Well, it's almost time to return to school again.  Have you missed me?  I can safely say that I have not missed you, because you're not the one writing an awesomely funny blog.  Oops, down, Ego.

College has a lot of perks.

1) I do not have to let my parents know what I am doing during any part of my day unless I deem it necessary to tell them.  And if I do it's a very watered down version: "Yes, mother, I did indeed attend classes today.  Later I plan on spending my night studying."  Translation:  "Yes, mother, I did indeed oversleep for my 1:30 class and then could not be bothered to attend.  Later I plan on spending my night celebrating team Tuesday at the bar, because I am finally 21 and no long have to hide my alcohol addiction."

2) It is much easier to hide the fact that you did not do the reading.  And if you want to at least put in a little effort into pretending you did sparknotes still exists -god knows why- and if it wasn't available, Yahoo answers.  (I've only used this once, it was not reliable, heed this warning).  Now, this may come as a shock to you all but I actually do read for class so this perk is not really useful to me.  But others deem it so.

3) If you don't want to go to class, don't.  Again, I generally attend most (shocking I know) classes.  I will usually skip the allotted three classes allowed, but that's only because I know I can, and sometimes 8:30's are really just too fucking painful.

4) Free dishes and utensils!  If you're too lazy to pack your own, the dining hall offers a wide variety of colors, and lets face it, they're not hard to steal.   Just return them by the end of the year.  Or not.  I think I still have a mug or two lying around.

5) Endless source of amusement.  Lets face it, there are a bunch interesting people on campus.  And there's nothing I like better than to watch them make giant asses of themselves, whether they be drunk or sober.  Lax bros, weird lithousers, library creeps, oit people, there's an endless pool of enjoyment.  Soon, incoming freshman will flock (literally) into our dining hall, our parties (uninvited), and classes.  They will say and do stupid things, and we will be there to laugh.  After we're done laughing we may extend a hand of guidance, or not, your choice.  I like to watch them suffer a little.
5B) If you've forgotten what a freshman is/how they act, please refer back to previous entries.

6) And this is the last one for the night: NO SUMMER READING.  I said it, no summer reading.  None.  That's not to say that I didn't read, because I did, and I read a lot, but I was not forced to read some lame ass crap that I had to glue my eyes open for.  I read way more awesome things, like my tv guide.  Just kidding, I only read that on Mondays.

I hope everyone has been/will be enjoying their last remnants of summer.  It's closing in fast.  I will be spending my last days cooped by in a dark movie theatre with no windows, but that's how I like it.  Plus I didn't spend a dime all summer on films, how much did you spend?  Suckers.

Finals, BFD

It’s finals week.  Which means everyone has turned into big scary dragons.  And the first thing you need to know about Hogwarts is that you “never tickle a sleeping dragon.”  Coincidence?  I think not.  I’m not saying WAC is Hogwarts (‘cause that’s just outlandish).  I’m saying everyone turns into a fire-breathing monster.  Especially if you accidentally wake them up during designated napping times. 

I on the other hand, do not turn into a dragon.  I am a chilled out bunny hanging in the grass and eating some carrots.  And by carrots I meant left over peeps from Easter, I fucking hate carrots.

Here’s the thing about finals that people seem to not understand: they are just tests.  In fact, they’re just glorified midterms.  They just happen to take place all in one week.  You don’t freak out and scream when you have a French test one day and then an English paper due the next during midterm week do you?  No.  You just get it done. 

Why is it that everyone completely looses their shit during finals?  You’re given months notice, and then you have a whole week where maybe, you have one test a day, sometimes two.  And if you have more than three, you can change it!  Incredible!

Finals are built up in people’s minds to be this giant mountain that you can’t conquer.  Well guess that, you can.  It’s called CHILLING OUT.  It’s a test.  Do you really think you’re going to remember the grade out got on a Chemistry test your junior year of college when you’re 36?  No, you’re not.  I don’t remember a single grade I got when I took it in high school.  (But then again I went to progressive hippie school that didn’t give grades, but I digress). 

Finals will not determine your life.  And even if you fail, if you’ve done a pretty good job so far in the semester, you’re not seriously going to screw up your final grade outcome.  And if you do?  You’ll survive.  Your life is not based upon A’s and B’s or even F’s.  F’s, though scary and ego crippling, are learning experiences.  Maybe that astronomy class was not your strong suit; maybe math isn’t the major for you.

People on the street are not going to hand you report cards for how you well you can walk on a sidewalk or how well you did on your blind date.  (Just remember that no matter what you do, blind dates always end in F’s, they are complete bullshit).

So do what I do.  Study.  But not until you’re so tired you can’t keep your eyes open or until your brain hurts.  Just study, and breathe, and sleep.  When someone offers encouragement, take it.  Don’t say “YOU’RE DISTRACTING ME.”  Kind words go a long way and when someone offers support give it back.  We’re all miserable, so you’re gonna want your friends to lean on, not a pile of ashes that were once your friends but you burned them to a crisp with your fiery temper.

