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Also, might I add, sometime in the vicinity of one AM last night, after Sar was passed out on the couch in my room, after we had studied since seven, and after I had finished a half-hearted paper on the adolescent stage of human development (it was supposed to be about my teen years and all the trouble I got into, but since I didn't get into much trouble in my teen years, it's a pretty boring paper overall), I wandered from my room to go downstairs and do my bedtime facial prep routine. Upon opening my bedroom door, there sat Andrew on the living room couch, reading. Reading? He wasn't on the computer, and it didn't appear to be a technical manual he was reading... I asked him what it was, and he said nothing. He lifted the book off of his lap to display the title on the spine, and lo and behold - Shakespeare. Andrew was reading Shakespeare (!!!). Julius Caesar, to be exact. As I said, smelly girls need not apply.