corn speaks to its splintered legions

im on an uber Tragically Hip venture lately.

one of my roommates says that when i cook rice it smells like tacos or something. or corn chips. i think it smells like rice cooker.

i can tell how far along in the semester it is by the amount of mess in my room.
at some point i pretty much just get home and dump shit where ever theres free space.

and then sometimes there isnt any, so i put it on the bed.

but then,

at night i just dump it on the floor and try not to step on it in the morning.


i also had a black cherry vanilla coke, but i drank it so now i put water in it.

but really, black cherry and vanilla? is that like some weird product placement for equality?

kevin and his roommate and i were playing halo and i was playing someone else’s guy and my guys name was kennyg woo, and then we determined that tiger woods is a jiggawoo. i cant really remember the inbetween part that lead up to that. but yeah. i dunno. somehow i doubt that’ll really catch on.

no one in my class today cried foul that my presentation was about the inefficacies of the Firearms Act. i was a bit surprised when over half the class put their hand up when i asked who had fired a gun before. there went my “you all have very little idea of what im talking about so listen up” ness.

i was emphatic about my being more socialist and still not liking the registry. i was emphatic that flannel and a mullet are not fashion mainstays for me. my prof enjoyed that.

i am being emphatic that my dinner is fucking tasty as fuck.

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