Of Soup and Sniffers

Today I felt like I was drowining in a river of soup. I say soup because it seems to me that it should be extremly difficult to swim in soup, and you keep getting hit with chunks of things. Like meat. And corn. Sometimes carrots....
Just imagine that I, a pitiful, old hobo, am drowning in a river of homework, and it keeps sweeping over my head and I can't keep up. And then--BAM!! A test, a hard essay, and group project hits me like a chunk of salmon, and now, i'm not just drowning on the soup, i am suffering a consussion from the chunk. PLUS I am having issues with my beard. It keeps molting. Yes, like a chicken. Or the exoskeleton of a spider (thank you very much bio 160). So, don't tell Joe or Hugo, but i have been wearing beard extensions to keep up my five star image. Just imagine what it could do to my reputation if anyone found out that I, a prominant figure in the Hobo Community of Cardboard Boxes, have a patchy beard? It just wouldn't do.....
Today, I sat next to a sniffer. You know the kind. He just sorta sits there and then:
Sniff.
 Ignore it Bebo, just ignore it.
Sniff.
Roll of the eyes, grits teeth.
Sniff, sniff.
Fist clenches. Hobo ninja mode comes into effect and I am ready to slay the sniffer with one slice of my pudgy hobo hand.
Silence.
There. See, he is quiet now. You were just overreacting. You do that sometimes.
Sniff, sniff. Wipe.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

See? isn't that horrible? PLUS I was in the middle of a mid-midterm test and He sat RIGHT next to me! I could have puked. Or hurt him. Or given him ten bucks to flee to mexico and never come back. Wait. 20 bucks. He probably needs a passport.....