When there's something strange in the neighborhood...who you gonna blame? CRONUS.
When there's something strange and it don't look good...who you gonna blame? CRONUS.

Oh, I do not need this during finals. FUCK THIS NOISE.

I can't hear you. Who you gonna blame?

Gods damn.

I heard I missed one hades of a party.

Ah, well.

I've been up to my elbows in ascomycetes and basidiomycetes for the last week. Tell me there is a point to all this. It is terribly interesting, yes, but I do not like having to actually work so hard. I think I may be developing a callous on my thumb. It's distressing.

Nemesis, where are you? Are you alive?

Mortals have created an interesting new torture device called Finals week. It a week-long test of one's abilities an one's physical and mental endurance. These two-to-three-hour long examinations are allegedly designed to evaluate how much we've learned over the semester. I think it's bullshit.

You lot are boring. Someone please prove me wrong.

...except you, Neme. You'd just put a knife through my door again.

I'm sick.

Nemesis. I need some chicken soup and rice and a hug. Come in here.

As amusing as eating ice cream with the lump on the couch is, I've grown quite bored of my current situation.

What's entertaining out there?

All right. Whose brilliant idea was it to take me out of Hades and drop me in here?

...also, who decided I needed a roommate who is a raving hormonal lady suffering from some form of female affliction?


Good job, Fates. You've done it again.