Break out the lawn chairs and lemonade...

I was worried about this week. On Sunday, a certain unexpected house guest made himself at home by flooding our bathroom--twice. Once with the shower (which is admittedly finicky), and once with the toilet. He did not clean up adequately after the second flooding, leaving nasty poop water at the base of the toilet. I only knew it was nasty poop water because I found the plunger sitting next to the toilet, in the trashcan, and still dripping said nasty poop water. Somewhere between the floodings, he ate our spagetti leftovers. Then, as I watched, he (in his mind) sneakily poured himself a drink of Issac's rum and coke, put in in the fridge, and then sat down in the living room.

"Hey, uhh, Tom. How's it going?"
I want you to leave. Now. "Alright."
"Oh, cool. Uhh, hey, there's this drink in the fridge. Can I have it?"
Oh, yeah, sure, so you found that drink, and drinking it is, like, your finder's fee? Fuck you! That's not even mine, why are you asking me!? "Yeah, sure."
"Great, thanks."
I hope you choke and spill all over yourself. "Sure."

I'm usually not a pushover about this stuff, but at this point, I was so pissed that a confrontation would have ended very badly. Not to mention, the kid is oblivious to the offenses that he is committing, which always makes things just that little bit more interesting. If I wasn't able to dominate him in Smash Bros. (and if he didn't get so visibly upset when I did so), we would have come to blows.

But then he left. I came home on monday, and he was gone. He decided to stay in St. Paul for the rest of the week. YES. [Note: our other two squatters for the week are pretty awesome to have around, or at least paid for their own shit. Jamaal can sleep on the couch all summer, if he likes. He's cleaned our kitchen three nights running.]

From there, the week has proceeded to rock, hard and summer-like. Sciuto and I went for a late-night country road-trip, and when the road ended, we laid on the hood and looked at the stars. I don't think I 'm exaggerating, here, I haven't seen that many stars in years.

"Sciuto?"
"Yeah?"
"No matter how much I wish you were a girl right now, I'm glad we found this."
"I was thinking along the same lines."

Today I scanned in Zoobook photos, and let me tell you, the Class of '11 is... no more or less attractive than any other Carleton class. Take that as you will. There's a guy whose last name is Bonin. Either he's a huge Bro, or very ironically anti-Bro (at this point, it's hard to say). Also, I'm pretty sure there's a girl with the last name Beavis, which I was sure wasn't a real name until this morning. The handwriting was a little weird, so I asked my supervisor what she thought. She said she concurred. We don't know each other very well; we both tried not to laugh.

Also today, I bought a bike. It's fixed-gear (say what you will), and it's awesome. Sciuto tried it, and now he's got bike fever. The guys from across the street sold it to me. They thought someone might be looking at it, but "better you than that long-haired hippie dude." Ummm...