Today I was in the process of leaving my room for dinner when I heard what sounded like a girl experiencing the ecstasy of sex in my apartment-mate's room. Slowly I became aware that what I was hearing was not, in fact, an orgasm, but my apartment-mate himself, singing loudly in a pained falsetto. Which made it ok, I guess
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Aw, man...design class, you? As someone who has first hand knowledge of your asthetic savviness (or rather, lack thereof), I'm so, so sorry. :/
Maybe you can apply for one of those special-needs thingys and get out of taking the class?
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