Praise Cthulhu! The school year is over. No more mindless busywork, no more mind-bogglingly absurd and menial tasks to perform for every thick-skulled neanderthal who can't find the 'any' key on their keyboard. No more grades to forge, no more tests, no more homework. But most importantly, nobody with moistened cereal for brains being able to tell me what they think I can do, be they jocks or faculty. Well, except two of them. Actually, scratch the part about busywork. If I can find a job, I can at least get paid for busywork, not to mention get out of the house and away from the parental units. Can probably "convince" Frank to give me something to do at the shop.