born slippy

liz is in our room when i get back, talking to kate. when she goes to leave, after watching me inhale some macaroni and cheese made in the coffee maker, there's another knock on the door. it's pete.

"umm..hello. i was umm..wondering if i could..." a pause. "if i could borrow some books."

pete and i are doing topics that overlap for our massive anthropology piece of crap..um, i mean paper. he;s looking at norse mythology, and i'm looking at tolkien's incorporation of classical fictional elements and how his reinterpretation of them influenced modern fantasy literature.

i hand him over what i consider to be my bible at this point in time, assuring him that i don't need them tonight, but that tomorrow around noon, it's imperative that i have them back.

"sure umm, no problem. just come by my room and i will uhh...have them, the books, for you."

"and...what's your room number? i don't think i've ever been there."

"oh, it's four seven seven. just look for the phallus chicken and the welcome from dionysus."

have i mentioned before how much i love university?