Ah, my old suitemate Ulrich.  He was great!  Ulrich was a foreign exchange student that decided to stay in America and go to college.  Being European, he was a virtuoso with a soccer ball.  But, being in America, where soccer is stupid (it’s okay, keep reading), he was rushed into playing Football and became the kicker.  No one liked him.  He was too nice and he sounded ‘fur-in.’  He didn’t last long.  He was on my intramural soccer team though.  He hated playing with us because were not European and therefore sucked at soccer.  But, he was my neighbor and a riot.  Occasionally, we would get him to speak in his native tongue and I swear, it sounded just like he was saying “blah bla bluh.”  We decided it was a made up language and he was really from Minnesota or something.  Sometimes, I forgot that he was actually going to college in a foreign language, his third language.  He always got me to take whatever science class he was supposed to take and we worked together.  Ulrich is the reason I speak a little Danish.  Sadly, all I know how to say is really inappropriate, unless you’re having a conversation about someone’s mother who artificially inseminates horses for a living/hobby.

Ulrich had a girlfriend, named Nikki.  They were perpetually breaking up and getting back together.  One night, while she was laying in his bed, she looked up at the ceiling where Ulrich had painted in glow-in-the-dark paint, “Nikki=Bitch.”  I don’t think she was his girlfriend anymore.  No loss.  She was a bitch.

I miss my friend.