I’m here. I’m writing an article. Typing on my computer, pounding HoCo hangover in time with my keys. I haven’t written anything in three weeks and the moral burden of slacking off is weighing on my conscience more than my desire to stay in bed puking today. So here I am. Just a shitty person writing a shitty article for the masses. The guy beside me is breathing really loudly, he’s really killing my writing mojo.I think he might actually be dying? I am slightly concerned about his health, but not enough to stop writing this article. I will write enough words for this article if it’s the last thing I do. Homecoming was fun. Everybody liked it. I only remember, like, one person puking during the day, and that was at like, 9:30am, which is practically 3am by HoCo standards. Overall- I hope Principal Woolf can declare Saturday as a day that was a grand mediocre ok for Queen’s as a whole.
The real reason I am here writing today is free pizza and soda. As most of Queen’s knows, pizza is bae, and you don’t fuck with bae. So I’m here, writing this shitty article for some free pizza, asking myself what my life has come to. Gluten may be the enemy, but pizza is my mistress.