Being the stubborn You Can't Beat Me asshole that I am, I've decided that I would conquer even this pitiful little slump with vindictive arrogance.
"Well how do you plan on doing that, oh ruthless one?"
Simple. I walked to a friend's room and knocked until HE answered. Keyword here is HE. I then addressed him.
"Jessica, hi, listen, I'm going to need you to go ahead and grab those neat little keys of yours and hop into your beloved car and drive me to some place that sells DVDs. Now, seeing as you're currently eating pizza, I won't even have to feel obligated to buy you dinner or anything, which really makes my own selfish ends that much more wonderful. So whenever you're ready, knock on my door, princess, and I'll leave you some gas money."
We went to the main PX, where some musical pop-pseudo-divas that I've never heard of were supposedly autographing CDs while remaining an otherwise anonymous blip on the American Pop Culture radar. After he bought what he needed, my friend and I trekked to Target or something like that off post, where I snatched up Season 1 of the best show ever, Scrubs. Those of you who are in fact, Scrubs-savvy will catch my borrowing of Dr. Cox's use of patronization and calling a guy by a girl's name.
To compensate him, I took him to see Jackass 2.
And now I'm going to investigate a disturbance in the hallway.
The barracks are slightly festive. Scrubs is my alibi.