And so, I have a place to live next year, staying here in Woodward with Zach (God help me), except next year we’ve got Southern exposure and a better view. Zach vows to turn the room into a “bastion of manliness.” I am only slightly perturbed by this.

In other news, I should not be allowed to make impulse purchases. While I was buying laundry detergent at Walgreen’s, I also wound up purchasing a rather potent water gun, which calls itself a “power blaster.” It works quite well, although I don’t even know if we’ll have a second round of Assassins for me to use it, but if we do, it will be rechristened “Big Genghis.”

So, Scavhunt begins in approximately 24 hours. I am preparing to build crazy shit, do crazy shit, delegate crazy shit to crazy people, and not sleep for nearly 96 hours straight – And of course, trying not to do anything hideously stupid while hideously sleep-deprived (including, but certainly not limited to, placing my hand in the path of an electric drill).

Hopefully, no one will be killed.

And… damn, it’s been a while, so I’ve got an impressive pile of happenings. So on Saturday, we had the President Randel Open (a fancing tournament). This time, I didn’t come in last, although I still have yet to beat any male epeeists. Megan vows to kick my ass in retribution.

Then there was fencing team dinner, followed by poker hijinx back here with Amanda, Rob, and Chris, as well as a certain Mr. Smirnoff. All three of them had to be introduced to the glory of Futurama, which was done with all due haste. Next project: spread the gospel of Firefly, which I brought back from home today. I maintain that it is like unto Christ come to earth in episodic sci-fi form. It’s that good.

Also, Moulin Rouge is a very strange and perhaps slightly melodramatic movie, but also, well, spectacular. It has rather a lot of impact when one is in the mood for it. I watched it with Megan on Sunday. Also, I spent about half of Sunday eating two consecutive brunches, once with Megan, once with the aftereffects of a fencing meeting. And then there were bylaws. I’m going to need a new entry to describe what the bylaws were for, so…

Something happened Friday… ah yes. I saw Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy downtown on a house trip. I fully recommend it; it’s a pretty good adaptation, not nearly as funny as the books, but with an excellent song and dance number featuring dolphins. Casting had its flaws, but Alan Rickman makes a magnificent Marvin (the Paranoid Android). “I’d like you all to know I’m feeling very depressed.” Also, if you have the misfortune of not having read the original books, you should do so, because they are works of transcendent genius.

And then I went home Monday, returning today with Firefly, sleeping bags, a tent, pants, and an electric drill (see foreshadowing above). Guess which two items above are meant for the house camping trip.

And just when I thought things couldn’t make any less sense… well, no actually, it still doesn’t all particularly make sense, but I feel better about it. Ah well. As Karl Marx once said, “Synthesis is a bitch.” His exact words...