I was sitting around today, fresh from a game of 8-Ball and a round of Worms Armageddon, when I received a call for assistance from one of my on-campus friends. It turns out that Matt is installing new headlights in his BMW 328is (clear corners and different lenses for the main lights), but the new lights take a different connector than the old lights. He was trying to wire up the new connectors, but the wind and [mild] cold was making his 30-watt soldering iron ineffective.

I came over to new res with, among other things, my propane blow torch in tow. Needless to say, the torch made short work of the soldering. Problem was, a considerable amount of solder vaporized before reaching the wires. Mindful that successful soldering means having solder on the wires, we set out in search of a more appropriate iron. Half an hour later, a 100-watt gun was fired up. It proved barely adequate, so we fell back on the torch several more times. At the end of the evening, one headlight was done. It even worked! More amazingly, Rose Security only bugged us once to get the Bimmer off of the sidewalk (which Matt had parked on to facilitate access to AC power).

After an interlude of a few hours, which included a Speed Three mini-reunion trip to BW3’s and Black Hawk Down, Matt, Chris (a.k.a. Dr. Smack ), Joey and I decided to take Chris’s car out for some donuts. No, not mini donuts, nor square donuts: car donuts. We drove around for a while until we spotted an elementary school parking lot, conveniently located in the Middle of Nowhere. The time being after 1:00 a.m., there wasn’t a soul to be seen. After a brief trek over grass (oops!) we arrived on the parking lot. Chris gunned it, gained speed, and flicked the wheel. Though not really a dount, we DID manage to get the Camry sideways and enjoyed the distinct smell of rubber burning. Not satisfied with this 1/3 donut, we set out again. Before long, we found a deserted, snow-covered, gravel parking lot. Chris dropped the auto into reverse (FWD == donuts easier in reverse), cranked the wheel, and massaged the loud pedal. Brakes were slammed, the rears bit, and the front broke loose. Several revolutions later, we high-tailed it outa there and back to Campus.

Because of these escapades, I was able to miss the enitre Luau Party, a fact that I feel no compunction about. In my mind, our parties are nothing more than excuses to get drunk, not to mention playing loud music throughout the night. As I write this at 3:30 a.m., there are STILL subwoofers thumping. So you can get inebriated and make a fool of yourself. Wow, that took a lot of effort and maturity – good for you. Oh wait, there’s more to it than that. I forgot about breaking random stuff, leaving various messes, and losing all recollection of the night. Man, I must be missing out. Sure, there are women at the parties, but I’m sorry if I don’t find dames reeking of alcohol attractive. Overall, the thing that really gets me is the ‘Saving of the Whales.’ Suffice it to say that for me, avoiding our parties would be more of a benefit than a loss.