The Zellbaca Chronicles

PHONES ARE FOR NOOBS

So, I’ve decided to make something of myself. I’ve decided I can handle two years of school that actually pertains to what I want to do. It’s not "HAY U GO TAKE SUM PHILOSOPHY COURSES N SUM ECONOMICS SO PPL CAN TELL U UR WRONG LOL". It’s more "Hey, we’re gonna learn some stupid crap that you can put to use." That’s right, I’m talking about the College of Technology. Now, I know what you’re thinking. "COMPUTERS R KEWL GOOD CHOICE." Nay. The College of Technology handles all kinds of goofy shit. Dentistry, cosmology, automobile mechanics, etc. But my preferred vocation is... the same... thing I’ve been doing since I was 16. Fuck.

But look at it this way: if I go through the culinary arts program, that will make me a fucking CHEF, bitches. Know what that means? It means I’d be over-fucking-QUALIFIED to work at Pizza Hut. Damn right. I could get a REAL job, and I’d actually be something, right? They’d even let me go live in filthy Canoodlia if that’s what I end up needing to do.

But in order to make this a Chronicle and not a lame-ass "blog" as you kids call it, I’ll share with you (read: Heather, since only she will read this) the fantastic spiraling phone fuck that has thus far progressed.

I began with trying to apply online. Sounds easy enough, right? Well, shit, it should have been. Clicking "Returning Students" in the "Apply" page took me to nothing but a .pdf to be printed and mailed in. Okay, I don’t have a printer. So, I asked Tony to do it. Instead, he offered to swing by the Admissions building and just grab one. But he didn’t. Because he’s Tony. And I hate him and he needs to go buy some fucking TOILET PAPER.

Now, just to see, I decided to click the "New Students" part of the "Apply" page. OH, THUR BE THE APPLICATION. Within it, there’s a damn checkbox to say one is reapplying. So, I go through it. Filling out the crap, trying to decide if showing up and not participating actually constitutes being IN Debate in high school, things like that. Then I get to the part about including a transcript and my test scores.

Remember, I went for a semester. So they should have those. I asked some people at work, I asked Tony, I might have asked my mom, I can’t quite remember.

Around a week later, I ponied up the $40 and submitted the damn application.

Around the beginning of November, I received in the mail a "Registration Receipt" as it says in the header, saying they’ve taken my money. Well, alright. Perusing the school website, I accessed my information and attempted to register for courses.

"ADMISSION CANCELLED BEFORE REGISTERING. SUBMIT THINE SOUL TO THE POWERS OF THE DARK LORD AND CONTACT ADMISSIONS."

[I could be playing FFXII right now, why am I writing this...]

Anyway, I called admissions. I was told to apply. Again. I told them no. I was put on hold. They told me I need to be talking to College of Technology admissions. So, they transferred me. I was told they don’t have my transcript or test scores. I told them they did. They told me they don’t. I told them Academic College has them. They checked. They told me they didn’t. They told me to call my high school and have them fax it to them. I called my high school. They told me the registrar or whoever the fuck does that isn’t there. They took a message. They told me she wouldn’t be back until tomorrow... maybe. I told them to call me back.

This, boys and girls, is why I hate the goddamn phone.

So, here I am. Just a lowly cook at a fucking Pizza Hut. Not a chef. Not a student.

But consider this: in 6 days, I shall be attending a Barenaked Ladies concert, so SUCK MY BALLS.

Er... in accordance with that, I now need to call and arrange to get my car tuned up. Goddammit. At least get my fluids changed... I’m poor! I can’t afford such commodities as a functioning automobile. But I’d really rather not have my car explode in the middle of or on the way to/from filthy Salt Lake City.

Off I am to call mechanics!

Hi, I’m back. I have one thing to say now. FUUUUCK! I’m lookin’ at $100 for labor/parts on a tune up then $100 MORE dollars on getting that fucking hood fixed. RABBLE RABBLE RABBLE!!!

I HAVE that much money, but I REALLY don’t want to spend it. My mom did give me money for my birthday and for the weightbench they STOLE before they moved, but when you’re poor, there’s no such thing as birthday/weightbench money. Money is money. Money is "Oh, good, I can EAT this month and probably pay my gas bill!" Shiiiit.... spark plugs... sure, they SAY I need them to ignite the fuel/air mixture inside the cylinder, but what the fuck do they know? And, yeah, opening the hood might be CONVENIENT for some people, but hell... not like I can store things in there, right?

Oh yeah. And I have to take it in between 9:00 and 10:00 am tomorrow. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? I can’t be waking up at all kinds of UNGODLY hours in the morning! What next?! Staying AWAKE throughout the hours of DAYLIGHT? I’m not a mail man! Or... someone who, like... gets up early for stuff... and sleeps at, um... night... whatever, shut up.