Hey, Squall.

Sometimes I wish I was gay. Then I wouldn't have to put up with women and all the stupid crap they do. Selphie and her little girly friends have got it in their heads to be groupies for that Big O dumbass. They're gonna follow him in a van as he tours the world (I tried to mention that the van can't cross a friggin' ocean but they won't listen). If I want any chance with Selphie (or her friends), I'm gonna have to go along with this crap. Normally, the thought of a long road trip with five hot girls and just me would get me so excited that I'd actually have to wear underwear for once, but since they haven't stopped talking about Big O for days, I feel that my prospects of getting any on this trip is slim to none. And yet I have to go or risk losing everything I worked for with Selphie these past few months. 

None of them seem to care that:

A: "Big O" is actually that crazy Dr. Odine we met in Esthar (I figured it out after he said the word "fisticuffs" for the 50,000th time that day)
B: Odine is like, forty or something
C: He can't rap
D: He only has THREE SONGS!!! His concert consists of him doing those three songs then doing "remixes" where he sings the same three songs over, but in a slightly different voice and with a techno beat in the background. Somehow he stretches this ordeal to make it last four and a half hours.

Rumor around here is that he plans on hitting every city on the map, even Winhill. I may go crazy before we get halfway through the tour. Please, please, please come to Balamb so that I can talk to someone halfway sane for once.

Irvine