Beautiful Nightmare

Sometimes angry omelet man visits me in my dreams.
He stands on the ledge and taps at my window, is he lost?
He makes me open the window and we cuddle.
I haven’t slept in four days.

-Papa Tropicana

Copyright is a bitch

Due to copyright issues, the following video could not be named "It's So Cold in the DC" but you can still imagine. Enjoy this documentary of our fantastic Dining Center.

OVERHEARD AT THE DC

Saturday 11/21/09 outside the DC

"We can either go for a bike ride or smoke pot and watch 30 Rock"
"Dude, those things are definitely not mutually exclusive"
"Done."

- Cancer Corner

Second Hand What?

One cool evening I strolled out of the dc ready for a relaxing cigarette and expecting to continue with my nightly routine. not so. As I was casually pulling out my lighter, the dc doors burst open and out walked a boy in sweatpants who upon exiting ripped himself a new one. the fart reverberated through the outdoor foyer but without stopping he just aired it out with a little waddle and continued down the stairs. His friend didn't even look his way. At least his routine isn't destroying his lungs; maybe just a little of his dignity.
- acdc maxazria

Fro-Yo Information

thank god the fro-yo is back, my heart has been slowly thawing without it.
♥ Lady-DC

Guilt pt 1

Why did I have to steal that bear bottle of honey from the DC? It stares at me from on top of my refrigerator, and when it’s dark, I can see its shadow on the wall.

-LadyDC ♥

Light of my life, fire of my loins

I staggered groggily into the DC Thursday morning about thirty minutes before my 9:00 A.M. Psyc. Class, the seductive stank of the angry omelet man’s griddle ushering me comfortingly inside. My mind was already wandering in ecstatic release at the thought of the feast which awaited me as I made my way through the majestic, oak paneled doors and towards the DC employee (oh, the Woman!) standing expectantly behind the register, a voluptuous smile glistening upon her chocolate brown lips. I advanced forward eagerly and presented my VCard with the usual, passionate thrust of my pulsing appendage, but, to my breathless wonderment, it was received this time, not with the passive resignation I had come to expect from my daily DC explorations, but rather, on this magical morning, by an enticing and sensual caress delivered to my throbbing palm as her hand brushed mine for, oh, but an instant. She snatched my VCard away as I stood before her with my breath hot in my throat, my arm still erect in longing. She plunged it down into the slot, and then twice more before handing it back with a disinterested shrug as I, lip trembling, sensations ablaze, slid mechanically into the DC and away from her. In all it took only eighteen minutes to satisfy the angry rumbling in my stomach with a heavenly combination of cinnamon rolls and laxative stuffed eggs, but the unplacated longing in my loins had just begun.

PapaTropicana