Love-Makin, Heart-Breakin, Soul-Shakin

I feel like going to Harvard. Just for the weekend, just with fruit paunch, just for a convention or something. An IMPROV CONVENTION, that is. That's what I'm about to do. In 16 minutes.

I really should pack right now, but apparently it's snowing in Harvard, so I've decided to give up and just throw a pile of laundry into a bag two seconds before I go out the door.

I finished Middlesex. You know what's weird? Maybe weirder than hermaphrodism? Androgen Insensitivity. It's where you're XY but your body can't accept male hormones, so you end up looking like a 6' skinny supermodel with boobs and no capacity to reproduce.

My jeans smell miserable. I should wash them, but then how could I wear them for three straight days in Cambridge? I'll borrow Alison's febreeze.

I think I woke up drunk.

What's it gonna be? 'Cause I can't pretend.
Don't you wanna be more than friends?
YEP, THAT'S WHAT'S BEEN STUCK IN MY HEAD FOR A WHILE.

See you as soon as I can legitimately say "I survived Harvard mountain and all I got was this lousy diploma and syphilis"