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"By The Time You Read This You'll Have Already Read It"
Now Playing: "Somebody Told Me" by The Killers
Like you, the general college-attending Internet-column-reading
public, I am packing up to go back to school this week. As you can
imagine, this has led to a very busy time for me, especially since
last week I
committed suicide and spent much of
the next few days getting out of that mess. So now I have a column
deadline fast approaching, a plane to catch that I'm almost
certainly going to miss, and as far as everyone's concerned I'm also
quite dead. Here's what happened:
-I always pack too many clothes. If
I'm going away for a weekend, I'll pack three different outfits even
if I know I'll be wearing the same thing the whole time. If I'm
going away to college, I'll pack every single article of clothing I
have ever owned, and then I'll go down to Old Navy and buy some
more. Then, when I get to school, I'll unpack my clothes and slap
myself on the forehead and ask, "What was I thinking when I brought
this along?" Because frankly, Old Navy is hella tacky.
-It is recommended that college students bring at least one "formal"
outfit along, "just in case." Of course, by "just in case" we are
referring to a formal dance, which is just like a regular dance
except everyone wears a suit. Even the girls. I suggest you bring
two formal outfits, "just in case" the drycleaner has a hard time
getting peach Schnapps and vomit out of the first one.
-You will want to bring a
computer along, even if your school
says you don't need one. If you don't have a computer, you'll become
one of those unfortunate people who knocks on my door at 3:30am
because they need to print something for the next morning and the
computer lab's closed and I'll be really quick and there are no
color pictures and I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU. Also, if you
don't have a computer, you will be unable to illegally download the
Milkshake song and set Winamp to repeat while you go away for the
weekend. Nobody minds that at all.
-If you're going to live in a dormitory, be sure to pack as many
halogen lamps as you can fit into your Old Navy satchel. This is
because halogen lamps have been almost universally banned in
dormitories, sort of like crystal meth. Apparently they pose some
sort of fire hazard, which is a lesson you will learn many times
thanks to the numerous fire alarms that will be set off by people
who forgot to turn off their halogen lamps.
Fight fire with fire, I say. And
the best way to cause a fire is with a halogen lamp. I'm bringing
twenty. (This message brought to you by the Tungsten Bashers of
America.)
-A lot of you are probably bringing various decorations and artwork
for your room. This is a mistake, because your school will almost
certainly have a
poster sale a few weeks into the
semester, so you can buy your tacky artwork at factory direct
wholesale overpriced prices. Why bother adding your own touch of
originality when you could just get that black and white
photo of the two girls kissing, or
the one with the guy wearing the shirt that says college? Don't
spend too much on posters, though, as they will almost certainly be
destroyed along with all your other possessions once the place burns
down. Thank you, halogen lamps.
-Off-Topic Corner: It must be tough for a parent to hear their kid
tell them they're gay. It must be even tougher to hear "I'm becoming
a vegetarian." Think about it: From then on the parent is going to
have to cook different meals. They're going to have to deal with
their kid's new friends, who quite frankly will be huge pussies. I
imagine Christmas dinner will never be the same. ("Pass the turkey
substitute.")
-Some college students bring along
a guitar, because they feel that this will create the aura of
coolness that they so richly crave, and also because they enjoy
playing the guitar. Even if you don't know how to play, I believe
you should go out and buy a guitar immediately, because chicks flock
to the guy with the guitar. And the best part about a guitar is that
it's the most bullshit instrument on the planet. You can just twang
on it randomly, without any sense of rhythm or tone, and then tell
people it's "Hotel California." Girls will believe you, because any
song sounds the same as any other when it's on the guitar, which
explains how Nirvana managed to make seventeen albums before Kurt
Cobain couldn't take it anymore. I bet his last words were, "How can
people keep buying this shit? It's always exactly the same!" That's
pretty much how I feel about Survivor, too.
-You will want to bring at least one board game along with you, and
by "one board game" I of course mean RISK. Many a night will be
spent playing Parker Brother's substitute for nicotine. Yes, it's
THAT addictive. But RISK is also very educational. For example,
without RISK you would never have any idea that your best friends
would betray you at the drop of a hat just to conquer South America.
Nor would you have any idea just how important Australia is to world
domination. Seriously, if real wars worked like in RISK, every
single battle in history would end up with the loser tossing another
shrimp on the barbie, or some such nonsense.
-Of course, with all the clothing and assorted college paraphernalia
you will be needlessly packing because you're absolutely sure you'll
need it to survive the next eight months, you're going to need new
luggage. Luckily, this is a simple and inexpensive problem to solve
assuming you live in Bizarro world. Otherwise, you will find buying
luggage to be one of the most troubling experiences of your life.
Apparently they train luggage salesmen the same way they train used
car salesmen and interrogation officers in Guantanamo Bay. Assuming
you survive your trip to the luggage store uncastrated, you will
have spent upwards of $800 on what is essentially a box made of
vinyl. Don't worry, though. The luggage comes with a money back
guarantee, which would be pretty goddamn handy if you ever get the
nerve to set foot in the store again, which of course you won't.
Luggage salesmen know this, which is why sometimes they give you
suitcases with holes pre-torn in the bottom, in case you ever feel
like raping the luggage the same way they've just raped you.
-Quote of the Moment: A friend of mine, upon hearing the topic for
this week's newsletter: "How can you write an entire column about
packing without even mentioning fudge?" I just like to think I'm
more mature than that, and that I can make it through a single
article without mentioning rough anal sex. Damn! So close.
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