Oh yeah, and one more way to feel disgusting

is to snack yourself to bursting and maintain that unflagging feeling of impending explosion for eight hours. Telltale signs: Nutella mustache, Super Mario Bros. shirt embedded with crumbs, indigestion, keyboard ringed around with half-drunk cups of sweet viscous diuretics. I'm both gluttonous and sloppy; the mice in the hall are rejoicing at their good fortune.