If that doesn’t help do what I do: think about summer.  It’s three days away.  Just get trough it.  You have a four-month reward waiting for you at the finish line.   

Room Draw

There are a lot of crappy things about college.  The lack of money, the food at the dining hall, that time where they increased laundry prices.  (I mean seriously, what the fuck).  But worst of all: room draw.  Now I know some time has passed since its occurrence, but I believe this time has allowed our minds to clear and we can look back on it with new perspective.  Actually, no.  It was still bullshit.

I’ve seen more people cry at room draw than I have at a frat party, and that’s really saying something.  Going to a quad party is like watching The Notebook and taking everything away except for the crying – by the way, I really hate that movie.  As in I purposely stole my best friend’s copy to save her poor and rotting brain.  At times I fear I was too late. 

Now, I understand everyone is not going to live where they want to live.  But I also grew up with the mentality of seniority.  You don’t take grandpa’s chair because he will beat you with his cane.  Or you know, he’s old and that’s the only chair that doesn’t hurt this back, but whatever.  The point is: you don’t take a western shore dorm if you’re a rising junior.  You do not deserve it.  I don’t care if you have enough class credits to make you a rising senior; you’ve still only been here two years.  Ergo, I have seniority.  I will smite you with my mighty fists of justice.  Or my Ecology in the Chesapeake Bay bio book.  Which by the way I did not open once this semester. 

Room draw is like walking into a den of lions.  You walk in thinking you’re a lion too but it turns out that you’re an antelope.  A soon to be very dead antelope.  And if you still don’t understand my analogy think of it this way: You’re Mufasa and room draw is Scar.  Oops, still stuck on the lion scenario.  My apologies if the Lion King reference made some repressed memories resurface.  It’s ok to cry, I still do.

One of the worst parts of room draw is having to watch the big red X cross out where you had planned to live.  But it’s still ok, you have plan two!  Only to watch plan two get the big red X.  Why’s everything gotta be red with you people?  Does my F on that math test really have to be written in red and then circled multiple times?  I’m kidding about having taken a math…and the F.  But wait, you still have plan three!  No, that’s gone.

It’s ok.  Just pitch a tent between Chester and Sass.  Don’t like camping for long periods of time?  That’s ok, there’s always Reid.  That gone too?  Well shit, back to Minta with you.  I’m just thankful that’s the last time I will ever have to endure that crap, and my apologies to those of you who still have some time left here.  Here’s one more analogy before you go: It’s like voluntarily boarding the Titanic even though you know it’s going to hit an iceberg and sink.  Had to.

Freshman: The Punching Bag

Before I start this let’s all say this out loud, “I (state your name), at one point in my life have (possibly) been a college freshman.”  There, now you don’t have to lie to yourself and pretend you skipped that step in your pursuit of a higher education.  Because you didn’t.  You were just as awkward as everyone else. 

So, taking from my experience of being a freshman - and the last two years I spent observing them - I’m going to make a list on how to spot the telltale signs of being the fresh meat.  Because that’s what they are: dinner for the amusement of their older and wiser peers.  And I mean wiser in the sense that we know how many beers we can drink before we vomit in that poor shrubbery I mentioned last time.  (I do not endorse drinking beers until you vomit)

You’re a freshman; you’re not fooling anyone:

If you see a pack, then it’s a group of freshman.  And I’m not talking three to four people; I’m talking nine to ten.  Why are all of these people necessary?  Most likely they had some awkward encounter during those horrible peer mentor activities and now they’re convinced they’re bonded forever.  This is false.  I don’t remember anyone I had to hug that day, and I know the number was around thirteen.  In fact, within the pack that I clung to for the first two weeks, I hated most of them.  Freshman are like leeches, they don’t go away until your burn them off.

If you can see a lanyard on or near any part of their body, it’s a freshman.  Don’t let the backwards lanyard fool you, it’s most likely a jock or a bro trying to pass for “cool” but failing miserably.

If you see a tray, it’s a freshman.  That or a laxer who needs all that space for his three plates and four cups of PowerAde (Note this is in violation of dining hall rule #6).  But if you notice those things absent from said tray, your first assumption was correct.  You have indeed spotted another freshman.

When you’re at a party and you see a bunch of people you don’t know, said party has been invaded and you should leave as soon as possible.  Freshmen are loud and obnoxious, and lets face it, inconsiderate.  If you made a bucket of jungle juice, consider it gone.

If you’re at a party and you can spot more than three girls crying, they’re all freshman.  There’s just something about a frat party that makes ‘em cry. 

Are they walking across a Wash Ave?  Congratulations, you’ve spotted another one!  Or you’ve spied a really antisocial upperclassman that decided they’d rather live in the shit hole that is Minta than find three friends (actually you don’t even have to like them) and live somewhere halfway decent where you don’t have to worry about mice getting into your Captain Crunch box.  Bastards got mine every time. 

