I'm procrastinating.

There. I said it. I'm almost done with the rough draft of this paper I'm doing--on being a woman in modern hinduism...mostly because that's ALL I've ever done in that freaking class. I'm basically taking snippets of my past papers and am synthesizing them to make an über paper. I'm probably not going to finish it today. OR AM I?

There is nothing like walking around all day in booty shorts, and not realizing it until three hours later when you catch your reflection in the CP&R window.

The end of the year is quickly approaching. That means that Chowder--our glorious leader of the 9th Street Hooligans--will be graduating, and working for Google. That's right. Google. Lucky bastard. Perfect Pitch said that the group was him and Chowder's baby, that they're watching it grow up, and it's growing up well. Dakota said that we BROUGHT IT. That a cappella on these campuses was becoming stagnant, and we revitalized it. That's motivation to become the best group on campus. The Shades got invited to send in a video to the Sing-Off--or the program that actually proves a cappella exists, and isn't this alien being. They were invited because they're the most established, have several albums, have toured, etc. Personally (this isn't coming from any kind of bias)...I think we could kick their asses.

Perfect Pitch and Chowder really are the mom and dad of this group. And as Perfect Pitch says, "Mommy's going to be upset that Daddy's gone."

I'm going to be upset too. I'm going to miss Chowder, as big an asshole as he was. He was a lovable asshole, though.

SHAKTIIII.