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WRATH
Dear Registration,
Well, I see it has once more come to this. I thought we had parted, if not in peace, than in mutual non-botheration. Apparently, my optimistic naïveté has only provdided fuel for your sadistic pleasure.
You may wonder why I have the time to be writing this. Well, the answer is very simple. I NO LONGER HAVE A CLASS THIS AFTERNOON, YOU MISERABLE PIECE OF DISTENDED RECTUM. Apparently, it is not enough that gifted persons like myself must register by social class, reduced to pathetically begging professors for the leavings of seniors and juniors, wasting the gain from our hard-gotten AP credits because we have been crowded out of the upper levels. No, now you want to kick me out 200 levels because I have TOO MANY credits. Congratulations, you have found the perfect registration hell Catch-22. I can't get into other classes because I am a social sophomore, and I can't take the classes I CAN get into because I am an academic junior. It is almost poetic in its cruelty and genius in its construction.
I must admit, you caught me off guard. Not even I, used to your fickleness and malice, suspected you would initiate an attack on my schedule on the first day of classes, after the purchasing of books and the printing of schedules. It was particularly clever the way you hid this loophole from any outside knowledge, unreferenced in any course catalogue or online literature, lying in wait during registration and the first day of add/drop, waiting for when my credits for last semester would kick in, and then striking with the speed of an ill-tempered cobra the night before my lost class. I salute the skill with which you sent the email, mere minutes after my last perusal of my mailbox, so that it would go undiscovered until 12:30 AM. Your ambush was devastating and entirely effective.
I am sure you will be happy to know that I have not gotten into another class yet, and that if I do, my Wednesdays will suck as utterly as you do. However, I will continue to defy you, even though I'm sure I am fighting a losing battle. Someday I will be a senior, and I WILL get into the classes I want, dammit. By then, my influence and wiles will be as great as yours. I eagerly await the day when I triumph, but until then, I have nothing for you but scorn. There is no way for me to express the loathing and anger I feel towards you verbally, as I am sure it will cause small objects and the unwary to spontaneiously combust, but you may infer some of the depth of my wrath from here and here.
If you have taken offense at this entirely just deconstruction of your illusory honor, I am more than prepared to offer you satisfaction. Until then, you have nothing but my deepest, utmost contempt.
Disdainfully yours,
Me
Well, I see it has once more come to this. I thought we had parted, if not in peace, than in mutual non-botheration. Apparently, my optimistic naïveté has only provdided fuel for your sadistic pleasure.
You may wonder why I have the time to be writing this. Well, the answer is very simple. I NO LONGER HAVE A CLASS THIS AFTERNOON, YOU MISERABLE PIECE OF DISTENDED RECTUM. Apparently, it is not enough that gifted persons like myself must register by social class, reduced to pathetically begging professors for the leavings of seniors and juniors, wasting the gain from our hard-gotten AP credits because we have been crowded out of the upper levels. No, now you want to kick me out 200 levels because I have TOO MANY credits. Congratulations, you have found the perfect registration hell Catch-22. I can't get into other classes because I am a social sophomore, and I can't take the classes I CAN get into because I am an academic junior. It is almost poetic in its cruelty and genius in its construction.
I must admit, you caught me off guard. Not even I, used to your fickleness and malice, suspected you would initiate an attack on my schedule on the first day of classes, after the purchasing of books and the printing of schedules. It was particularly clever the way you hid this loophole from any outside knowledge, unreferenced in any course catalogue or online literature, lying in wait during registration and the first day of add/drop, waiting for when my credits for last semester would kick in, and then striking with the speed of an ill-tempered cobra the night before my lost class. I salute the skill with which you sent the email, mere minutes after my last perusal of my mailbox, so that it would go undiscovered until 12:30 AM. Your ambush was devastating and entirely effective.
I am sure you will be happy to know that I have not gotten into another class yet, and that if I do, my Wednesdays will suck as utterly as you do. However, I will continue to defy you, even though I'm sure I am fighting a losing battle. Someday I will be a senior, and I WILL get into the classes I want, dammit. By then, my influence and wiles will be as great as yours. I eagerly await the day when I triumph, but until then, I have nothing for you but scorn. There is no way for me to express the loathing and anger I feel towards you verbally, as I am sure it will cause small objects and the unwary to spontaneiously combust, but you may infer some of the depth of my wrath from here and here.
If you have taken offense at this entirely just deconstruction of your illusory honor, I am more than prepared to offer you satisfaction. Until then, you have nothing but my deepest, utmost contempt.
Disdainfully yours,
Me
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Registrars always always suck. They told Sara, when she asked them to help her register for a class she needed, "we don't do that."
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