Not a problem, anonymous! I am fired the fuck up and could care less about the fucking Buckeyes…there are evil crack-rabbits in my head and I’m going to go buy a fucking hockey stick and beat the living shit out of someone. It’s taking every fucking ounce of restraint in my withered body to not spell it all out here in detail. There are some things that are private. Or at least they’re supposed to be! I try very hard to subscribe to a nonviolent, civil disobedience school of thought and type of action to right wrongs, but I feel really fucking murderous. You know, the feeling when you’ve got a really hilarious story to tell, then someone jumps in and interrupts and tells the funny part in a louder voice than you? Yeah, like that. But not fucking funny. Not fucking funny at all. In fact, I might just go cry about it. BOO FUCKING HOO! boohooboohooboohoo.