Super Fast

5:19 p.m.

If I could, a moment of silence for Mr. John Ritter, whose death brings a great emptiness into my soul which I fear can never be filled again.

...

Please spread the news. Hold vigils for this fallen. And, for the love of God, do not ever refer to him as "That Three's Company Guy." I'm not afraid to use the brass knuckles. Punk.

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I ordered my Aggie Ring yesterday. The excitement is overwhelming. Just check it out - my ring is the one on the far left. The one with the Dark, antique finish. No diamond. The cost of this ring is already almost prohibitively high.

I'll be receiving it on November 6th. I'm very excited.

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Embarrassing moment - I fell asleep on one of those super comfortable chairs in the Business School library while I was trying to read, and when I woke up, I had a Supreme Boner, and there was a girl giggling real softly, but clearly directed at me. When she realized she'd been caught, she was all hiding behind her book, but the deed had been done.

I left. In shame.

Why do girls laugh at boners, anyway? I don't giggle when a girl is nipping out. I do the honorable thing and discreetly check out the protruding nipples from behind the safety of either sunglasses or whatever textbook I'm supposedly studying.

Maybe I need baggier pants. I could just buy MC Hammer parachute pants, and then I could have all the erections I want, with nobody the wiser. Fashion no-no? Yes. But it's a risk I'm willing to take.

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Last night we went to the Tap. I would share with you tales of drunken debauchery, but to be honest, it was an overall calm night. I know that I tried a Gin and Tonic for the first time, and I've put it underneath "Cosmopolitan" for "Nastiest Drinks I've Ever Had the Displeasure of Trying."

I also know that I stayed up until all hours of the night massaging Rachele, but for the life of me I can't remember the majority of whatever it was we talked about. So I suppose I was drunker than I thought. I should have saved the IM conversation. I probably said some really retarded stuff.

And by that I of course mean a series of unintelligible grunts and hand signs that can only be interpreted by those monkey scientists that try to teach apes to say "Pretty Bird" over and over again.

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Oh, man, I'm about to go hardcore on my workout program. I bought ankle/wrist weights. Those things will fuck you up. If I can get to where I'm running the same distance that I do now while wearing them, I will be the strongest man alive. Then, when I take them off, my speed will increase by like 80,000 times, just like in all the violent cartoons that you kids watch nowadays.

Seriously. I'll be racing some dude, and he'll be like, "You'll never defeat me!" And then I just smile and take off my weights, and leave him behind in a blazing FIRE TRAIL, moving so fast that human eyes can't actually follow me.

Hot damn, I'm a badass.

Listening To: Rob Zombie - Feel So Numb, Avalanches - ETOH, Grandia II (videogame) Soundtrack - A Deus [Sunking Mix]

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