Flashback to 1984: I can't go into an arcade. I can't, because the horrible whiney echoing of my name, or some bastardization thereof, is ringing out, loudly, from laserdisc game cabinets in every single arcade seemingly in America. In retrospect, it's kind of funny, but I remember doing a great deal of cringing thanks to Space Ace.
Tell me: where do you get the best fries?
I know I never remember to post a Collegiate Times Cretin. Well, here's one, because I so love the "I don't hate homosexuals, so long as they're not, you know, being sexual." argument.
Specifically planning to go to chiaroscuro_dc saturday night. Also I look cute today.