It's Finals Week(s?)!!!!

Now that we have sufficiently familiarized our audience with our heathenistic value system, I thought it appropriate to allow a first-hand glimpse into what goes on around these parts during the most dreaded time of the year: finals or whatever.

First, some background. Stephanie, as you know due to her constant blathering, is a law student. That means she's really rich, I think. I, on the other hand, am a journalism student, which means I'm really insightful and ambitious. In short, law school is challenging, while J-school is...in existence. I don't really have finals, which makes finals week super awesome. She does, which makes finals week super lame. Unfortunately, her lameness permeates the entire apartment and its surroundings, so it pretty much sucks for everybody.

Typically, we're out of bed by 8 a.m. and ready to study. L.J. scratches himself like a lunatic pretty much the entire night, so only a modicum of actual sleep is achieved. We both are up and drinking coffee by 8, I on the computer, and Steph complaining about me being on the computer. She'll read the paper, watch the Today show, and verbally abuse me. She'll rapidly run through a list of things that I should accomplish in the day, and I'll read all the posts that have been saved but not posted on KSR (it's like looking into the future!).

L.J., by this time, is fast asleep, not to arise again until after 1 p.m.

By mid-morning, we've both eaten breakfast and Steph will be preparing for a trip to Starbucks, if for no other reason than to make herself reek like absolute hell for the rest of the day. As she leaves, she'll bark out my orders, and I'll nod affirmingly, slightly annoyed at her for treating me like a child.

The next hour and a half or so consists of me sitting on the couch, furiously rifling through my brain trying to figure out what in the hell I was supposed to do. I'll make the bed and do the dishes, just to be safe. I'll take L.J. out for his dump around noon, at which point I usually realize that I am still in my pajamas. I can't imagine my neighbors think highly of me after they see a grown man sloshing around in giant snow shoes, thin cotton pants covered in snowmen (stolen from Eddie...I hope he doesn't read this!), and a 'Kragthorpe, How's My A** Taste' t-shirt.

By the time Steph returns from Starbucks, I make sure to point out her that the bed has been made and the dishes cleaned. Unfortunately, for me, I'll have forgotten to clean the coffee filter, and a verbal beat down commences.

(Now, allow me to clarify something. I don't wish to portray Steph as some heinous witch. I'm a dolt, and the filter thing isn't a joke. I forget to clean that damn thing every day. Man, that pisses her off something awful, too.)

By lunchtime, I've accomplished none of the things I was supposed to, but gosh darn it, the bed got made! We'll usually eat together; I'll have a sandwich, chips, and 5 dozen Oreos, and she'll have a carrot and complain about how fat she's getting. It's a real confidence-boost. The remainder of the afternoon consists of L.J. biting both himself and the Christmas tree ornaments, me reading ESPN the Mag/SI/Deadspin/some book, and her studying (sometimes aloud).

Once it's dark outside (which in Bloomington is like 4:45 p.m.), we decide that L.J. probably doesn't need a walk. We'll briefly argue over what to eat for dinner, and I'll end up polishing off a Red Baron pizza, while she eats turnips. The rest of the night is spent watching TV (well, I watch ESPN on the computer while she watches house flipping shows or some educational crap) and determining whether or not we smell L.J.'s butt water.

Around 9 p.m., we'll both passively solidify our spot as the person who is not taking L.J. out in the freezing darkness. She usually wins, because I'm chivalrous.

And thus ends another day in finals week.

Finals week blows. The end.