The non-conformist, sarcastic, smart-ass, tool loving stoner

This is some brutal fuckin shit. 13 days of finding out how many grams of chicken there are in every Moxies resturaunt in western canada. Then you take that number, divide it by the number of Chicken tandori ricebowls there are to find out how many ounces each one contains. But, before we get to learn about the menu, we have our "uniform check" which consists of all of us lining up like cattle, then being individually "checked" or "strictly and mercilessly torn apart" by the poorly dressed, messy haired, extra-ordinarily ordinary looking, bitchy coach woman.

I don't handle this well (no matter how good I look), as they try to get me to do things like "lose the faux-hawk", and "youre lip ring might not fit into the regulations for facial piercings", and always the "did you shave today?"...Though, at every possible chance, they are telling us how much they "still want us to keep our individuality and be ourselves", to which I snicker and the response is "Just, the best possible version of yourselves".

WHAT?! Hail Hitler. There's a small group of us, I call us "the smart ones". That's all I really wanted to say. There's a very small group of people there that actually have a head on their shoulders. Sad to say. But, at the same time happy, as it is infinitly times better than being the only non-conformist, sarcastic, smart-ass, tool loving stoner in the group....And that's a pretty narrow category.

I can't sleep