As I began to climb the stairs in my Tower complex I got the distinct smell of burnt popcorn in the air. As I climbed further and further the smell only became stronger, like I was walking into the microwavic womb that birthed this magnificint fragrance. I love this smell, despite the horrible food that it produces. I may just feel like burning some popcorn, maybe several bowls, and placing it around my apartment like incense. God I love this beautiful smell.

I staggered in a drowzy stuper into my apartment, where the smell countinued to permeate through the air. Damnit did Rich do this? I walked in and the place has junk all over it. A pair of Family Guy stuffings of Peter and Brian on the table next to two brightly colored drinking glasses left unattened at 2am, a wet towel on the kitchenette floor persumably used to sop up some mess from the sink or dishwasher (maybe someone tried to do dishes and fucked it up and had a bubble party. I wouldn't be surprised.). There was a Mr. Coffee machine near the bathroom sink that had been already used by Rich or one of his pals after their Thursdaynight drunk around Greek Ave.

Rich just got in. I hear him fumbling his key in the door next to mine. He passes by the litter, ignoring it for tomorrow's chores. I feel as drunk as he, but my drunk is that of a tired young man who has been doin a whole lotta nothin but chillin with some pals since 4:30, when class ended. And now its 2:15 or 2:16 in the morning, and I am lost.

I've been at college for two weeks now and I have yet to get drunk-- whats with me?