Ritter Sport!

I do nothing but look at hockey stats that I don't understand. I reenact scenes from the games; reactions, cheers, goals. I consider buying a jersey several times a day. When I go to FitRec I can't look at Agganis Arena out of fear that I will black out and find myself in an abandoned warehouse hours later. I kind of know a few of the players names (Yip sounds like a dog, Curry is a food). My heart aches when I realize that there is only one more home game, possibly two, that I will be able to attend until second semester hits, and when second semester hits, I don't plan on leaving my bunker that I'm currently digging. Let it be known, if they try to pull me out for graduation, I will take them with me and I'm not talking red carpet and stage.

Alright, we've still got a month left in the semester, right, guy? Huh? Okay, that's better, no more tears, huh? After all, you did just broker what I'm pretty sure is a historic deal wherein you obtained the exclusive rights to the Gaza Strip (Gazaa? Striip? Wild Mid-East spellings) in return for a flotilla market warship. Not Mexican food. A warship.

I worked out tonight and then DOWNED a shake with over 60 grams of protein! I had one pound of filet mignon for dinner!

Oh god, if these scripts don't get me a job writing for a TV show, guess who's jumping? Jeff.

Beyond this, there is simply too much goodness to get into right now. Endless potential this year.

It is enough/to make the heart/swell.