October 1, 2001

My stupid beefcake of a roommate likes to drink. A lot. He tells people he voted for Busch in the last election, that's how far his alcoholism has taken him from reality. Last Saturday night, as I was in the midst of a most peaceful slumber at 415 Woodside, he stumbles in with eyes a-blazin', looking for his roommate to torture. Unfortunately, I fit the bill perfectly for his perverse schemes. He sat on me until I woke up - at first I pretended I was still asleep but the noxious power of his ass forced me to bestir myself and acknowledge His Drunkenness. He then proceeded to poke at my belly, all the while shouting "Soda Gut! Soda Gut!" (apparently in reference to my non-beer-gut, which pales in comparison to his monstrous 42" waistline). I think he thought he was tickling me, but his fingers are pointy and long and soon I was in tears. I hate college.