Good Morning Aztlan

Both of us, anyway.

I say we force someone to drive us into town to see Grindhouse. My test is so close, oh sweet freedom...

Well. That was the most screwed up dream ever.

.....I have no words.

Oh, wait, yes I do.

First, Ay dios mio, MY EYES.

Second, Kyle does not look good in pink.

Kyle? Why are we watching Dancing with the Stars?

I have been informed that I must make use of this thing if I am to be released. Something about getting to know my peers before I am flung out of here on my behind. (Moria's words, not mine) Since I am about to start climbing the walls in boredom, I have agreed.

I have also been informed that people do not know the reason I am here, and that if I wish it to stay a secret it will remain so. I can just be another one of the students who woke up in a hospital bed. (Something that worries me a little) Attractive as that option is, I hate secrets, almost as much as I hate pity.

So, who am I? My name is Julio Richter, and last week I destroyed San Diego.

Mucho gusto.