Ha. There’s a sign over a urinal in Humanities, er… over a urinal in a bathroom in Humanities. A urinal in Humanities would be funny. Would they put it in the hallway or a classroom? Who would be gutsy enough to use it? Anyway, the sign says Gentlemen, Please remember to flush! While this is funny simply because there are no gentleman in the basement of Humanities (only hordes of music majors with chips on their collective shoulders), someone has amended the sign and added to the hilarity. Scrawled in pen, it states Don’t flush, Save water! In light of our recent conflicts with precipitation, another person has added We don’t need more water. Still another fellow reliever, writing utensil in hand, has underlined flush and written Help the flood.

As I look back, this entry is poorly written and not funny. I’m gonna post it anyway. Why, soon I will even post a nauseatingly detailed account of last weekend’s weather. Think you’re bored now? This one will make you cry.

Aha. No snow today; instead we got an inch of rain and hail slush nonsense. The outdoors are currently cold and miserable. Moving percussion equipment after our concert was particularly exciting. Tree branches are coated in ice and make creepy creaking noises in the wind.

Rename Humor ‘Unhumor’ and Crime Beat ‘Hackneyed Rubbish’. Change column titles to ‘Dry Rants’ and Daily Blither to ‘Listen to Dane Complain Endlessly about Duluth Weather in an Uninspired Manner’ to better reflect such content.

I am my harshest critic, and my harshest critic is really frustrated with and critical of himself right now.

Snow. More god forsaken snow. I wish winter would just give up.

Wow, what an absolutely gorgeous day. I had almost forgotten what the sun looked like… I saw my shadow for the first time in a week and was frightened. A little bit of FFIX over breakfast and then took a quick dash to class. Like the genius I am I forgot my Vierne book for Theory, but Rubin was absolutely on [emphasis added] today and we never got to the analysis. Go see the resulting banter in Rubin Sez! Next came philosophy where only half the class bothered showing up. Our diminished group had some beautiful discussions about Karl Marx, where we all unanimously agreed with his thoughts of worker exploitation and alienation. Ha. Alien Nation. Remember that show? It was on Fox and really sucked. One could easily distinguish between the humans and aliens because the aliens had bald heads covered in purple blemishes. Their skin charred when it came into contact with saltwater, so it was kind of silly of them to take up residence in costal California. It pains me to say, but they’d been better off in Nebraska.

Stupid stupid internet, keeping me up late…

Batten down the hatches and man the lifeboats cuz UMD is sinkin’ and I don’t mean metaphorically. The soggy transitional season of wring is well upon us, and as a result the old vessel is taking on water at every possible corner. All available wastebaskets, mop buckets and bed pans are currently employed, making feeble attempts at bailing out the school. Slippery floor signs have been posted at the most troublesome sites, but the illiterate waters do not seem to be cooperating. Rats and freshmen are scampering to the upper decks with the hope of escaping a watery grave.

Ga. I’m plum dizzy with things to do. Today I mapped out my calendar for the rest of the year and April is already over in my mind. I’m frantically trying to get things done before the unholy finals bell chimes its grim tune. I really wish I could hire a monkey to run around and do things that aren’t important yet strangely necessary… train it to buy reeds, write emails, wash dishes, find a summer job, write compositions, draw t-shirt designs, transcribe solos, go to class, write nasty letters to the Statesman, bite people… Dammit, I wouldn’t even have time to train a monkey. Maybe I could buy another monkey to train the monkey. But who will train the first monkey? I’ll get Ryan to do it. Lord knows he’s got enough time on his hands, f’in’ business major and all.

Irony is wanting a trained monkey, only to discover that you yourself are the perfect trained monkey for the job.

Irony is whining about having too much to do, but wasting one’s time posting the whines on a website.

Irony is, is that it’s all in your mind.

It’s three in the morning. Go to bed, Dane.

Today is Thursday. I hate Thursdays. Why can’t today be a Wednesday, Friday? Why, I’d even take a Monday over a Thursday, hands down. Thursdays are too deceiving to be fun. One feels that the week is just a flailing-armed downhill run after Wednesday, which would be the case only if Wednesday fed directly into Friday. I come off the high from Wednesday’s half-way point, running and flailing my way towards Friday night, only to be smacked in the crown by Thursday. It’s a mocking slap across the face, with Thursday laughing in your face the entire time. She never shows respect, has no love for you… never did, never will. Her entire existence is dominated by her consuming desire to stand between you and your true love… Friday. Glorious Friday. If I could just steal one kiss with thou, if I could resteth my broken crown upon your fair bosom, the stars would surely shine brighter for all.

Oh. Thursday’s evil knows no bounds. I was forced skip breakfast to share her malignant duties with you fellow readers.

Damn you, Thursday!