I was going to attend a poetry reading with Mark tonight, but traffic and getting lost prevented us from doing so. I would have been very disappointed, because this was the first occasion that I felt justified breaking out what I refer to as my “hipster glasses,” and I was a bit excited about that.
However, I had already taken them off when we stopped at Chick-Fil-A — purely out of instinct, because usually when glasses are on my face, they’re sunglasses, which I don’t wear indoors. I was not deprived of the satisfaction of wearing them, therefore, because I had forgotten about them in the first place.
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I’ve been stocking my fridge with glass-bottled root beer recently. I always feel self-conscious about drinking it anywhere on campus besides my room, though, because there’s nothing about the bottle that obviously screams “Don’t worry, I’m just a poser!”
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I learned from Star Wars that getting burned by lava gives you the ability to deliver a line.