This concious condition courtesy of the fire alarm and the dumbass bimbo airhead pothead stoner brainless fucks in Suite 2010, smoking marijuana inside the buliding.
It was rather satisfying to see Brett reaming them out as I staggered back into my dorm, the shivering from heading out into the cold evening wearing only my pajamas and a hastily-worn pair of shoes only now subsiding. I vaguely heard that Todd (the RCD) would do worse tomorrow- and I have the feeling that's to say nothing of the dorm as a whole, who will likely be happy to defenestrate the moronettes in question. I'd help.
Making matters worse was the heavy number of cigarette smokers (the normal kind) outside where we were all collecting. They were everywhere, the wind was not on my team, and I'm really fucking sick right now because I had no way to get out of the cloud of poison, nor did I have my inhaler at the time.
Ughh. My inhaler has the added side-effect of getting me hyper, wired, and insane. It lets me breathe and can, y'know, save my life if it gets that bad, but it also causes me to not be able to sleep for, like, two weeks.
I can't win, and I'm so tempted to go kick some ass...