So I Figured out What to Do with My Life

No, no I haven't. I was kinda hoping that something would just come to me and I would write it. Then, of course, live my life accordingly. But, I guess that isn't gonna happen; instead I will just write another blog. And, boy, do I have a treat for you all today! No, no I don't...

All my finals are finished. And that's the end of that chapter. However (there's that intelligent-sounding conjunctive adverb again), I do still have that paper to finish. Also, I would like to start beginning every sentence with a conjunction, except "also" is an adverb. Whether grammatically appropriate. Or not. And sentence fragments. Very. Very, indeed. Indubitably, to be sure.

So, I'm pretty sure "The Beast" lives in my apartment... All you Seinfeld fans out there know what I'm talking about. Yeah, it stinks pretty good in here. Every time I open the door or walk in the kitchen, it attacks. Like a punch in the face... Also, on a related or unrelated note (make a guess), I got a new roommate to replace Zach. I just can't wait for Jacob to get outta here so I can get me another one!

When somebody has B.O., the O. usually stays with the B....

If it is in fact B.O. that I smell. I thought it was the food that somebody cooked earlier, but it won't go away, and kinda smells like a bunch of wet dogs rolled around with a bunch of other wet dogs and then came into my kitchen to hang out and pee on stuff. I am currently baking cookies to try and ward off the evil smells, but I am doubtful I can rid my apartment of this beast so easily. I have already tried Febreeze, cologne, taken out the trash, and I have had the door open for almost two hours, all with no results. I  also cannot find the source of this smell; I have taken out the trash (which didn't stink), checked the oven, the sink, the fridge, all of my cabinets, and I cannot find it. It's as if the very air has become tainted (or possessed), yet will not leave my apartment when the door is opened for two hours. If cookies can't get rid of it, I may just build a bonfire in my kitchen; a bonfire of old tires, hair, cigarettes, and diesel. Any smell would be better, and at the very least, I would understand what it is I would be smelling.

So right now anyway, the only thing I can figure out what to do with my life is to battle this demon-based smell that came out of hell. (That sounds like a totally kick-awesome title for a Dr. Seuss book, by the way. I should probably write kids books, actually; kids are stupid and could therefore relate to my literature. E.g. Poop, dirt, Wales, and Andrew's mustache.)

The cookies worked, by the way...