The most hellish week of this semester was supposed to begin with my studying yesterday (Sunday) night, but I decided that mindless record shelving, then biking to a house on Jamestown, then talking with boys who live there about recent ghostly/supernatural happenings in their room was easier than completing tasks looming over my head. One of the boys also farted because he forgot I was sitting there and is the type of boy who thinks it impolite to fart in a lady's presence. There has been a lot of farting this semester, I feel, so he shouldn't have fretted.

Kyle of that band Rainer Maria also hung out at the same house two nights before. He had chipped teeth and reminded my roommate of Peter Saarsgard (speeeell?). The same boy who farted and had a ghost strum a guitar in his room taught the guy how to bong a beer. The guy kept turning to me and commenting on the "collegiate plateau" we were participating in. Come to think of those plateaux, I was also a participant in a long conversation about evolutionary biology with Bob, who, even 13 beers in, is extremely articulate about the varied arguments for and against intelligent design.

(He was the only articulate one, though. All I can say is that i.d. is wack times ten. I like being romantic and thinking about origins, too, but I also like trusting nature, and dislike the notion that nature "couldn't possibly" create certain complicated structures. Fuck that notion. It CAN happen. And not just in a McWorld.)

Now I shall listen to the Coasters and await my certain death.