Well, I'm sitting here at my desk with a Santa Claus hat and a bottle of bourbon recovering from my trip to Arizona. I'm back in Eugene for a few days until I head out to Sunriver on Thursday. It was my first time in Arizona, and the first time I had ever spent Thanksgiving away from home. It was cool though, since most Thanksgiving dinners with my family are rather dysfunctional consisting of my relatives peppering racial slurs about how Mexican weddings are bad for America. By the time dessert is served, everyone usually tells me I should take it easy on the booze for the rest of the night after they catch me groping my cousin.

In the meantime, I will be taking this opportunity to vent about a certain Fromo (French-homo) roommate named Ryan James Voge.


*Misseur Voge practicing douchebaggery*

This is my third year in a row living with him and let's just say that the guy should be the professor of Proper Lysol Usage 101. The dude is a germaphobe...Plain and simple. If he catches the slightest whif of odor in the kitchen, the refrigerator door opens and every single item inside that could eventually expire one day is tossed out like the negros in New Orleans. He doesn't even check the expiration date! I have had one-week old bricks of cheese, in a freezer bag thrown away without my permission. What is he, a f-ing bloodhound? Ryan---THE ODOR YOU SMELL COMES FROM THE BEER CAN PILE, OR FROM MY ROOM WITH A SIGN THAT SAYS, "DEAD HOOKER STORAGE", SINCE I AM IN THE BUSINESS OF STORING DEAD HOOKERS!

Well, the girlfriend is back, so nothing in my room is mine anymore...It's ours....And "it" needs the computer now, so I need to go before a fight insues...