I can count to blue jersey

Last night I was doing this math in my head. I've worked at the grill for a year and a half. I'm used as a cautionary tale among my coworkers because I infamously quit and then asked for my job back a few days later. It seems like just yesterday but I counted and it's been NINE months. NINE months since I quit. NINE. So this cemented my decision to ask for a raise. I have always been a bit confused by money and wages....anyway the discussion with my boss turned into a poker game, and even though I've got a bigger raise than I expected.....and a promotion....but you see, promotions really just equal doom.
Say hello to Student Manager Bjork.

The other day I was walking past the dorms I inhabited freshman year. Not that the new urban decay theme was surprising for me, we knew as we lived as the tenement kids that they were going to start tearing that set of dorms down the next year. I also watched a mini-doc someone in my class had made showing the wrecking ball wrecking the tower where I spent a few Wednesdays and Sundays with chumps I used to get about with.
Although I generally am a sentimental person, I wasn't upset to see all of the windows broken out of the place and the broken pile of dressers and desks that I sat at mouldering in the slushy snow. I found it kind of amusing to see the stack of cheep mattresses outside.
It would have been so much better if we were in the kind of place that got graffiti-ed.