A quick postscript to yesterday’s post, which detailed some of the more outrageous moments I experienced in college. I heard from some of my friends who have heard me retell these stories ad nauseam (which is Latin for “Shut the fuck up, already, Greg!”) They generally wanted to know why I left out my psychotic lesbian roommate who thought cigarette smoke was radioactive and could travel through walls, or why I didn’t talk about the asshole who wouldn’t stop hitting on my girlfriend, whom I later found passed out in the bushes and for whom I managed to arrange an unconscious lingerie photo-shoot, or any one of a hundred other fucked up things that happened while I was supposed to be getting an education. Continue reading