As some of you will know I entered university this year and I took an academic communications course last semester. My exam went about as successful as my vaccination, but I still passed with a C+. This semester I am taking math, which is hard but vital to my plot to take over the world by harnessing the power of computers. Despite the fact I have a good mind for computers and technology in general, such prowess can not be afforded to my skill with numbers.
Watching me work with numbers is like watching a gymnast flip and twirl through a field of landmines with ravenous dogs at either end, except that I am a fat girl in a creme leotard with self-esteem issues and absolutely no gymnastic training to speak of. Put more concisely, I am the dogs dinner.
Some of you might be beginning to think that my fat alter-ego has few prospects save as a chew toy for the aforementioned beasts. You are all entitled to hold whatever opinion makes you sleep at night, but this is my blog so I am free to tell you that you are in fact wrong, and a moron. My fat friend and I intend to conquer this minefield by advancing to the rear and returning as a sculpted, well trained aerodynamic machine for which landmines and mutts present no boundary.
I am not yet sure of where a rear advancement may be made, but I intend to go somewhere and fill the gaps in my math knowledge which prevent me doing numerical back-flips but I shall return, when I can successfully back-flip and all those who doubt or oppose me shall rue that day, some of them are even ruing it now as a preemptive measure.