Fucking Toros, let up already!

Now here's a pleasant image: snot threatening to run down into your mouth at the slighest exhale, frozen eyelashes clumped together, cheeks chapped and burned, feet alternating between sweating and freezing, nose hairs irrevocably stunted from growing (maybe a good thing) and let's not even get started on the hat head phenomenon. Dear God, (or maybe more importantly at this juncture, University President), why must you send us out into the cold, cold wind? To quote Silas quoting Ted, "When you prick us, do we not bleed?". Just because we are older than those elementary-school runts does not make our skin thicker.

I think we did an excellent job on the Amusement this week. I have to give myself a pat on the back (or toot my own horn, so to speak), with the pairing of Postal Service (you know, the band) and a picture of a USPS mailbox. How tongue in cheek!

FUCKING TOROS! LET UP ALREADY.