Estella's Revenge

So, I've established here that my uncle is a jerkoff. However, he managed to hit new levels of jerkoffedness yesterday with a fucked up e-mail the likes of which I've never seen before.

It went a little something like this:

I'm drunk. I want money. You've fucked me over royally. The world owes me everything and I shouldn't have to work for it. Send me my money.

He didn't say it exactly that way, but from reading the e-mail and my prior knowledge of his worthlessness, that's what it boiled down to. He sent this overly tacky e-mail to my mom and BLIND CARBON COPIED me. Like he seriously thought I'd feel some sympathy? Give me a fuckin' break. He can rot in the recesses of his own sloth for all I care.

In other news, we had another student/professor party last night (with alcohol). Several of the grad students and a couple of choice undergrads went for drinks at 4:30 (party started at 6:30), so we were feelin' a might toasty by the time we arrived at the party. The "party" was actually a meeting of a scholarly society of faculty and grad students that get together to talk shop (conferences, journal publication, etc.). It looks like it's going to be a beneficial experience and fun to boot. Several of us decided that we were snowed. One of the profs suggested we go grab a drink before the party, and then we all ended up being voted in as officers of the organization. Yep, we got screwed, but it's OK. I'm the webmaster.

Speaking of grad school, check out the new blog I'm particpating in:

"I'm a Grad Student? Since When?"

I'm partnering with the ever delightful Pink Kitty for this one.