Oh the pain, oh the agony! No, not really, I’m just being dramatic. But, I do now have two half-dollar size blisters on the bottom of my feet. Even though it didn’t rain today I decided to switch flip-flops, you know, try to avoid falling on my ass. It worked--I didn’t fall down. But my other flip-flops gave me blisters.

I like going to school here, I really, honestly do. But I just don’t understand why everything is so bloody difficult! They tell the Ph.D. students that we will be given offices in the same building as the English faculty. They never tell us that we have to go pick them ourselves. And how the hell am I supposed to know what to pick? I just look for a desk that isn’t covered in stuff and claimed by somebody, but what if it is? What if I steal someone’s space? Nobody seems worried about it--nobody cares at all. But it’s like it doesn’t occur to anyone that this is my first year. That I might now know what’s going on. I mean really people.

Then there is the wondering for forty days and forty nights in the desert (a little bit literally actually) as I try to find my way from one building to the next and get to my classes on time. Are all the English classes in the same building? No, my first one is at one end of campus, my next one is at the other. Meanwhile I’m in jeans and uncomfortable flip-flops hiking my ass in 110 degree weather all the way.

And finally I come to school only to realize that my afternoon class is at 4, not 1 and I now have three hours to kill and nothing to do it with. So I came home and wrote you all this delightful blog. I’m resting my tootsies in the marvelous air conditioning and hoping that next week perks up. There can only be one first week right?

Oh yeah, and I almost got ran over in the parking garage. This crazy, CRAZY woman come flying around the corner, squeals to a stop in front of my hip, and after I walk past, barely past her car mind you, she squeals her tires as she speeds away. I’m assuming she was suffering from a really intense case of explosive diarrhea and was just doing her best to make it home. That really seems to me the only reason why someone would drive like a COMPLETE ASSHOLE. Well, that or she was just stupid.

I have over used my quotient of capital letters and I apologize. It’s just that I don’t know how else to get across the severity of craziness in that parking garage. I hope you all will forgive me, but I don’t really care. I accepted that I was a bad person long, long ago.

And finally, I feel it worth mentioning that I have landed back into Fraternity/Sorority Hell. Yes, in fact the campus is crawling with members of everyone’s favorite Greek Organizations. The amazing thing is that while I haven’t really been around it since I graduated from Western five years ago all the frat boys still act the same and even look the same. Frosted hair, carrying little to no books, choker-hemp necklaces and spiffy sunglasses. I try not to sterotype, but I’m prejudiced towards Frat Boys. I am, I admit it. I hate them until given a reason not to. It’s wrong, it’s childish and I should certainly know better, but my hate is unreasonable. Well, it might be very reasonable if you knew some of the guys I’ve known in my life. But regardless fraternities do not make boys into bad men. Not really. Even though it seems that way. Even though most learn a lot of bad habits from it. We can’t blame the frat. And I’m not. I promise. Honest.

Ugh. I love Vegas. But I’m kind of hoping it doesn’t take me four years to graduate.