The Pissed List: Finals are FINALLY Over

[I like to think of myself as a pretty easy going gal, and try not to sweat the small stuff. But sometimes (ok, maybe slightly more often) the general cluelessness, carelessness and overall stupididty of some things and or/people really gets to me. I find that venting is the most efficient way to rid myself of the stress that idiots, wrong meal orders, lack of cell phone ettiquette and cheese flavored products (that don’t even contain any freaking cheese!) induce.

By Kari

So, in an attempt to avoid an ulcer or an unfortuante road rage incident, I vent to you, dear reader. Please feel free to join in and comment about anything–really, anything–that pissed. you. off. this week. Let it all hang out. I feel you.]

People who talk in the library:

Within the stacks, there is always a pretty clear-cut volume hierarchy. You know the second floor computer lounge is bound to be buzzing with group discussions and Facebook revelers taking a break from the books. You also are well aware that the most hidden recesses with “QUIET ZONE” flyers plastered everywhere are meant to be serenely silent. This means that you— Pencil Tap to the Baseline of “Heartless” Guy —are not welcome. You, Girl Who Answers Her Super Effing Loud Ring Tone and Proceeds to Discuss Last Night’s Exploits Loudly, should excuse yourself (and forget your student ID so you can’t get back into the library). “I will listen to my iPod at ear shattering treble and, yes I know you can hear it across the room” Man, I will gladly drop your Nano in my Starbucks if you don’t crank it down. And especially you two, Pretentious Indie D-Bags Discussing Kafka Loudly Enough So We All Know How Devastatingly Brilliant You Are—I might be impressed if I were not attempting to study for my OWN final, not yours.

Chicken Littles.

Everyone has encountered at least one individual with the gift to spread anxiety like a pandemic. It’s hard to tell if their jittery twitching is nerve, coffee, or crack induced as they rattle off dates mentioned in your European History class. Your study group becomes hazardous to your health with this study buddy around—their catastrophic what-if scenarios about the final are ulcer inducing, and your confidence level will plummet as they convince themselves (and you) that achieving anything above a 69 % in this course is utterly ridiculous and completely impossible. If they can’t convince you that the sky is falling, they’ll get you to believe your GPA is.

Mr. and Ms. “I Can Get a C – on the Final and Still Keep My A.”

They already aced the first exams, the midterm and the term paper. While their scholastic planning ahead is most definitely admirable, how are you not ITALS going to let jealousy get the best of you and be irritated as hell by them? Yes, in theory, you could have spent a little more time studying for that first test, but it was the Monday after the first home game weekend! So now you’re stuck busting your ass for a test that’s 45% of your grade while your totally prepared friends skim their notes before heading out to enjoy the end of semester “SH**-SHOW BLOWOUT” your favorite bar is having. Just hope they don’t turn into…

People Apparently Without Finals or Respect for Others.

College is the land of the forgiving. Here, and only here, can you get away with having a living room rave until 4 am…on a Tuesday. While not exactly courteous, it is still excusable to pound on your neighbor’s door after bar crawls and ask them if you can squeeze through their window, onto their roof and into your window after you locked yourself out. And relying upon the kindness of strangers (to take you to the nearest fast food restaurant) is pretty run of the mill, if not advisable for your safety. Hell, you can even throw enormous keggers that flood out of your dorm/ apartment and into the parking lot and your neighbors won’t call the cops! Unless it’s finals week. This means you, a**holes with the amplifiers that live two doors down from me. This means you, beer pong team who live beneath me and evidently needed a practice tournament the night before my Classical Myth exam. This most definitely means you, drunk girls stumbling/ screeching around directly beneath my balcony. Count your blessings that my level- headed roommate was too enveloped in Business Calc to aid me in emptying a bucket of ice water over the railing to help you sober up.

Whew. Ok, now I’ve taken my last sip swig of RedBull, I’m selling back my books and burning my notes, then I am headed home for a month of sheer, decidedly un-educational bliss. What had you almost ripping out your hair (or the pages of your Stats book) this week?