Im starting to hate shamrocks.

Today is one of those days. After last night of stuffing my face with the wrong types of food (ice cream, hamburger, french fries, and York patty) that I decided that there had to be a punishment attached to such naughty behavior. As a half bulimic (meaning I binge but don't purge) it came down to one thing.

Shamrocks. Lots and lots of shamrocks.

Because its bulletin board season at Wastach Hall I have been infected with the St.Patrick's day spirit. Now for those of you who haven't had the joy of being infected with the St. Patrick's day spirit it is mainly a fasination with the color green, little irish men, and a strong desire to get drunk with cornbeef and cabbage. So for yesterday's naughtiness I am sitting here in the Lundstrum center office all alone waiting for the UPS man (who promised me he would be in between the hours of 10 to 1.) to sign for that one package I am cutting out shamrocks. Lots and lots of shamrocks. So many that it is making me hate the idea of this holiday. For one thing nobody reads my carefully crafted bulletin boards (which I spend hours working on,my fingers bleeding from paper cuts, my eyes crusty with no sleep but for the sake of the wastach hall residents I do it) so now it is 11:33 and I have six more pages of shamrocks to cut out.

How lucky can I get?