The new Mac Books.  Now, I’m not hatin’ on new Macs, (‘cause they’re super pretty) but if you have one you’re basically a walking billboard shouting, “HEY I’M NEW, LOOK HOW SHINY MY KEYS ARE.”  My white Mac book circa 2008 has seen much better days.  My “enter” key is disgusting and I have so many dents that I’m sure one more could be the end of my baby.  Which would suck ‘cause I still need it to pull out one more year and 35 pages of death that will be my very shitty thesis.

They’re a freshman if they disobey every one of the rules I previously gave in regards to the dining hall. 

Sadly, you will not be able to implement these trusty techniques for some months to come.  But it’s something I definitely I look forward to during the summer.  I dream about it when I’m shoveling out popcorn to ungrateful pimply teenagers who will one day suffer through their freshman year.  The thought is so much more satisfying than thinking they’ll never even graduate high school.  I want them to graduate, because they leave thinking they’re the top of the food chain, and then come to the realization that they’re once again the bottom on the totem pole.  Suck it, losers. 

Unofficial Dining Hall Rules

In elementary school we are conditioned to do everything in lines.  You walk to class, lunch, music, and gym, anywhere you have to be you go in a straight file.  Goody two shoes at the front, soon to be delinquents in the back, and the undecided in the middle.  So why is it that once we get to college we forget the simple order of things?  If you think about it, it should be engrained into our minds like the Pavlov condition was to those dogs. 

Forgetting to and no longer implementing the use of lines has turned the WAC dining hall into a mosh pit of discourse and annoyance.  Well, the lack of lines is not entirely the reason; people still make them when getting food.  But everyone is too scared of getting close and maybe accidentally touching someone that it forms an impossible barrier that prevents me from getting to the fricken cereal.  So in order to help everyone be less douchey I’ve made a list of things that people should do to make the dining hall a more pleasant experience for everyone.

Rules of proper dining hall etiquette

1. When marching up the steps be sure to have your card at the ready.  No one likes the asshole that makes everyone wait while they look around in their Vera Bradley or sports bag for a card that should already have swiped through.  I have twenty minutes to eat and I don’t want to spend ten of that smelling your sweaty gym bag because you couldn’t find a white plastic card.
2. MAKE ACTUAL LINES.  And while in these lines actually FACE FORWARD.  Is it really that important to discuss how much time you spent vomiting the night before?  I can tell you I don’t want to hear it.  I also don’t want to wait another five minutes before you realize the line has moved and you’re still standing there demonstrating how you pray to the porcelain Gods.  Or more likely a poor unsuspecting shrub.  
3. Do not just stand still.  Think of the dining hall floor as oncoming traffic.  You wouldn’t just stand in the crosswalk as the cars went by, that gets you dead.  So don’t just stand there with four other people talking about how awesome that sorority party was the night before.  Because it probably wasn’t that awesome.  Most likely you had beer spilled on you at some point and your dress probably ripped in an inappropriate place but you were too drunk to realize and now you’re “That Girl.”
4. A continuation of number 3.  Don’t stand in front of the silverware.  No matter how long you stand there, the forks aren’t just going to reappear.  Move on.  I need a spoon and spoons are always there, as are knifes.  (Because who really cuts there food at this age, its like we’ve reverted to our Neanderthal state). 
5. When getting food, annunciate.  Bro number 1 behind you is talking about playing beer pong and bro number 2 is probably laughing too loud to show off to bro number 3 who is probably wondering if his professor is going to notice that he cheated off bro number 4 on that bio test that a five year old could pass.  And as always after getting food, say thank you. 
6. Do not take a bunch of cups.  You are one person, you get one cup.  If your friend(s) are too lazy to get up, they don’t get one.  Also unacceptable: taking a whole stack of them.  Do that many people like you that you can justify taking the last stack?  I’m inclined to think not.
7. As a subcategory you may take more than one cup when: it is for a small child, it   is for a visiting relative.
8. If the dining hall is between the hours of 12-1 it’s going to be very busy and there won’t be a lot of places to sit.  So move your bag off the seat next to you.  You’re not going to get cooties if you have to sit next to someone else, but you will be seen as a jerk if you don’t.  The floor isn’t gong to swallow your Patagonia (fratabronia) backpack; it’ll be there when you’re ready to leave.
9. Leaving the dining hall: There are no rules.  Lets face it, putting your plate on that conveyor belt and getting out of there is comparable to escaping the trenches.  There really is no safe way to do it.  There’s people coming at you left and right and with no clear exit in sight, I’m surprised more people don’t just sit there, curl into the fetal position and wait for their mom to find them.  So my advice: Every person for themselves.  Though if you could avoid spilling something on someone else, much obliged.
10. When it is mozzarella day, all of the above rules are completely negated.  Unless it is rule number 6.  The cup rule does not change.

Obligatory first post

This blog is designed to be a weekly (maybe) commentary on the goings on at WAC.  It in no way represents the college as a whole.  If you're easily offended you probably shouldn't read this.

I write in run on sentences and sometimes completely disregard grammar.  So if you're a stickler for the rules, this isn't the place for you.