In Which the Protagonist Engages in the Usual Sort of Freak-Out Behavior Related to the Stupid Things She Does When She Knows Better Than to Do Them

Oh. Wow. Look at that. All of my freak-out triggers just fired. Every damn one. Why is it, again, that I don’t date? Ah. Yea. Cause of that. There. This feeling.

I know I’m out of it not just because I flaked out on tonight’s MA class and left work early with the “I have to be up at 4am and spend all day in Indy excuse” but because I stopped by Borders to pick up the new Greenday CD, brought it home, unwrapped it, put it into my computer… and thought:

“Hey, this sounds a lot like U2.”

Look at CD again. Read label again. But the Greenday CD has a bomb on the cover, right?

Oh, shit.

Oh. Dear God. I bought that crappy new U2 CD instead of Greenday.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!

I’ve created my own special kind of hell.

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