In Honor of Our Suitemates' Return

To honor Grace on the day of her return this Wednesday, I propose we build a giant monument, a statuesque sculpture of dirty, used, rotting dishware in homage to our fair-skinned suitemate. It will stretch from a towering peak high above the counter, down into the depths of the sink, which it will fill until the basin runeth over. It will be the the most daunting and daring feat of architecture, engineering, and slovenliness yet achieved by the hands of man. Its glistening surface--smelling foully of hookah smoke and a-titter with the dancing of a thousand fruit flies--will stretch as tall as the sky and deeper than hell.

Yes, suitemates, though it is indeed true that our colossal structure already nears completion, we must not rest; rather, we must continue to dedicate all available resources to fulfillment of the work. We owe her this tribute, for she has done so much. Please, I implore you, if you have any dirty dishes, bring them forth so that they might be added to the pile. (or if you got any clean dishes, i could use those too... srsly, there's like no fucking bowls... Blossum needs his Honey Nut Scooters or it will not be a happy fucking wednesday!!!) The great tower awaits.

Also, someone else come up with a good tribute to honor CG for her return.

-R.S., henceforth to be known as R."Blossum"S.