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"Now with advertising!"
Now Playing: "Hotel" by Cassidy feat. R. Kelly
Today's column is all about cleanliness. Because cleanliness is
godliness and godliness is emptiness or something like that. It's
been a while since I've listened to the Smashing Pumpkins. I tried
downloading the song so I could get the lyrics right and have the
joke make sense, but all I got was shemale porn. I suppose, when I
think about it, I could have just looked up the words to the song on
one of the 800 billion websites on the Internet devoted wholly to
song lyrics. I've always wondered if the people who run those sites
actually listen to the songs and then type out the words themselves,
or if they copy and paste them. Because if it's the latter, than
there's really no point in the site existing at all. But if it's the
former, than it's pretty scary. People who type out lyrics are the
closest thing we have to modern-day scribes. I don't want to make
fun of them too much, because those lyrics sites are actually pretty
useful, and plus I'm afraid they'll find me and poke my eye out with
a quill. Here's what happened:
-Quote of the Moment: Sign posted outside a classroom, on a public
bulletin board: "Writer's Wanted." At first I thought it was ironic,
what with them making a grammatical error right on the poster. Then
I realized they probably just need "writer's" really badly.
-How come whenever I dry my clothes
in the dryer, no matter what I put in there, the lint in the lint
trap is always blue? I don't even own anything blue! That's going to
be really awkward when I get married. (I don't own anything old, new
or borrowed, either.)
-Once February rolls around, the average college house has reached
it's maximum dirt saturation level. The bad news is, our house is a
sty. The good news is, it can't actually get any dirtier no matter
how hard we try. I could spill a plate of spaghetti on the floor,
leave it there, and call it "cleaning."
-What is it about student houses that makes them so dirty? I think,
more than anything, it's the dishes. Nobody ever wants to do the
dishes. Of course, we have a dishwasher, so you wouldn't think that
would be a problem. But nobody ever wants to load the dishwasher. Or
unload the dishwasher. I haven't had a clean cup or plate for
months. At this point I'm pretty much drinking out of an ashtray and
eating off playing cards. I still wash my forks, though. I have to
draw the line somewhere. Even though it will soon be smudged and
crossed.
-Sometimes, when I'm in the bathroom and I need to blow my nose,
I'll use a sheet of toilet paper in a pinch. Then I start to wonder
how the other pieces of toilet paper feel. I'm not saying that the
other pieces of TP are jealous, necessarily. I'm just saying if I
die and get reincarnated as a sheet of toilet paper, I'd want it to
be THAT sheet of toilet paper.
-Our university had a blood drive this week, so I thought I'd do the
right thing and get me that free popsicle they give at the end.
Turns out I'll let scientists poke me pretty much anywhere if
there's a complimentary dessert involved.
-Did you know you're ineligible to donate blood if you've gotten a
body piercing or tattoo within the last year? I guess I wouldn't
want some freaky goth kid's blood, when I think about it. But they
make you sign a form stating that you haven't gotten a tattoo or a
body piercing in the last twelve months. They also ask you if you've
been to England during the mad cow scare. Nowhere on this form does
it ask whether or not you regularly inject heroin into your arm with
rusty needles you found beside a dead guy on the railroad tracks.
Those people probably need the popsicle more.
-So I finally make it past the
forms and into the actual Blood Donating Chamber of Doom. There's
this 'Blood Services' 18-wheel truck idling outside the building,
which is a little scary. They seat me in a little chair in a dark
room with a lightbulb dangling overhead, like an interrogation
chamber. That's more than a little scary. The nurse walks in holding
a bucket! I'm thinking "Oh crap, they're going to fill that bucket
with my blood! I need that blood to live!" But then I'm pleasantly
surprised when the nurse just puts the bucket over my head, so I
won't be able to see/shriek when she pulls the fire hose out from
the back of the 18-wheeler and then yells "Fill 'er up!"
-Nobody wants to miss a good party
just because they're sick. My friends will get drunk when they have
a cold, saying dumb things like "I'll drink my cold away." Like
getting really hammered and throwing up all night is going to make
them wake up fresh and healthy. Idiots. But imagine if this really
worked. Would it really be a good thing? I mean, you could never
call in sick again. "I'm sorry, sir. <cough> I can't come in to work
today. <wheeze> I'm really sick." "Johnson! Don't be ridiculous!
Drink a fifth of Captain Morgan and be here in an hour!"
-The worst feeling in the world is when you're not sick, but you're
starting to FEEL sick, and you know you'll be sick in a few days. So
you start drinking lots of liquids and taking multivitamins
preemptively. Every time someone asks you how you're doing, you say
"I think I'm coming down with something" and then force a cough to
drive your point home. Then you're in class and someone starts to
sneeze or blow their nose, so you instantly get up and move as far
away from them as possible so you don't catch whatever they've got.
But the next day, despite your best efforts, you're always sick as
hell anyway. It's ok, though. You're still going to that party, gosh
darn it! Hey, it's better than doing those dishes.
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