Temptations...

So what happens when I finally manage to sit down and try to salvage what can be salvaged of my preparation for my discrete mathematics exam?

A huge crate lands on my porch:



This was not to be delivered until after the fifteenth. Now how am I supposed to be able to concentrate on my math, when there is a whole case full of power tools sitting by my door?

How much more embarrassing can this act get?



Or maybe this is just exactly the image this nation is going for now. Like a frightened kid who has taken a beating from the school bully, squealing at the whole world:

Fuck you! Fuck you all!