The details of my life are quite inconsequential… very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet.
I’m trying really hard to keep the faith in my fellow Americans. This really makes it hard. 😩
Then don’t give them your money or time and transfer to another school?
This plan is going down for sure.