God is pissed about something, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was one of my daily sacrileges. He's smiting this campus like a sonofabitch, what with the rain and the cold and the wind and such. We've got flood-like conditions here that are starting to go from "gee, this is pretty wet" to "Venice." On the plus side, I can probably take my girlfriend on a romantic gondola ride to the dining hall.

While I'm frantically searching for my swim trunks, I noticed something; it seems that all of my clothes have stains of some sort on them. Which is a very important fact, because it means that I obviously still haven't gotten the hang of the whole "doing laundry" thing. I thought I had it down pretty good: Step 1) Insert Smelly Shit into Machine 1, Step 2) Remove Wet Crap from Machine 1, Step 3) Insert Wet Crap into Machine 2, Step 4) Remove Dry Clothes from Machine 2 and call girlfriend to barter for folding service. Pretty easy right? Well apparently, according to various female and metrosexual sources, I managed to miss a few steps. Four steps is already too much though, so I think I'll just stick to what I've got going. I mean, stains just add character and "panache," right?

Well, even if you don't believe me, I sure as hell am lazy enough to go through with this plan. That is, unless I can persuade someone to wade through the toxic waste pile that is my laundry for me.

---
Alright kids, I've got a special request of all of my fans, and/or people who randomly come across this page. If you like what you see, PLEASE either email the Late Late Show, or write to CBS, and request that they let me, Brian, guest-host the Late Late Show. It would be pretty sweet.

#|