Death in a handbasket

Obviously, today was not my day... 

obviously, this week has not been my week...

 and obviously, this has not been my month. 

                       I firmly believe that it is all due Spanish. Yes, I said it; my car breaking down, my awful bruise, my Dora mix up, my phone turning off, all the usual awkward moments of my life, and everything that I can't remember right now can all be contributed to: Spanish. I mean lets go ahead and blame anything bad that has ever happened in my life. All 37 of my dogs getting eaten by alligators, All the animals that have casually committed suicide against my car, every time I was late to class, every time I fell asleep in class, every time the cows got out at 5 in the morning and my dad came and woke me up and I had to round them up before class while  showing up in sweatpants and mud in my hair. and you know what, lets go ahead and blame everything bad in the world on this one class: Spanish. oh you know, the starving children in Africa, the awful hipsters who don't wear deodorant, and the worst toddlers and tiaras. yeas toddlers and tiaras is defintely Spanish's fault.
                  So why today, rather than Tuesday you ask??? why do I simply hate Spanish and all that it entales? is it because the fact that my professor hates me?? no, I am absolutely certain he isn't the only professor. is it because I have no idea what we are talking bout? no,  because when do I ever??? Is it because of the fact that its almost 2 hours long every Tuesday and Thursday?? MAYBE... but honestly it is what happened today that really made me realize that I hate it and hate it with a fiery passion in my soul.
Professor: blah blah blah blah blah (in spanish)
Sam: *dozing off*
Professor Old: Sam what did I just say?
Sam: ummm.... 
oh it gets worse
Professor: blah blah blah blah (in spanish)
Sam: *looking out the window* 
Professor: Sam when is it okay to say Que and Qual?
Sam:* looks around the room to make sure its me hes talking to.*
Sam: ummm....
Sam: *looks through the book frantically.*
Sam: *hastily looks around the room for support.*
Classroom: *makes eye contact with Sam, trying to give her the right answer through psychic powers*
Sam:*does not have psychic powers, if she did she would not be put in this position for the 100th time*
Classroom: *pen drops*
Sam: well, one sounds like a quail??? one is a bird???
          Once again, this was not the right answer. Did this give him any hint to not call on me? After maybe the 7th time that this happened, did he maybe get the hint that I wasn't the one to call on this week? Maybe that I didn't have it this week?
Professor: Sam, being an english major and all...noun or verb...
Sam: *Now counting how much money i have in my bank account*
so here I have a 50/50 shot at atleast knowing something...
Sam: *confidently* Verb
Professor: um...
Sam: noun?
Professor: adjective
......
this is my life... all the time in there... believe me...
It does not help that our class has dwindled to about 11 people from its 30 last semester... meaning I am his favorite to embarrass and call on all the time. Normally that is okay with me... but in this class I would totally love to lay low and never be picked on ever. ever. ever. ever.
 it's a hard knock life...
good news
CIVIL WARS CONCERT TOMORROW AND SUPERBOWL PARTY SUNDAY
fun blogs this weekend!!!