After our respective finals, we all went to the Graham quad to play. Kick-ass weather means increased productivity (yeah right, but our morale is amazing), rolling around in the grass, happiness and living Chloe’s life mantra: “Clothing optional”.
This is Santa Clara, through my eyes
(Beware, it’s image heavy.)
One night when Nicolas crashed at Casey’s, I asked if Nick were Jewish. Turns out he isn’t. But how can you blame me? Look at that hair. It’s a legitimate mistake.
Ryan, our resident Cripple runs again. This picture makes me so happy. They always tell stories of how Ryan would be the only one at frat parties, dancing in his wheelchair.
This isn’t a hug of love or anything. This is Chloe givin’ Chase a nice, hard titty-twist. We’re real mature.
Aww, Nicolas needs some love.
I bought new shoes to emotionally prepare myself for finals; they are the nice, pretty wedges sitting next to Monica.
Okay, I know we’re cute. But look at Chloe. That facial expression is priceless.
This is Jack Rice, aka John Slutface-Hollywood.
“I blame these pants on preppy boarding school.” And he isn’t lying. Robbie, before he became a hipster in New York, always wore pants like this from J-Crew.
When Jered skates around with the guitar, I always secretly hope he’ll eat shit.
But he usually doesn’t. I’m the one that eats shit. Ask him about how I almost burned down Hotel Valencia.