Take the number of times "Fuck" was said in Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs...

... multiply it by the number of times "shit" was said in both parts of Kill Bill, and you've got:
Hey everyone. I'm proud to share some good news! Those of you who'd been pushing for me to stay in the Boston area next year have it made! Thanks to a fabulous turn of events, I'll be failing to graduate on time, probably by one class, and life is absolutely fantastic!
It turns out that the worst possible scenario has of course, come to pass, thanks to one law-hypothesizing Murphy, who apparently *doesn't* take an extended vacation during the holidays. In this particular case, it means I didn't get an A on my final exam in 6.013, which means it doesn't rectify the two tests that I bombed earlier in the class before having a chat with the professor about equation memorization and how it sucks. Thus, the D, which, while passing, is not a prereq grade.
However, as this particular dog does not prefer to run and hide and whimper with her tail between her legs, we'll be having another celebration this upcoming January once I make my glorious return to the Cambridge area. As an additional bonus feature to the already-planned half-birthday party that my friend John and I will be throwing, there will be an additional "Well Failed, Kim!" aspect to it. Among the delicacies we will be serving will be the "Bacon-Bran-Communion Wafer Birthday Cake" (a cake whose singular goal is to contain as many offensive foods to major religious and dietary groups as possible), a culinary experiment in the field of confections that John and I would like to call "Fudgeweiser" (whereby the traditional methods of creating fudge are maintained, with the small substitution of Bud for chocolate), as well as the return of the traditional liquor-soaked "Well Failed, Kim!" cake of 6.001 yore. There may even be a possibility of the elusive "Steak-and-Bile Cake" once mentioned by Griffin, but I suspect this will take a grand deal more effort of convincing, as the harvesting of bile is something of a onerous, time-consuming task. I expect that this will be a fabulous party, and all are welcome, even those who'd choose to pass judgement on our exceptionally poor taste, as we're going to need *some* people on which to use the tar and feathers I'm going to receive as a birthday present. Come one, come all! It'll be a grand celebration. For partygoers' pleasure and entertainment, the "Peeing Boy Liquor Dispenser" (a gracious gift from my dear friends Gabe and Nomeda), will be on display and there will be a raffle at the end of the night to see who wins a quality pan of the leftover Fudgeweiser.

Further bulletins as events warrant.