Early one Friday night, Collin, Julian, and I were on our way to Thayer Street, which is sort of like the "teen hot spot" in Providence, Rhode Island. For anyone who is familiar with New York City, it could be called a mini St. Mark's. My boyfriend was driving, I was in the passenger seat, and Julian was in the back. As we neared Thayer, I looked out onto the sidewalk ahead and saw a familiar face.

"Collin!" I said. "Isn't that Thomas?"

Indeed it was. We pulled onto a side street, parked the car, turned it off, and waited.

After a moment of dead silence, Julian said, "You two are really creepy."

"Shh," I replied. "We're working."

When you're nearing the end of your senior year in high school, college plans come up in conversation a lot. Recently a bunch of my friends and I decided we would stay local and attend Rhode Island College. Britt and I decided that we would try to room together. Our friend Marlana had bigger plans.

"Brittney, do you know what I'm going to do to you in college? Every night I'm going to take off my clothes. And hump you. Violently."

There was a bit of a problem with a senior at my school, Mark, and one of our two Aides (who can be more simply referred to as security guards). The aide in question was Mr. K, who had been at the school since the 70's, possibly even longer. He sold ice cream at lunch and had a penchant for waddling around school and talking about the birds and rats he had seen around the campus to any student who would listen.

One day, Mark decided to get a little rough with Mr. K, and started pushing him around. Now, it was obnoxious and annoying, but Mark is a generally obnoxious and annoying person, and he meant it all in good humor. Well, in response to the student abuse, Mr. K hauled back and threw his hot coffee right in Mark's face. Mark was taken to the hospital to be treated for burns, returning to the school a week later. Mr. K did not return.

About a month after the incident, meatloaf was served in the school cafeteria. As Kavi dug in, Britt, who had been watching silently, pointed a finger at the brown lump and proclaimed, "That's Mr. K."

Kavi replied, "And boy is he tasty!"

I'm a frequent attendee of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Actually, I recently became a member of the only active cast in Rhode Island, the RKO Army. One night in October I was at the show with Julian, who happens to be very well endowed in her upper region. Before the show there was an auction, during which I won a prop that had been used in the previous month's show. For how much I won the signed piece of broken table I will not say, lest I have to endure any more ridicule for it than I already have.

Well, after the show, as we were on our way out, we passed by two cast members who were standing by the show. One of them, 'Mullet', called out to me and said, "Thank you for your money!" The other one, AJ, took a look at Julian's corseted form, and immediately followed Mullet's comment with, "Thank you for your boobies."

As a Student Ambassador, I get to travel a lot. In the summer of '05 I traveled to France, Italy, and Spain. One day I noticed that one of the other ambassadors, Joey, was wearing a nice shirt, so I decided to compliment him on it.

"Hey Joey, that's a nice shirt."

"Thanks, I work out."

Health class was always interesting, especially with Mr. Jackson as the teacher. Earlier my senior year we were discussing relationships, and Mr. Jackson posed this question to the class:

"So what do you do if you and your significant other are going to different colleges? Do you break it off?"

"Didn't they go over this in Road Trip?" someone else asked. Following that comment, this exchange occurred between Mr. Jackson and Billy:

"For some reason I don't think it would be a good idea to take anything that happened in that movie into consideration."

"Oh come on, Mr. Jackson, you mean you've never put peanut butter on your balls and had a dog lick it off?"

"No, I have not done that, thank you!"

On another Student Ambassador adventure to Japan in the summer of '06, I was on a bus with my delegation in Hiroshima. Naturally, the tour guide felt it necessary to discuss Sadako.

"Now does anybody know how many cranes she made?"

"One thousand!" Jill blurted out.

"No!" I yelled. "She didn't get to one thousand! That's why she died!"

I'm so glad that nobody heard me.

As a small and skinny white girl, I have been blessed with a, to say it bluntly, extremely huge butt. After buying a skirt in Harajuku, I was more than excited to try it on. With Mia to bear witness, I slipped on the skirt and found a full-length mirror so I could view its effects. What I soon found was that it was very…accentuating.

"Holy shit!" Mia screamed. "Your ass has its own gravitational pull!"

"Can guys really go blind from jacking it too much? What if they jack it, and then eat a bunch of carrots?"

I have strange and random musing a lot.

