[ 02-24-05 ] [ 10:35 p.m.]
[ Some people don't get it ]

My roommate doesn't understand why I get so worked up about sports.

Or why it's very, very hard for me when one of my favorite players has to watch the rest of his college career go up in smoke.

But then again, my roommate doesn't understand hardly anything about me, so I don't know why it bothers me.

But it does.

Maybe it's because my roommate, at times, can be a completely condescending bitch and I wish I could tear her hair out. She's exactly the type of bitch I would give anything to slap, especially when she's having one of her "high and mighty" moments.

So I don't know why anything she should have to say to me should matter jack squat to me.

But it does.

Maybe because, as a student "athlete" (I don't call a novelty dance team a collegiate sport, and neither does the university, though she insists it is) she should understand how much it sucks to have the rest of your college athletic career die before your eyes.

When I told her about Travis Diener, she laughed. I would have given anything to smack her.

I think if I weren't so close to the end of the year, I'd ask to move out of this room.

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