Graah! Just. One. More. Final. I keep telling myself it'll be over soon, even though it feels like it won't, even though my last final is on Wednesday. I can't handle this. The stress is killing me.

Last Thursday's final was by far the worst. I didn't REALLY buckle down and start studying until far too late on Wednesday night, so I pulled an all nighter.

Of course, at 6:00 am when I decided to move from an abandoned classroom to the computer lab, everything went to hell.

If you've been hanging around me lately, you'll know that I have a piece of crap laptop (a craptop, if you will). Bobby laughs at me constantly because the power chord is janky, and I have to wiggle it, tie it in knots, or drape it around my computer JUST SO in order for the battery to begin charging. When I plugged in my laptop at the computer lab, it was having issues, no matter how I wiggled the chord or draped it, and I was getting frustrated at the lack of charging.

And obviously, when I saw the smoke out of my peripheral vision, I had been up for 30 hours so I figured I was just hallucinating. At least until my friend Taylor looks over and goes, "HOLY SHIT, Maria! Your computer is smoking!"

I'm a little slow on the uptake still so instead of unplugging my computer and backing the fuck up, I sniff at the smoke (it smelt rubber-y) before turning my computer around to see where it was coming from. That's when I notice that the power port has become some sort of rocket jet-pack because flames are shooting out of it, and a good length of the power chord is engulfed in flames and sparking.

My mind finally caught up so I screamed, "JESUS!" and flung my rolly chair backwards. Taylor, like an action hero movie star, lunges for the chord and rips it out of the wall. I'm left to explain in halting language why there was screaming to the techies in the computer lab. They weren't amused, but told me bluntly, "Oh. That happens a lot." 

Did I miss the memo titled, "Oh, and besides sex causing babies, your laptop will probably explode at one point in your life." ? Because I'm pretty sure that shit should NEVER happen. Especially during finals.

So I was left with only enough power in my battery to last me an hour since my power chord was shot. I spent the rest of the day ninja-studying... I'd do as much work as I could not using the notes on my computer, then flip it open, frantically scribble down as much as I could, and slam it closed again to conserve energy. It sucked.

When I called dad to tell him about it, he cracked up for a minute and then said, "Out of all my kids, I'd want to be you the least," and "I'd rather be me than you, and I had a heart attack last year."

Thanks, Dad. 

The day got worse, because as I was up all night, I contracted a fairly nasty sore throat. After taking my final (and kicking it's ass six ways to Wednesday) I decided to go get some tea at the Espresso Royale. I downed it fairly quickly because my throat was KILLING me, and then left to go to my car, go home, and get some sleep.

Of course, in my sleep deprived state, I hadn't factored in that it was 80 degrees outside, I hadn't eaten in 12 hours or slept in 36, and I had just downed a cup of scalding hot tea in 10 minutes. My stomache began to rebel immediately.

I did that thing you do when you think you're going to throw up but you REALLY don't want to and try to talk yourself out of it. Like that ever works. "No, come on, you're fine. You don't feel sick. It's a beautiful day out! Distract yourself by looking at the birds! Aren't they pretty? Just two more blocks to your car. You'll make it. You feel great!" My stomache cannot be reasoned with.

And it decides to finally lose it right in the middle of the diag, which is one of the highest-traffic areas on campus. Especially during exams. I made it to a trash can that was off to the side before hurling, but I still caused a mortifying commotion. This girl even came up and was like, "OMGZ, R u, liek, okay? Do you want me to call 911??!" And I'm like, "NO! Do NOT call 911. Please. I'm fine. Just... *tear* don't look at me, okay?" 

I hate finals. Even though it's really my own fault and not theirs.