My friend Jake makes me laugh more than anyone else I know. He also likes to talk about girls. And boobs. A lot.

"I had this thought just now. Of like, the whole 'running through a field of flowers' thing. Okay, so we're running toward each other, and then we both leap…and your boobs, like, attack me. I'm not sick! Your boobs attacking me is a very probable thing!"

When I don't feel like discussing something, my usual response to a question will be, "I don't remember." Well, sometimes that's just not good enough for Jake.

"'I don't remember, I don't remember.'" That's your response to everything, Sammi. I hate to think of someone who tries to ask you about your first time. 'Were you cold?' 'I don't remember.' 'Was it weird?' 'I don't remember.' 'Did they use their penis?' 'I don't remember.'"

Until I was eleven years old, my hair was so long that I could sit on it. Then, when I was about to enter high school, I decided to cut it above my shoulders. Since then I've steadily been growing it back out, so that it now reaches down to my tailbone.

Jake doesn't like it very much.

"How long do you fucking want your hair? You're gonna be using it as fucking toilet paper if you keep going."

Jake and I would sometimes have discussions about Harry Potter at night.

"Snape needs to invent a potion to cure being so goddamn ugly. Or create something to get him laid. I swear to god if he got laid he's loosen up and shit. He can make weed that smokes itself. Can you imagine doing magic while stoned? That'd scare the shit outta me. Little impy things trying to assrape me…and Dobby, too. I don't trust his teleporting ass."

"You've got a whorish mouth, you know that? I'm gonna punch you right in the ovary."

I really do talk to Jake too much.

On the same night that the 'Snape' conversation occurred, I brought up the moment where Ron almost called Ginny a whore, or something to that effect.

"Well maybe Ron wasn't gonna call Ginny a whore. He could'a said 'smiggledorf'. You don't know."

Sometimes Collin forgets people's names. For example, he could never remember Rosalia's name to save his life. Eventually he just took to calling her 'Sheryl'. They would have these exchanges in the hallway where he would yell out, "Hey, Sheryl!" to which she'd reply, "It's not SHERYL, it's ROSALIA!"

But I guess Collin isn't very good at remembering nicknames, either.

"Hey, Shirley!"

"It's not SHIRLEY, it's SHERYL! …FUCK!"

I guess it grew on her.

When you're not allowed to leave your hotel room at night, but you're feeling antsy, what else is there to do but call the other people in your delegation and have ridiculous conversations? This can have some interesting effects, as I noticed…

"Mike, talk dirty to me!"

"Jen, I want you to massage my asparagus with butter!"

One night in August '06 I was introducing Julian to alcohol. I mixed myself a screwdriver and was thoroughly enjoying it when I made the mistake of giving Julian a sip.

"Oh my god…I want your screwbutt!"

"It's a screwdriver."

"Give me your screwbutt!"

"She's drinking my screwbutt! SHE'S DRINKING MY SCREWBUTT!"

I'm obsessed with pirates. And when I saw a bunch of sexy pirate costumes online, I knew what I was going to be for Halloween. And for Throwback Day during Spirit Week of my school. Beyond excited at the thought, I showed a picture of the costume from the website to my friend Johnny.

"Wow," he said upon seeing it. "That was an extreme stereotype of sexual erotica. It was specifically effective in enhancing my eye movement…and…other…things. Like…my FINGERS."

When the famous 'Mr. Miyagi' passed away, I was quite distressed. Weeks after it happened, I still couldn't help myself from ranting about it on the bus.

"Mr. Miyagi is dead!"

"He's been dead for like three weeks," Charlie replied.

"But he's still dead!"

"Of course he's 'still dead'. Death is sort of a chronic condition. When people die…they stay dead."

Most girls only have to 'ride the crimson wave' for a handful or less of days. I'm not so lucky. This little fact became known to Eric, who felt the need to comment, saying, "Damn, you bleed longer than most girls. Perhaps it's because you have a very wideset vagina or something?"

Eric is followed around by dirty jokes, whether he's making one or he's the brunt of one. One night at rehearsal for the school play, he was trying to change the bulb in one of the spotlights, and wasn't exactly having an easy time doing it. He called down to us, "I can't get it in the hole!" To which our director replied, "You have that problem a lot, don't you Eric?"

"Now really…is there such a thing as underpants?"

Thomas is most definitely a piece of work.