>>> Text-Heavy
By staff writer E.E. Southerby
Volume 24 – March 23, 2003
Hi everybody. It's been quite a busy week for me here at Text-Heavy. I finally got down to business and started a war with Iraq. Oh, no, wait. That wasn't me. That was George “W” Bush, the man who proved he's not afraid to defy the Joint Chiefs, the U.N. and the American people in order to “make a point”. You know you're in trouble when you're losing in a popularity contest with Saddam Hussein. As for me, here's what happened:
-Backpacks are getting bigger. I see people walking around campus with bags big enough to transport small children. These bags have more straps, clips, water bottles, handles, zippers and tags than anybody could possibly need. And big backpack people are always walking really slowly right in front of me, often in herds, weighed down by the sheer poundage of their own knapsacks. What the hell is wrong with these people? You're going to class, not leading an expedition up Mt. Fiji. Get the hell out of my way!
-Whenever one of my friends gets so drunk he starts to puke, my first instinct is always to take pictures. I'm not sure why, but this always occurs to me before I think to help them out or get a bucket or something. It just seems like the thing to do.
-My friend Donald had an essay due the same day that the US was scheduled to invade Iraq. Around 3:30 in the morning, Donald was nowhere near close to finishing his essay, for which he had already negotiated an extension, and thus in an act of desperation submitted this week's Quote of the Moment: “Great. Now I have something in common with Saddam. We're both fucked tomorrow.” I figured, as long as that was true, he should offer to switch places for a day, if only to see who had it worse.
-It's gotten to the point where the lunatic who lives below me has complained about me being too loud so many times that I just don't care anymore. Late at night, I jump on my bed and throw chairs around and I'm even thinking of getting a basketball, just to piss the delinquent off. As such, this is the last time I will even acknowledge his existence, and I offer to him this final piece of advice: Dude, don't worry. There's hope for you yet. There are doctors who can help you and women who will tell you they love you if you pay them.
-Now Playing: “This Year's Love” by David Gray. It's even more fun to listen to really loudly late at night while jumping up and down.
-I imagine, given the level of rampant homophobia that's, well, rampant here at University, if someone were to require CPR and the only person who knew how to do it was of the same gender, he wouldn't do it because it would be ‘gay'. Actually there's not really anybody around here who knows anything about First Aid, which you would think would be a handy skill to have. Around here, people still think the way to revive a choking victim is by grabbing his ankles and swinging him around in a circular motion. But only if the victim is of a different gender, because otherwise it's ‘gay'. (Side Note: I've heard rumors of guys referring to handicapped people as “Stumbly-Wumblys”, “prey” and “Ingredient ‘B'”.)
-With the semester quickly coming to a close, people are getting desperate looking for summer work. The University has a “co-op” system set up so you can find a high-paying job that can help further your experience and knowledge in your field of study. That is, of course, provided that ‘high paying' means 10 cents more than minimum wage and your field of study is fetching coffee. Otherwise, you're shit out of luck, stumbly-wumbly.
-My guess is that a lot of the people who walk around campus talking into their cell phones aren't really talking to anyone, they're just holding the cell phone to their ear and pretending to have a conversation so that they'll look cool. I'm just waiting for the time when the guy waiting at the bus stop beside me has his phone ring on him while he pretends to have an animated conversation with an imaginary being about the size of his backpack. He'll probably have a stroke from the shock of having a real person actually call him, and I'll rush to the rescue. Not that I know CPR or anything, but still. It'll be hilarious.
-I find college kids have the most interesting conversations when they're drunk. They'll talk about politics, the economy, the environment. It's like college is a big intellectual hotbed of activity, with enlightening discussions going on late into the night, only nobody can remember them the next morning. Then, when people are sober, they get really lame-ass and boring and the only thing they ever do is talk about their big backpacks.