Why I don't like living with other people: Parents who come downstairs and talk on the phone sporadically about bipolar schitzophrenia when you're tired and are trying to philosophize. Not to mention I hear the name "Nancy" every ten seconds. I have no clue who the hell "Nancy" is, but apparently she's the source of all my dad's pains in life.

College will be better, when instead of having to listen to conversations in the background I will be subjected to humiliating pranks involving green face paint and a tank of lobsters.