YOU GUYS. If it weren't for my laziness and messiness when it comes to statistics homework, I would not have watched Neil Gaiman read Chapter 1 from The Graveyard Book tonight. THIS IS WONDERFUL TRUFAX. Instead of typing my homework up, I scribbled it in my notebook and ripped out the pages. My notebook isn't perforated, so there are those ugly paper babychad tatters and I was like, "It's about time I stop procrastinating buying scissors."

SO OFF I GO TO THE BOOKSTORE. AND. IN THE WINDOW WAS A FLYER and it OOZED GLORIOUS INFORMATION ABOUT HOW THE MAN HIMSELF WILL BE AT THE HORACE MANN AUDITORIUM AT 7 PM TONIGHT. I had thought I was just going to tough it out through statistics and then go home and promptly pass out for 12 hours, and then the day was like, "BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE."

It's kind of like Ben Folds Five, how tales of entertaining performances accrete glitter and flash until they're like, legend (OR SOMETHING). I arrived 15-20 minutes early and the place was PACKED, but I managed to get a seat in the second row anyway! GO ME. GO NEIL. He reads! He does accents! He has good timing! He knows how to orally interpret section breaks! He ties anecdotes together! He tells jokes! IT IS TRUE, PEOPLE, HE REALLY DOES SHIT GOLD AND PISS RUBIES OUT HIS EARS.

Also, he has a SLIGHT paunch.

( SAY HI TO THE DREAM KING FOR ME )

Also. That girl who yelled "I LOVE YOU NEIL!!1" at the end? That was me.