And I Thought I Had It Bad...
Today, my friend Bower basically blew me out of the water. I suppose you could say he has been in a three-week karmic freefall. Three weeks ago, he gets hit in the middle of a one-way street by a homeless guy on a bike going the wrong way. Being a generally decent guy, Bower gets out of the car to see if the guy is injured at all or needs help. At first, all seems well for the guy. He's able to walk just fine, and starts walking away. Then, this lady pulls up, and the guy immediately falls down, and the woman starts giving Bower mean looks and chewing him out for hitting the guy. A cop shows up, and Bower relates his story, which is corroborated by the homeless guy. The cop says that Bower isn't at fault at all for this, because the guy was going the wrong way. Meanwhile, the guy starts saying his leg is all messed up. Under stern glares from the lady, Bower accepts the guy's request to be taken to the hospital, where he switches injured legs. A week later, Bower learns that the guy is now suing him for $50,000. Needless to say, that pisses him off. Bower figures he could probably fight it in court and win, but his insurance company decides to settle out of court for $800. That means it's now on his driving record, and it looks bad. At any rate, it was settled. Then last weekend, he is at a party with a bunch of his friends, two of whom were noticably sloshed. At one point, the two of them proceed to pee all over his legs. Seeing this, Bower decides that it is time to go back home and get a clean change of clothes. When he gets to his house, he discovers that a sewer line has broken under his room, and it's flooded with sewer water. Seeing this, he sleeps on the couch. By this point, it's about three in the morning. At about 6 a.m., his mom calls to tell him that she has a flat tire and that she's somewhere in downtown Spokane, but she's not really sure where. He then has to go and help her change her tire. First, though, he has to spend about four hours trying to find her. Monday rolls around, and when his alarm goes of at 8:40, he notices a giant spider next to his bed. Seeing this, he immediately smashes it and goes back to sleep for a few. When he wakes up again, he notices that the spider isn't there anymore, and there's a big itch on his shoulder that won't go away. He goes to the bathroom to check all of this out, and on his way back, notices this tiny little spider dragging the corpse of the giant spider across the floor. Not only was there a giant spider, there was also this tiny super-spider. Then he gets to class, and the first thing that is said to him when he gets in the door is, "Did you bring your stuff for your presentation?" Of course, this was all a cruel joke on the part of Logan, and when this is explained, Bower calms down a bit. And we've been having fun at his expense ever since.

Intriguing
I have recently discovered that my public speaking class is absolutely horrified whenever I open my mouth. It's as if there is something so inconceivable about me disagreeing with a few specific people that they cannot refrain from voicing their shock. My thoughts on those people (and they know who they are): Screw 'em. In the meantime, it would not hurt for them to just learn that disagreeing with others is not a sin.

Aristotle's vacation wear
This past Saturday was homecoming. My friend Logan decided to throw a toga party at his appartment, which is right across from the football field. Thus, we had a perfect view of the game. My room-mate and I decided that this would be worth attending, and so we went to a fabric store and purchased our cloth. I picked out a sort of Hawaiian surfer pattern, while Greg picked up a sort of silk international flag pattern. Logan, our ever-gracious host, had provided us with a root beer keg, and some awesome barbeque. The game was aweful, but we had a good time. Greg and I tied for best toga, for which we were awarded 10 bucks at Starbucks. Not too shabby, in my opinion.

That night was the homecoming dance. I decided to go. Boy was that a mistake. First of all, I didn't actually go with anybody. Second of all, I only knew a few people. Thus, while most people were shaking their booties with their friends, I was stuck in the middle of a large unpleasant crowd. One thing I have noticed is that it seems as though I have some sort of sign that says, contrary to my wishes, "Please, if you are a large unpleasant male, encroach upon my personal space." Seriously, no matter where I chose to plant myself, invariably some guy would come along and just start gyrating and convulsing (Whitworth for dancing) with some girl next to me. Of course, it isn't the girl who encroaches, but rather her obnoxious guy friend. Thus, I get shafted. At which point, bitterness kicked in and my Nietzschean tendencies came to the forefront. My disdain for the herd of unwashed masses became almost palpable as I stood there sneering at the crowded dance floor. I'm thinking this is the last time I go to a dance alone. It's not healthy for me.