Christina Stout. I don't know who she is, where she lives, or what she does for a living, but every time her name appears in my life I want to scream. I wouldn't say that I hate her; it's unfair to hate someone you haven't even met yet. But if there's anything that really annoys me in life, it's gotta be "SPAM". I'm not talking about Spiced, Preserved, Artificial Meat; I'm talking about junk mail. I hate junk mail. No no no, I detest junk mail...I loath junk mail. Its pointlessness and utter waste confuses and infuriates me. It is unavoidable in the realm of email. Every week I receive free new vacations, am informed of fortunes I have won, and read about the latest miracle pill. Forwards are...well, don't get me started on them. Let's just say that I've seen them all and I do not think that I will be eternally cursed for not forwarding an email full of dancing babies and keyboard symbol picutres to 586 of my closest friends in 3 minutes. I also do not think that I am a horrible, back-stabing friend for not returning friendship emails. But all this is quite understandable. It is very difficult to sift through the mucky heaps of junk mail online. Regular mail is a different story altogether. Which brings me back to Christina. Christina presumably graduated from GCC last spring. She was the previous owner of my school mailbox. I am beginning to think that maybe she has some sort of psychological issues that she needs to work through. You see, for the first two weeks of every month my mailbox is flooded with mail. Normally this would be a joyous occasion. I thought that there could be nothing more depressing than an empty mailbox. Not so. Having one filled with mail that you discover is not your own is multiple times more frustrating! And it's not even regular mail! She has an obsession with catalogues! And it's not like she even gets cool ones like J. Crew or American Eagle or Gap or anything. No, I have a plethera of information (I think it's something like 15 catalogues/month) on leather briefcase sets, mallard duck stationary, and mahogany end tables to name a few. I do not know where I am going with this random, tangent-filled thought, but I will say that I am quite frustrated. I am sick of pulling catalogues from my mailbox, and I am upset because I could not use the adverb "tangential" in the last sentence to describe my ranting. My roomy has just informed me that I did not make up the word; it is an adverb to describe math vectors. Bah, I still think it is a cool word. Hmmm.....I hope this Christina girl doesn't have an obsession over buying encyclopedia sets too...!