Haring Hall, since the begining of the school year, has its temperature (it seems, permanently) fixed at five degrees above normal. Stepping into Haring Hall makes me feel like a thawing, previously frozen potato. Now, if you've ever thawed a frozen potato, or have lived somewhere that involves potatos freezing in the winter, you know how that goes: limp, useless, and somewhat disgusting. It's not a particularly helpful state to be in for a math class at 8 in the morning.
I have nothing against chickens. They're just chickens.
[edit 20:47] Karaoke night. Unbelievable, is the word.
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