I have a confession:
My life is a cleverly orchestrated ruse. In reality I am the true prince of Bel Air and maintain all the wealth that position implies.
Sorry, I'm tired as I have gotten up in the 7's of the a.m.'s for 2 days straight now. It hurts my brain. And the multiple caffeinated beverages I snort hurt it even more. My class is lovely, but I cannot divulge too much for fear they will read this blog and discover how much I like bullshittery and drunkkissery and tomfoolery and shittalkering. Plus, I would be afraid they would get too attached to my Bel Air lifestyle and latch on like some undergrad barnacle babies. Undergrad Barnacle Babies! Are you listening J.K. Rowling? Can you smell the new direction? It's fun and it's fishy!
Um. Also, I moved in with Risa, which is lovely but she has a smelly cat. And it's not endearing in the same way that the Phoebe song is.
I made my class read an article about Frida! Ha! Frida is psycho like fer realz.
*AT LEAST 80% OF THIS BLOG ENTRY WAS DIRECTLY TRANSCRIBED FROM AN EPISODE OF " THE FRESH PRINCE OF BEL AIR"