What's the Russian word for "Rain"?

You'll get Sixty Percent Chance of Rain after I install my Cyrillic font for Russian 101 and 101C. Deal with it.


...At any rate, I now have a perfectly stocked pantry under my bed. Yeah. Two microwave-safe pyrex bowls, Spaghetti-o's, Chili, Oreos, Soft Baked Snickerdoodles, and Oatmeal Raisin Cookies.

Unfortunately, I am in the land where Spaghetti-o's and Chef-Boy-ar-dee are in the "International" aisle.

I also have to inform you that I am out of disposable forks.



Other than that, though, I'm good. And I'm not going to get homesick, because I apparently have The Sump here on my floor. Though I've heard the other dorm on this street is the place to be, it's really up here, on third South.

And what is The Sump, you ask?

It's a Nowheresville thing. And I don't just mean you have to be from Nowheresville. You have to have gone to Nowheresville Memorial High School.

See, we at Nowheresville Memorial are a classy bunch. When we're drinking underage, but to young to pass for 21 -- even with a fake ID -- we drink at a place called The Sump. But what is The Sump? Well, The Sump is exactly what it sounds like -- it's a sump -- or, rather, a drainage reservoir.

Yeah. There are two ways into The Sump: through the hole in the fence in the CVS parking lot -- that's the "proper way" -- or over the fence in the County Department of Public Works parking lot. (It really ought to be noted, though, that going over the fence isn't that big of a deal. The fence dips down to ground level, so you can just walk over it. The hard part is getting into the parking lot in the first place.)

When you actually look old enough to pass for 21 -- usually senior year -- it's like a ritual of passage. You get a fake ID that says you're 21, throw out the one that says you're 18, and go down to the bar at the end of the street, where you can now (with any luck) be crowned Reigning Beer Pong Champion of the High School.


That's why I can't get homesick. The Sump came with me.



Oh, and, on an entirely unrelated note, I've noticed that no one has been commenting. But, y'know, no one ever comments. The last comment I got was a spammer talking to me about logging. As in chainsaws. And trees.

That was awkward.

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