When my mother called that it was time to go, I went out to the hall with every intention of telling her that I wasn't going to the Loskis for dinner.

It's strange. Here I was, having lunch with the hottest girl in school and I was miserable.

Sheldon, when the president of the university is giving a eulogy at a funeral, don't yawn and point at your watch.

So in the face of overwhelming odds, I'm left with only one option, I'm going to have to science the shit out of this.

Oh my gosh. See? I am an artist. I am finally something. Maya. What a life I'm having.

You think that's bad? In college, I passed out at a frat party and woke up with more clothes on.

Master, I just want to assure you that I had no part in this hopeless plan. Preparing a dinner, designing a gown for her, giving her a suite in the east wing.