Stop it!

To fill the rest of you in on the story; Monday nights I am in an anthropology class on Indians in Wisconsin.  At first I thought that this class would be easy, my thought being, “How many Indians could really be in Wisconsin?”  I got my answer shortly after the first few weeks of class, ALL OF THEM!!!  All of my prior Indian knowledge came from Pocahontas and what I learned from the black jack tables while I was slowly funding some guys Escalade with rims larger than the table I was playing on.  When I hear the word Miami all I can think about is the Dolphins and how much I don’t want to go there during the summer months.  Not the tribe the originated in Ohio.  So knowing this you can pretty accurately assume how I’m doing in class.

So now to this asshole.  I thought that everyone was in the same boat as I was, confused and angry at life.  But this man decided to push us one step further.  This man is not a student, this man happens to be an expert on Indians in Wisconsin, one of two.  The other of course being our professor.  You sir, are a drain on our class.  If you really have the balls to argue with the professor what time periods a tribe spoke a now dead language you do not belong in this class.  Now in this mans case he wins these arguments.  Dude if you already know this stuff don’t take this class.  I understand if you need this class to graduate, in this case just don’t come to class.  There is no attendance and you already know this crap!  Thanks to you I never make an appearance in class, and even I am passing.

All I ask is that you think about my self-esteem before you flex your brain in class.

That is all.

As if the recent tuition hikes in the news weren’t bad enough, Pittsburgh will be bending college students over and screwing them adding a 1% college tuition tax to raise $16 million per year for the struggling city. You can read about the whole fiasco in detail from The Pittsburgh Tribune-Review.

Some city officials sound more like a group of 6th graders than public servants:

City Councilman (and apparently the official Asshole of Pittsburgh) Jim Motznik said, “If they (colleges) would have contributed to the City of Pittsburgh like they should have been, there would be no need for this,” he said. “With all the fees and costs college students are paying, this is minimal.” (BTW, 1% of a $30,000 tuition is $300, dick. That’s a lot of Ramen.)

Adding to the brouhaha is the fact “the state Supreme Court has determined attempts to tax institutions of higher education to be illegal.” So, basically, the city will waste taxpayer dollars trying to create a tax that will ultimately be shot down because it’s illegal.

Stay classy, Pittsburgh.

P.S. If you want to tax college students, don’t tax them directly. Just tax the booze.

What are the two most widely present characteristics of any bar? Darkness and beer, right? So it only makes sense to have parties when the power is out on (and off) campus.

Nothing much happens in Ohio so when something interesting does happen we tend to blow it way out of proportion. For example a really bad windstorm came through and we called it a hurricane.

Once the power was out it was only logical for my roommate and I to join our beers with our neighbor’s beer and celebrate this force of nature.

We had only met him once before. We had run out of sugar while baking cookies (this was in no way a common occurrence by the way) and what are neighbors for if not to let you leech off their baking materials? He opened the door sans shirt. Both his nipples were pierced.

But there we all sat, brought together by boredom and the realization that our own beer would not last us the night. Plus, he had tons of candles.

The candles, side note, could either mean

1. Creeper
2. He doesn’t bat for our team

The later it gets the more people cram into his apartment. Someone tries to make Jell-O shots before realizing that no power means no freezer. My roommate and I learned a lot that night. We learned that the nerdier the major, the more they can drink along with several other things that we wish we hadn’t learned. At the end of the night we inherited a book, The Guide to Getting it On.

We went back to our apartment and read the book by candlelight just like our forefathers. Ok, mainly we giggled at the pictures. By candlelight.

The next day there was no class since the campus had no power. The dean announced that there would be class, power or not, the following day. That night there was the most yuppie “riot” in all the history of riots. Miami is not known for its tough troublemaker students. Students at Miami wear pastel polo’s and designer sunglasses. The riot was more or less a ton of students standing on the lawn of the dean’s house complaining that they had class in the morning. The saddest part of this is that the city called in all of the neighboring cities police officers to “subdue” this “riot.”

The lessons learned in this are that you shouldn’t judge your neighbor by his piercing, if you’re going to riot go big or go home, and that nature likes it when you party.

It’s Thanksgiving break (!), and for many, it’s the first time you’ve been home since the summer. It’s also the first time since the first half of the year you’ve seen your unnecessarily chatty, estranged relatives. The difference this time isn’t that you’ll be huddled around the turkey passing stuffing and suffering tripto-comas; the difference this time is that you’re a college student. This means NO ONE is going to shut up about school. Get prepared to be repeatedly assailed with the age old question:

HOW’S SCHOOL?

Reasons I hate this question: 1. It’s strictly obligatory and nobody actually cares. 2. How exactly do you go about answering that? Um, it’s good? 3. After the third time it’s asked, I’m ready to embark on a serial gut-jabbing spree. 4. Relatives, I don’t want to talk to you.

This coming Turkey Day will be my second since enrolling in college. This being said, I know the question is coming and, this time, I’ve constructed some verbal defense mechanisms. Here are some ways to answer your relatives’ inevitable curiosity/false concern as well as some ways to dodge any follow up questions.

1. “How’s school?” “I got kicked out and it’s a really sensitive subject; thanks for bringing it up.”

2. “How’s school?” “Didn’t you get the letter I sent you? I detailed all about how school is in that letter. Ask me again if you still have questions after reading my letter.”

3. “How’s school?” “I’m sorry, I have to go to the bathroom.”

4. “How’s school?” “Well, I’ve been in school since I was about 5. Pretty curious that you waited 15 years to ask me that, isn’t it?”

5. “How’s school?” “Oh my god, did you ju– did the turkey just move? Did you see that? I swear to god, that turkey just flapped a wing. I’m going to go take a closer look!”

6. “How’s school?” (Quickly stuff multiple corn bread muffins in your mouth and shrug).

7. “How’s school?” “Good, thanks.”

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My roommate Al may have possibly discovered the single most helpful homework catalyst we’ll ever know. It is not a work ethic, nor is it a secret study locale, but a song. Specifically, “The Final Countdown.”
Now we don’t know why this is the magic work song, but ever since it was discovered Al’s used it every time as a fail safe to finish a paper with an hour to due date. But how did she stumble across this jewel of knowledge you may ask? Much like many discoveries that change the world, it was an accident. She is a big fan of playing music while doing homework and realized she’s more productive while this song has reached the almost blasphemous stage of a homework Messiah. She has played it on loop for a solid half an hour as a fight song of finishing homework. As of now, she has played it a total of 59 times (the length is 5 minutes and 9 seconds). That’s ~304 hours of sweet sweet countdown.

Now it may seem trivial or maybe not even that funny. But now treating “The Final Countdown” as the sound track to accompany the last stand against homework I dare you not to feel productive. Or that by attempting conversation you would risk having your head ripped off by a jittery overcaffeinated perfectionist. Though in reality, who isn’t amidst that techno beat?