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Basketball!
Ok, so they're not doing so well as of this writing, but back near the middle of this month, our team was on fire. So when several inches of ice fell on campus the Sunday of our game versus Maryland and the athletics department decided to let as many students as showed up into the game for free since they figured very few season ticket holders would show up, I jumped at the chance.
	We got there an hour and a half early, right after they opened the doors, and were told we could sit anywhere. So we staked out some awesome seats in the second row by the half court line.
Our man, Virginia Tech Basketball Coach Seth Greenberg. He was a stone's throw away. He was so close, we could have reached out and touched him, it seemed. Like, with a stone or something.
	Since we were seated for 80 minutes before the game, we got a first hand look at the production for TV of a basketball game. That, and we got to hear these guys practice their spiel of "impromptu" scripted materials a few times before they went semi-live.
And in no way did the people whose seats we were taking show up and force us to move to row X. No, this is a different game. Yeah, that's what this is.
	Look at the primary student section. So... monochromatic.
Back in the Bathroom
It's probably better if you don't ask too many questions about this. Suffice to say, we have some cheap expo boards we were given at the beginning of the year as promotional items. We put them in our bathroom to foster communication with our suitemates. We now play games on them. Here, each person adds one word per bathroom trip, with the end goal of a coherent story. The results (below) may surprise you.
While Superman gorged on several bloated Nazis, Peter Lavigne ran a campaign to eradicate flaky bimbos. “Stop!” shouted a particularly lanky swastika-wielding Donald Trump as he loomed over the world. “I need 100,000 sheep of utter destiny in order of height,” he spat. “Bring them around to my cozy palace of extreme pants, and ensure that they are each fitted with special sheep-warming woolen swastikas. Nobody, and I mean nobody gorges on my fellow Nazis!” Henceforth, Peter shifted his campaign into the fastlane. Utilizing bimbos of relatively non-flaky composition while hailing the Donald, he smote the tallest 50,000 sheep with only 49,905 roundhouse kicks, thereby earning the admiration of the Man of Steel. Suddenly, while the Donald was mourning the sheep, Superman deftly snuck into an alcove and readied his enormous, bulging ego. “How can you expect sexy escapades when all you can do is pout,” he asked introspectively. His crushed spirits were evident in the way he gorged. “All 99 of my relatively heroic escapades ended when I danced upon Lois Lane’s femur, accidentally breaking her face. Now all I can do is repent by defeating the nefarious Donald at his own game: I’ll show him what for!” Immediately, none other than Frank Beamer appeared and set the entire Virginia Tech Defensive Line on Trump. The Donald exposed his toupee of fortitude but was suddenly defenestrated by Peter’s massive vocabulary. Peter Kauffmann, that is. [To Be Continued...]
In Other News...
Lots of stuff happened that we have no pictures for. Or, rather, for which we have no pictues. We watched all six Star Wars movies back to back to back to back to back to back. It was great. Also, we did some stuff not at Tech, but since when has this site ever cared about that kind of thing? We watched a crapload of movies and played a ton of Nintendo 64 games. We went to a surplus auction (or at least some of us did.) We had a big State of the Union party. We ate some fancy meals. There's more, but we can't remember any of it and would frankly like to go to bed.

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