Dear Jerkface: You Have The Face Of A Jerk.

The above is like going to university. It was not even a good idea at the time. Why do I go to university? I have no idea, but I am going to destroy it very, very soon.
Today I called said university to book some concert tickets. I had not known that I needed to buy said tickets until today, so I called and left a polite, music student, message on the answering machine saying so, and even though the reservation line is now closed, please could I reserve a ticket?
Soon after, I received a phone call.
Evil Sea Beast 3000: "Is this Anna*?"
Anna: "Yes."
Evil Sea Beast 3000: *in bitter tones* "I am so very surprised that you hadn't heard about the concert. It's been on the noticed board for weeks, and in the newsletter."
Anna: *Trying to explain*: "Well, you see, in the band I'm in we weren't actually told that we needed to attend the concert until--"
Evil Sea Beast 3000: *Giant sigh* "FINE, we'll just book you a ticket. How do you spell your last name?"
Anna: "H-Y-D-E---**"
Evil Sea Beast *huffily* "Is that an I for 'ice'?"
Anna: "No, a Y for yell."
ESB3000: "An I....?"
Anna: "No, a Y."
ESB3000: "Right. Fine. You must pick up your tickets in the specified time or they will be given to someone else. Goodbye."
Anna: "Good-- *phone hangs up*"

I hate people. So in my sleep deprived, uni-stressed state, I had a little sook to myself. I have found two ways to combat this stressed, weepy state:
1. As above, imagining said Evil Sea Beast 3000 (or ESB3000) as a robotic sea beast death machine who I will destroy with my iron fist of justice and sarcasm.
2. I am working at my receptionist job tonight. This is no fun, but it does mean that there is a giant bowl of chocolates precariously balanced on the desk I sit at. I WILL EAT EVERY SINGLE ONE. And the sea beast will get none. Also, a reliable source tells me the Sea Beast has Sea Beast Cooties. Hey, I'm only sharing the facts guys.

Anyway. Also, I drove my "significant other" to uni today. This was fine, except LATROBE IS A LABYRINTH OF DEATH. And when I say "LABYRINTH OF DEATH" I mean that it is a labyrinth devoid of David Bowie, which is the ONLY KIND of labyrinth I am interested in.
So I drove in to the car park, (and prior to this driving a few kilometres the wrong way down Plenty Road (Have you ever been on Plenty road? It is similar to the Labyrinth of Death, except it is less like a labyrinth, more like a road, and more seriously fucking confusing)) and dropped off "Significant Other (TM)" and then decided I was going to drive back out and get on to Plenty Road again. But Latrobe was all: "HAHAHA I HAVE YOU IN MY CLUTCHES THERE IS NO ESCAPE FROM MY CARPARK OF ETERNAL DOOM. YOU CANNOT MAKE A RIGHT HAND TURN ANYWHERE TO GET BACK TO WHERE YOU WERE, MORTAL!!!" So I was all: "Motherfucker". Anyway. In the end I got myself lost in the badarse backstreets of Bundoora (I am so good at alliteration), and then had to drive several kilometres back again in order to find my way home.
Conclusion: Latrobe has less seabeasts than my university, but is also significantly devoid of A) David Bowie B) right hand turns and C) Any logic at all.
Also joining my patented List of Things I Hate list super list list, is the new Kinder Surprise advertisement on TV. Have you seen said ad? If you have, you must understand exactly why it so infuriates me. The premise of the ad is this:
1. Father leaves work early.
2. Father arrives at French primary school (I assume he actually lives in France too, unless he has super powers and can fly as fast as Superman, or whichever superhero flies fast, but I don't think he does because he looks like a loser and not even vaguely like a super fast superhero).
3. Father humourously holds up newspaper over his face, on which the word "Surprise!" is printed, to hide from son who is exiting said primary school.
4. Son is mildly confused, until he notices the strategically placed "Surprise!" and his father appears (humourously) from behind the newspaper.
5. Child shrieks "Papa!" and looks gleeful.
6. Father gives son Kinder Surprise chocolate, which apparently contains that "great milky chocolate taste".
7. Father and son are a Happy Family (TM).

And okay. So most of this is bearable, until you hear the jingle, which is to the degree of:
"To make a great surprise,
You take a day with no surprise,
You become the surprise.
And now the surprise of the day.
Something, something surprise surprise
Great Kinder surprise
Surprise surprise
Surprise.
SURPRISE surprise surprise
Surprise."

I NO LONGER HAVE ANY CONCEPTION OF WHAT THAT WORD MEANS.
The worst part is, Kinder Surprise is exceptionally delicious. Now I cannot eat one without wanting to stab a pencil through my temple.
This is unfortunate.

Anyway. So the moral of this blog is:
I don't like you.
You don't like me.
That is all








(also, I heard from a reliable source that you have sea beast cooties.)

All the best,
Anna.

* Name has been strategically changed to protect identity.
* Last name has been strategically changed for the same reason. Also because I think it ups my street cred.
Yo dawg. I could bust a cap in yo' ass any day.