Thank You, Andrew

Andrew has delightfully reminded me that I haven't posted in something like five days and if I don't start writing soon he may actually have to do work while he's sitting at his MIT desk. I think he's mostly upset that I haven't yet begun to describe the ecstasy of sleeping on his parents' living room floor on Sunday night. It was mentioned that Anthony and I should NOT "mess around" on our little foam pallets, but, Josh, I must tell you - it was HEAVEN.

Since my mother informs me that dinner is now ready, I must give you the short-form version: we came, we saw, we conquered Harvard Square and the little bratty high school students who complained about Josh's cigar. Note to youngsters: If you so much as look at Josh again, Anthony will come to your homes personally and rip out your testicles. Females will have me to contend with.

We ate about 10 lbs. of meat at RedBones on Saturday, and I was declared a non-team player because I wouldn't eat the last scrap of brisket. Doug, our waiter, even pointed out this terrible sin and I just wallowed in my shame for the rest of the weekend.

Mel actually allowed me to meet her best friend, the world-renowned Beth, and all was good.

Now I must eat...