Waiting for my Craft of Poetry class yesterday, I was sitting in Burke Hall, and there's all these people in the hall there who have made like these rack things out of PVC pipes, and they're spreading out animal hides or something. It might have just been brown paper.

But anyway, I'm sitting there, and then this nondescript average Southern Californian sororityish girl walks by carrying a framed painting. The painting is good sized, plus there's this elaborate gilded frame. The painting is of Ben Stiller. Like a close up portrait of fucking Ben Stiller, done in these psychadelic colours, like purple and green and shit. Why would something like that exist?

And then later Devon was saying something, and then he's like "And Nick's trying to say I'm a.." and nobody remembers what he said after that because it's Devon and no one really listens. But Adriana was sitting next to him and she's like "He's saying you're a Victorian pope?" Which is what I should have said, because that is what I'm going to call pretty much everybody from now on.