The following I wrote at 8:30 AM this morning with no caffeine and a long day ahead.  It happens.

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"I'm going to Tarantino my day.  That means we're gonna see what's happening right now, go backwards, see a scene that makes no sense and involves at least three makeshift but totally badass weapons, then fast-forward and see more now, then backstory, then segue to a totally different movie and see if anyone notices.

"I was up at 8 AM today.  Do you have any idea what campus is like at 8 AM on Saturday morning?  Nothing.  It is a lonely wasteland to rival a Vietnamese minefield.  Nobody in their right mind is awake this early.  Nobody, apparently, but a freshman whose butt belongs to the theater and has been pressganged into building the set.

"As I was getting ready this morning, someone's alarm went off and, God bless 'em, it was a bugle trill.  An actual bugle trill.  First of all, it was a cellphone alarm, and cellphone alarms were invented so as to be more soothing than morning regalia.  Second, if you want to wake up to a bugle, if you've got a kink for faux-militant procedure at 7 AM on the weekend, God forbid you pay a trumpeteer from the band to stand outside your dorm every morning and play a round.  It'll be just as loud and you'll be supporting the arts.

"The cafeteria doesn't open early on weekends so I had to resort to the convenience store which offers exactly 2 kinds of half-rotten fruit and 5 muffins.  I bought a plum and what I thought was a blueberry muffin.  It was not.  I just bit into it and damned if it isn't some inbred child of cranberries and carrots.  I don't know who contrived this crime against muffanity, but they need to be taken out behind the flour bins and shot.

"This grumpiness is spawned from a grand total of 4 hours of sleep.  I've only been awake for 45 minutes.  Someone euthanize me now."