Premature.

Pick up this week's issue of U Weekly.

Open it to pg. 37.

Look at the round picture.

That's my butt crack.

Neat.

Surely this doesn't make me famous. I've often stated that if I had to become famous, I would ask that fame wait until I were dead or dying.

And yet! There I am. The article is called Joe the Plumber, a Super Mario of Politics. There is also a Drew Barrymore/Winona Ryder effect when you carry the pixelated portion of photo which is my boxers and butt crack.
Joe the Plumber is famous.
People in tabloids are famous.
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By the transitive property, I, too, am obviously famous. And if you don't believe me, well, you can bite my ass, because I don't have to explain my fame to you.

Suspicions

A List of Various Thoughts I have had Today while Experiencing the Sensation of Sinking

1. The only thing that will get me through Astro-Stat-Man's class is his pacing. The only thing that will keep me showing up is his Slavic (Polish) accent.
2.I should have bought my books before school started.
3. It's probably not safe for all these people to be here at once.
4. Those Bonded Money/Your Taxes at Work/Thanks, Suckers signs are some passive aggressive attempt to get people to stop voting for these road bills or whatever they are.
5. I'm assuming some major karmic debt for taking the last original oreo package.
6. This embargo on crossing the road in front of cell-phone using drivers unless I've received eye contact and some form of hand signal from them is probably indicative of an underlying trust issue, but I really only think about it after I've finished talking to my sister's friend in Homeland Security about whether or not ███████ is connected to ███████ in ██. It takes up nearly all my time.