, much less jumping onto the keyboard with all three fingers. If there's ever an emergency writing situation, I'm sunk.
I want to vent a small pet peeve, insignificant really, but it drives me twitchy. OMG DJS WHO CUT OFF OR TALK OVER THE MUSIC MUST BE SMITED, ALL OF THEM, HARD. It is the one unforgivable act, in my book, the one thing that'll make me screech at the top of my lungs, windows open and stopped in traffic. FUCKERS, AIIEERRGH. I'm not tuned in to listen to you.
Okay. I'm good. :)