While I should be studying for one of the ten thousand tests I have within the next three days, I find myself taking four hour naps, checking my e-mail (I don't know... DO I want to increase my penis size?), and staring at the ceiling.

This article has been recently brought to my attention. I want you to click that link and hurl yourself into a realm of entertainment never thought possible. Entertainment and, even moreso, confusion. It all comes down to the question that seems to follow Michael Jackson around wherever he goes... "What the fuck was he thinking?"

A pot of boiling water patiently awaiting to be devirginized by macaroni is calling for me downstairs. I must attend to it now.