Why my life sucks

I'll tell you a story. This actually happened last week, but it's taken me a while to get over my initial infuriation over the matter.

So I'm walking home between classes and about to open the front door that leads to the long courtyard in my building. The little convenience store directly next door is experiencing some turbulence, my curiosity is caught, and I pause to glance over. Wrong move. I never found out exactly what was going on, but I suspect a robbery because the shop owner was being restrained by two other men while furiously spraying something white at a man who took off running down the street. Now, me being but several feet away and downwind from all this, it became apparent that the white gas was pepper spray. I think it was the incapacitating burning in my eyes and throat that tipped me off. I stabbed the door button and attempted to force the automatic door to open faster before bolting inside, making quite the scene as a I stumbled through the unusually crowded courtyard. My cheeks were black with running makeup and I was hyperventilating conspicuously. After a lot of guesswork, I hit the correct button in the elevator, managed to unlock my door blindly, and doused myself in milk. I went to my next class with utterly bloodshot eyes, sans makeup.

See? This is just stupid. I'm pretty sure I got a bigger blast of mace in the face than the guy who caused all the trouble to begin with. Let's take a look at my artistic flower arranging to lighten the mood.

A roommate found several bouquets of tulips being thrown out, salvaged them, and I arranged them in other people's liquor bottles and-- my personal favorite-- accumulated Nutella jars. It's an excellent demonstration of how ghetto my life is now. We don't buy flowers; we have them fished out of the trash. We don't own a vase; we use our ever-growing stash of Nutella jars (among other things).

I say all this, but aside from the afore-mentioned disaster, I can't complain.