By staff writer E.E. Southerby
Volume 15 – January 19, 2003
These introductions were always the hardest parts of the newsletter to write. I wanted them to be funny, so I could get people's attention, but I didn't want it to sound like I was trying too hard. Also, I almost never have anything to say here, and since I'm generally so laconic you can understand how I could be uncomfortable writing crap just to fill space. Not this week, though. I'm proud to introduce my new website. Without sounding like too much of a braggart, I do believe this is the greatest site on the internet. You should definitely check it out and tell all your friends. My global fame and fortune depends on it. Here's what happened this week (like you care):
-There is no soap nor towels in the communal bathroom. We have to supply our own, and I always forget to bring some with me, so my personal hygiene is approximately equivalent to that of Pigpen from the Peanuts gang. Think about it. Suppose you went to a restaurant and after using the bathroom, you neglected to wash or dry your hands and then went right back to eating. That's what I'm like every day now.
-You don't see many drive-in movies these days. What the hell happened?
-What is with people not flushing the toilet in the residence bathroom? I never understood this phenomenon in public bathrooms, but now I'm even more befuddled. I mean, it's basically YOUR toilet. Do you not flush at home? Just because I don't wash my hands after going to the bathroom doesn't give YOU an excuse to be disgusting.
-The bedroom walls are made of paper. You can hear everything. So every night, while I'm trying to get some sleep, it feels like there are people having a party inside my walls. I don't know if I'm in university or Fraggle Rock. (Note to self: Check to make sure that reference makes any sense before publishing newsletter.)
-When I first moved into this residence room, it smelled way worse than the communal toilet that someone neglected to flush. So I opened the window. That didn't help. It still smelled bad, and it was also cold. So I went and bought some air fresheners. Now my room smells like Skittles. Also, I'm still cold and I constantly crave candy.
-We went to a house party last weekend, where I got to witness firsthand the newest fad in male mating calls. Here's how it works: All the guys that are looking to hook up huddle together outside on the balcony, where they pretend to make small talk and slowly get frostbite. Meanwhile, the girls sit inside the house (where it's warm) and listen to music while staring out at the losers on the balcony. Eventually, one of the ‘men' separates from the pack and enters the house, where he does a complete circle around the girls while the remaining guys outside do a play-by-play commentary (“He's going for it! Oh…rejected!”) The guy, unable to even make eye contact with a girl, suavely strolls back outside to rejoin the herd. Repeat until someone hooks up or everyone's toes fall off from the cold.
-Ever see those guys at parties who disappear with a girl into a bedroom for like a half-hour and then come out by themselves, and you don't see the girl again for the rest of the night, and you get really worried that something horrible happened to her and then she turns up a few days later and refuses to tell you what happened? These sorts of mysteries keep me up at night almost as much as Red Fraggle does.
-I noticed that the cafeteria has a section dedicated to all the uncool people. I don't understand it… It's like all the people who eat with their friends sit at one end of the dining hall, and all the losers who have to eat by themselves sit on the other. You'd think the loners would at least band together and make friends with each other, but there's always like 3 chairs separating each person. It's really weird. If I had a bird's-eye-view of the cafeteria, the east wing would look like Nerd Checkers.
-Now Playing: “Back to Mad” by Texas Faggott. I was a little iffy about recommending this one. Just because Finnish Electronica kicks ass doesn't give the band an excuse for misspelling their name.
-Bad Pick-Up Line Corner: I'm not trying to put myself on any kind of high horse here. I'm such a screw-up with the ladies it would blow your mind. Consider: At parties, girls have been coming up to ME to start conversations, so all I need to do is say something, anything, pleasant and I'd have a hook-up for the night. Instead, I've opened with the following phrases that are guaranteed to make a girl turn away: “I wish I was dead”; “Wanna make out?”; and, my personal favorite, “I feel like I'm going to throw up on your shoes”. Also, jokes about child pornography (or any pornography, for that matter) tend to garner a negative reaction. I have got to stop using my real name.
-Quote of the Moment: Here's a first. My friend John, supplying the first quote that doesn't make anyone sound like they've been hitting the opium pipe: “I'm thinking of asking Kate out, but she doesn't drink. She'll probably want me to stop drinking. I should (expletive deleted) do it. I only drink to meet girls anyways.” Well said, dude. Don't we all? If it wasn't for that pesky ‘s' at the end of that last word I would actually have a lot of respect for you.
-The drunk instant messaging conversation has almost fully replaced the late-night drunken phone call. Basically, the way it works is like this: You come home from a party, after making a baker's dozen girls hate you for your awful pick-up lines, and instead of going to bed the way God intended, you log onto MSN Instant Messenger to check your emails (I find the best emails arrive late at night while I'm at a party obliviously making enemies). There, you notice a bevy of girls who are inexplicably online at 3:30 in the morning, and you start messaging them with these ridiculous phrases such as “hey i so drukn!!!”. What follows is entirely dependent on said girl's inebriated status. If she's been drinking too, she'll probably say something along the lines of “mee to i gotta go scotts here” and if she's not drunk she'll say “leave me alone you already tried to hit on me tonight and i don't care if you wish you were dead. Nobody does.” As you can see, you lose both ways, and the grammar will probably be so poor it will depress you.
-This week a local club held a massive Disco Night. Everyone got so excited, we went out and bought new outfits like we were junior high school girls. I never knew people liked the disco era this much. Me, I was just thrilled for the opportunity to show off my chest hair, rather than hide it, or wax it again.
-How many nights in a row can I get drunk out of my mind and then swear I'll never do it again before people stop believing me? Actually, I'm pretty sure I wore that one out mid-September. I might as well start using using narcotics, too. If I'm going to ruin my life I might as well go all the way.
-And, finally, just to instill some equilibrium into this newsletter and remind everyone that it's about college and I actually do attend classes and learn stuff on occasion, I offer up this perplexing quandary: Professors are always reminding the students of their (the professor's) office hours. I've never gone to see a prof. during office hours, nor have I ever heard of anyone else who has. I imagine an extraordinarily lonely man or woman sitting at a desk for hours at a time, filing their nails, and weeping like that Native American you see parodied so often but don't know where the original came from. Last week I wanted to go visit all my professors during their office hours, just to keep them company, but unfortunately I was unable to make it. It's probably for the best. I was pretty drunk all week and I would have just tried my bad pick-up lines on then anyway.