Looks like Paul's joined up: Excellent. I've invited yet another blogger to join the illustrious in.circles team, Jimbo, who might actually be the only person left that still reads this thing. If he accepts the invitation to join up you should start seeing posts from him soon.

I tried to change the color scheme and font sizes on the page but everytime I made any HTML changes using this Blogger tool the whole thing went haywire. I'm confused and can't focus on trying to figure out how to make the proper changes with all of this homework looming over my head. Plus I'm listening to the Blood Brothers right now... and who the fuck can focus while listening to that?

At any rate... it's about time I let you all know that I'm living a lie. You see, my girlfriend lives in a very nice apartment complex in Boston's back bay. To get inside you have to have your own set of keys, get buzzed up using this crazy buzzer contraption, or be lucky enough to catch someone coming out the door. This is a huge hassle that usually ends up with her just trekking it down three flights of stairs to let me in herself. Starting about a week ago everytime I've come to the entranceway the doorman has been buzzing me in, which is NOT something that they usually do. Initially I thought he had just seen me around a lot and was being a nice guy. However, the other day while I was leaving the apartment complex he was standing in front of me and said "Back to class?".

"No," I replied, "heading home."
"I thought that you lived here?"
This is the point where I realized that he'd only been buzzing me in because he thought I lived there. With only a second to think about the whole thing I responded, "Oh... I do... I'm going home-home, you know, like to my parents house."
"Oh great! Well, have a great weekend and I'll see you soon."

This might not seem like a big deal... but now everytime I go over there, which I've already stated is quite often, I have to look this poor gentleman in the face knowing that I am a big fat liar. Already my dishonesty has had side-effects. Less than 24 hours later I walked past this man again while heading to Marissa's place. He questioned why I was back so soon. I told him I only went home for the night. For a graduation party. I think I may have flinched, though. I think he's on to me. I can see it in his eyes. Surely he can smell it on me. I'm done for. Should I come clean? Can I continue to function normally knowing that everything I do and say from here on in will be tainted because of my being too lazy to learn how to use the apartment complex's buzzing machine? Heaven, forgive me. --