What's That Funky Smell? Steal my Things.

Returning to North Hall from your family, friends and comfort of your own bed is like taking a vacation to Hawaii, staying for a night, just long enough to un-pack your bags, then hopping back on the plane to return to shitsville, USA.

Except on your way home to shitsville, your plane crashes in a fiery tragedy, and you die a slow painful death in the abyss of the Pacific Ocean.

Hands down, the best part about returning to La Grande and North Hall at EOU is the mysterious stench that is now permanently lingering througout the halls.

I liken it to a dead animal, mixed with rotting cheese. It has officially overtaken all of North Hall and I am assuming by the end of the week, I will no longer have walls, as the stench will most likely descinegrate the drywall, and singe off the paint, and my eyebrows.

December 26th may very likely be the most depressing day ever.

It's the day that every person who didn't get every single thing they wanted for christmas go out to the stores, take back their shitty gifts, and exchange them for cooler things.

Because that is what Christmas is all about.

I had the terrible misfortune of shopping on the 26th of December, AKA yesterday, because I was purchasing some gifts for some friends. Belated christmas gifts, if you will.

Anyway, if I had a dollar for every spoiled little brat I saw in the store throwing a fit because they didn't have the right XBOX 360 game available, I would have multiple dollars. Because this happened multiple times.

So, I did what any good semeritan would do. I delivered forceful clothes-line's to every little punk-ass complaining about their christmas (mis)fortune.

You wanna see some holiday cheer?

Apparently, it's not socially acceptable to impose your will on small children in public forums, so the manager at EB Games was totally pissed, and told me I had to leave, or he was never accepting one of my game trade-in's again.

To this, I said "Fine, 15 bucks for the new Grand Theft Auto is a rip-off anyway."

I then proceeded to body slam him while the little punks watched, and to prove my final point, I distributed one copy of "Smackdown: WWE v.s. Raw" to all the children.

Some would call is modern day Santa, some would call it illegal. I would call it holiday cheer.

I've also decided the best way to spend your birthday is in a car, on icy roads for 7 hours.

I've also concluded that the single best part about your birthday is Facebook comments that say "Happy Birthday."

It's a great day when you can get 9, count 'em, 9 wall posts that say happy birthday. It's only 7:30 right now, so i figure I've got 4 and a half more hours to go, if i can get...say...15 wall posts by the end of my birthday, I'm thinkin' that's probaly a world record or something.

As the proverbial cherry on top of my exquisite winter break, I traveled 7 hours to get to La Grande today, and I forgot my keys. My RA had to let me in, and i can no longer lock my room, because I have no way of unlocking it. Due to my lack of keys.

So now I have a laptop, an Ipod, a digital camera, some Men's Health Magazines and a framed picture of Mark Wahlberg that can all be stolen at any given time.

So, to any readers, this is an open invitation, room 215 is having a yard sale. Except they are all my belongings, and you are NOT welcome to take them. But after saying this, technically, there is nothing I can do to stop you.

Unless on the off chance I hired a guard dog named Spot who stands 8 feet tall, breathes fire and has an incurable craving for college-student flesh.

But that'd be weird.