Woohoo.

Wonga invited me to join UCLA's traditional Undie Run on midnight of Wednesday. I brought up the fact that I have a rather unattractive , flabby, pasty-white body (really, if you've seen my farmer's tan before, you know what I'm talking about).


Baby, I worked hard for this. Now I don't even have to wear a shirt and people won't care.

His reply of "dude, Undie Run doesn't discriminate" was met with my sincere belief of "but LA does." Hopefully that convinced him; plus, I'm more convinced that Berkeley's brand of finals naked celebrations is superior in that 1) the people are completely stark naked and 2) we actually go into the library as opposed to running TO the library and then stopping outside. What the hell is that point of that? Be proud to flaunt your naked, made-in-the-image-of-God, pasty, Berkeleyan, needs-more-sunlight body. After all, most of the people around you won't be much better looking anyways.
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I just experienced my first primal scream. Right at the stroke of midnight (about 2 minutes ago), many of the students on my street opened their windows and screamed in symbolic catharsis of the "pent-up anger and stress" due to finals week.

It also just happened that I turned 21 right at that moment. Hooray?