You broke it, you bought it, this bailout is bullsh*t!

I'm not going to start this post with a feeble "oh, I don't know the politics but I believe in the ideals". Even though it may be true.

I'm small and insignificant. To be honest, I still don't know the ramifications of a $700 billion bailout for "the fat-cats in Wall Street". I'm not even a citizen of this fine nation (not sarcasm) so I fail to see why every little headline should have anything to do with me. Except that they will, and they do. I don't know the details, I admit it. But I know a lot of people are angry. And if I had time to read into this, I'm sure I would be too.

Let's consider this for a minute:

$700 billion could buy a decent computer for everyone in the America...and then some.
It could buy everyone in the world ten years worth of "food" at 3 meals a day.
It could even buy...I don't even know how many...items from this evil cow.
And hey...it can even pay this off.

To my simplistic understanding, aforementioned fat-cats mess something up that I had completely nothing to do with and the magical government, hell-bent on making my college fees increasingly unsupported, is going to fix all of it by randomly generating a HUGE number out of nowhere just so the retards with gray hair, bluetooth headsets and starbucks cups surgically attached to their left hands can continue their very important lifestyles.

I'm aware of the importance of major businesses in my daily life. I'm aware that these major businesses going backrupt is probably not a very good thing. I'm aware that the government has a responsibility to maintain economic stability in a country. I'm also aware, however, that if you give a man a fish, he will eat for a day. If you give that man a net...or something fishing-y...he'll eat for a lifetime. Having thoroughly destroyed that proverb, my point still stands.

As a taxpayer (or at least a child of a tax payer), I deserve a say in what my money is spent on and frankly, I'd rather have 18 million of these.

RIPTA, I loathe thee!

So RIPTA, Rhode Island’s ONLY means of public transportation, screwed me over once again. Twice.

I attended the PC Democrats meeting last night (just to see what it was like) and it wasn't too bad...kinda short but Pizza was abundant. A guy had a quick talk on the importance of New Hampshire in this election. He was damn convincing about it too. I would canvas but I don't think NH undecideds would fancy getting a visit from an Asian guy, with the biggest man-crush on a certain political candidate, being wildly obvious as to who he's supporting. I think that's illegal too. Also though, and I've mentioned it before, I can't actually vote so I don't see why I have so much interest politics. I'm a sucker for revolutions I guess.

So after that I chillaxed in a friend's dorm and busted my wrist trying to play Rock Band on Easy. "So it's just like dancepad for the hands right?" I asked naively to which Patrick replied, "Yeah...something like that". Needless to say, it was nothing like that and now I think have a mild case of arthritis and the sudden need to buy an XBox 360 or PS3. Self-control, don’t fail me now.

After that, I went to my first-shift-ever at my brand-spanking new job as a computer lab monitor. I walked around, pushed in chairs, picked up paper and when I got bored I wrote an essay. If only all forms of employment was this strenuous and satisfying. Even after gratuitous chopping of vegetables, endless wrapping cycles, anal-arranging of rounded fruits, demeaning scrubbing of floors and benches and earning a hefty HALF of what I’m earning now, I have no idea why I never went back to Woolworths. Oh that’s right…because everyone that’s ever worked for Woolworth’s, as well as all of its affiliated companies ending with an “-own” prefix, is a total bitch.

So after my two hour shift, I got to my bus stop at 12:05AM to wait for the 12:15AM. Half an hour later, the bus never came and I was getting kinda sick of drunk retards spattering about disobeying pedestrian rules. I was mildly amused at the conveniently placed hotdog truck that was probably ripping off drunkards with the munchies (do drunkards get the munchies? I have no idea). Anyway, I had to call Papa Jess which heavily guilt-rid me because he looked wicked tired.

Fastforward to this morning. I woke up at 8:30AM to the sound of women and children drowning outside my window (I think) and aptly sprung out of bed as this apparently leads to a more productive day. Cereal. Shower. Metrosexual Rituals. Etc. I got to the bus stop at 8:55AM wishing a little that I owned an umbrella and/or a raincoat but not worrying too much because the bus schedule said that the bus would arrive at 9:05AM. Oh but it didn’t. And I got drenched. And I got on the bus, which was 20 minutes late, stomping and giving evil eyes to the indifferent and probably alcoholic bus driver but the MOFO don’t give a FO.

An hour of wasted aggression, awkward hellos and spilling iced-coffee on my bright shirt later, I find that I got an A+ in my Child Psych paper and suddenly it no longer mattered that I had enough water in my clothing (and probably books) to bring the entire continent of Africa out of poverty and into the mediocre, wasteful, whine-filled, unfulfilling but privileged lives we lead today.

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It’s like missing your flight to Disneyland, finding out your passport’s been stolen, being falsely arrested by airport security, being falsely abused by airport security because you have an Obama shirt on and it’s one letter away from that other guy who did nasty things, being released with a short apology by the ugly bald man with a complimentary airport donut, getting malaria from the donut, realizing you’re in the wrong airport, being hit by a moped as you exit the aiport and then bending over to find a penny. Yay! A penny!

Yep, it was something like that.