So yesterday was Helen's birthday, that was big. We went to Chili's -I rode in the back on the way there, and the driver chose to take the shorter, bumpier route. Mollie rode in the back after dinner, and we took the longer, smoother route back to Lawrence. Coincidence?

Probably. I was annoyed that this really crappy music was coming from the speaker next to me while I was in the back. I kept hoping that we would make it to Chili's alive simply because I refuse to die while listening to Godsmack. Ugh.

At Chili's we conversed. Besides our driver, a guy friend of Helen's, the revelers consisted of Helen, Our Bold Hero, Mollie, Ann and Dungeon Master. There was much mockery, mainly directed at Ann, and an incident in which knives were purposefully dropped on the floor. But mainly it was good fun all around. Happy Birthday Helen.

The next, equally important event of the day was the Senior Streak. Coming back from the library after studying with The Young Lover, I ran into Jonas, Andy, Jinx, The Diplomat, and Jamie. We sat and watched as naked Lawrentians, drunken members of the graduating class, paraded by. I even knew a few streakers -Al from the Waste Land poetry-reading group and Greg's Lanky Percussionist mentor/friend both marched past.

There was a unicycle.

The Senior Streak isn't just a yearly stunt by graduating seniors; it's an expression of freedom and equality. For once, the Morlocks and the Eloi were cheered together; everyone gutsy enough to bare all was praised. It was a brief moment in time where (disregarding the calculating leers of the more oppurtunistic audience members) looks no longer mattered. Because if they had, none of us would have been cheering that often.

As The Diplomat said, it's just this kind of experience that brings Lawrence students together. It was a cool experience, if not always aesthetically pleasing, and I'm glad I didn't go straight to my room. I met The D.J and Greg coming back; they enjoyed it too.

I ate lunch with the same people I was to voyeur with that night, after running into Megan on the way to Downer. That was pretty fun, even if we got heckled by the next table (Jinx) much of the time. We talked about facial hair. Good times.

Actually, I don't think anything could have spoiled that lunch, as I had just gotten back the essay (entitled "And Everything Was Lilacs") that I'd procrastinated on a week ago. As it turns out, shoddy last-minute work is enough to get me a good grade as long as my thoughts are cogent. So yesterday was a pretty good day.

As if the day couldn't get any better: Ann Coulter has done it again with one of her trademark illogical rants. Giving a pilot a gun is foolish. Sealing the cockpit during flight would work just as well, as would giving the gun to an air marshal of some sort. Unless the airlines want a midflight suicide or another plane crash, they should try to keep firearms off planes. Also, I love the gratuitous knocks to Islam.

Night.