“And if we’re lucky, not a one of us will be killed…”
I’m not explaining why that was my away message earlier this week, but there was alcohol involved. And it was delicious.

Anyway, I’m done! Woot! Never again will I take two writing classes in the same quarter. Actually, if they don’t fix the registration system, never again will I take classes…

However, My faith in my ability to totally slack through a calculus class and get an A has been restored. Hopefully that will balance out all the other classes I slacked through. Also, due to a very sketchy system of grade reporting, my calculus grade was reported to me as “Baron Reynaldo: A”, which almost totally makes up for the teacher being a rather disorganized grad student.

And I lied: I’m not completely done yet. There are still a few things that need attending to, like packing and cleaning. Most importantly, I am presently holding hostage a fork. The fork, if it must be described, would best be summarized as “cheese-encrusted.” If one were of the character to make terrible puns (and I am, so very much), one might describe it as “pretty forking cheese-encrusted.” Of course, now that I’ve said that, there is a distinct possibility that I will be killed with said fork. That in itself would, of course, be pretty forking incredible… Oh, she’s definitely going to kill me now. Hee! But the point is, she’ll need the fork to do so.

On the one hand, it's been an unrelentingly stupid year on my part. Still, it's been amazingly awesome. As a final point, I moved a whole ten miles south to go to school and wound up getting all sorts of Southernisms mixed into my speech. It makes as much sense as anything else, I suppose. I blame Firefly, maybe. But then, I haven't included any Chinese profanity in my speech patterns yet. You [frog-humping son of a bitch].

Ah, heck. Song for a moment: Bob Dylan - "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go"