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After a hard game of floor hockey, my socks were drenched with sweat. As the social college trend goes, you propped your door open when you were around (and not masturbating). Now, the door is maybe 3 feet wide, and it doesn't take a physics major to know a person walking by is only visible (and able to look in the room) for a split second. In that split second, a guy I never talk to who lives on my floor saw me take a big whiff of the ol' sweat-sock. Damn.
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"Asking a bomb squad if an old bomb is still "real" is not the best thing to do if you want to save it." - denim
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