It's nearly 3.

It's a good thing we established a strict 10:30 roommate bedtime. That's all I have to say about that.

You know you're starting the study-heavy night off right when, after ditching the library and going to the mall, you return to the library and your roommate cracks the greatest pun ever:

"Looks like someone ate lunch here. Laura, you get the crummy desk."

Laughter for nearly two solid minutes ensued. Punday Monday has ruined us forever.

This post seen on Facebook gave me a second wind. And then a third wind.

Heavy Techno. It's my new genre for late-night longevity. Homeboys Steve and Jor'n sustain me by seeking and sharing agreeable grooves.

You know that seasonal Pumpkin Smash smoothie at Jamba Juice? The one that tastes like Autumn? Roommate and I prepared the ingredients to make our own at two o'clock in the morn, but she only lasted until one. Good thing breakfast is in five hours. Brain food, friends. I'm acing tomorrow's Nutrition exam.

This place is nuts. There are people running around the courtyard and singing. It is 2:51. Ante Meridian. (AM. I want to take Latin so badly.) Did I ever tell you about the time the girl downstairs wouldn't quit with the horrible guitar playing and singing so we thrust a rotten tomato at her?

This one time six roommates and Jake sat crammed into the living room for some attempted studying. Front door ajar because we're too cheap to pay the A.C. bill, it didn't take long to tune out the two- or three-dozen laughing, flirting, water-ballon-thrusting collegiates. However, the girl who sang loudly and off-pitchly for near on an hour wasn't cutting it. Dottie casually let drop that we had a nice, soft, month-old tomato sitting in the other room. After fifteen minutes of searching and pondering, we hesitantly decided to drop that idea on the basis of being kind and stuff.

Then she hit a new note. Unacceptable. Without missing a beat, Jake stood, snatched the tomato, strolled on out to the balcony with six girls trailing unconvincingly casually behind, threw it into the courtyard, and strolled back in. Perfect aim. Hitting three feet in front of the girl, the leaking fruit slid and skidded to a stop not twelve inches from the tips of her toes. It was a beautiful moment. Mild confrontation ensued. Continued singing did not ensue.

I found this picture on my desktop. It's artwork. I painted it. Let's not worry about what it means.

Late at night I eat questionable stuff so I can stay awake and energized. Following it with a salad makes me feel better. Not giving specifics about "it" leads me to believe it is something dreadful.
It is.
Don't worry, I had carrots for breakfast and a vegetable medley for lunch. I used "light" butter and zero-calorie sweetener as I prepared dinner. Please do poke fun. This is not normal.

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