As anyone who has ever dwelled in this poor excuse for living quarters knows, no act of bringing a female back to the home ever goes unnoticed (thanks to paper-thin walls and the fact that there is only one escape route).
Last evening I awoke from my slumber only to hear a loud ruckus coming from one of my roommates (who will remain nameless) and a female companion arriving home from the bars at about 2 a.m. After spitting game about Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, bragging about blogging, and being told by this female "Don't blog now, you can blog about it tomorrow," I was certain that my roommate had totally blown this miserable attempt at getting this girl into bed with him. To my great surprise, though, these tactics apparently worked, and the aforementioned roommate somehow managed to seal the deal with this broadstreet (I kid you not, this is exactly how it went down).
After a brief silence, assuming that the two had passed out, I attempted to return to my slumber. Shortly thereafter, though, I was startled by a scream from said roommate: "FINISHED! I'M THE MAN!" After what I would presume to be a confused silence by the woman-friend, I could only chuckle to myself about what just occured. I dare say BOX house was close to its first Bill Nye the Science Guy Experience.
I'm sorry for bringing this event to your attention, but I felt obligated to historicize this great conquest.
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