I don't even know, guys.

I was avoiding working on my final American Lit paper when I found a story I started to write last year, ripped off of based on a popular children's book.

( I call it 'The Extremely Voracious College Student.' )

Also, found in a file called "youwinuniverse":

Every now and again I sigh wistfully to myself and think of how nice it would be to take some time- a week, a month, ten years, no biggie- to just sit down and write something I could really be proud of. No excuses, no interruptions, no problem.

Then I realize that in the middle of just thinking that, I took a twenty-minute break to play Solitaire.

Not that this is indicative of the progress I'm making on this essay. Or anything. Besides, I'm playing Minesweeper.

ETA: Overheard in the living room a few minutes ago.

"I saw him today, and all I could think about was his sperm."

... UM.