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11:32 am | 15 January 2003 | comments, idiots, challenges

Hot shit, i have comments now, right at the bottom of the page. i also changed the picture in my profile because the other one made me look like Thora, the Toad Goddess of Giant Wooden Things, and i don't have any good shots here.


Sometimes i hate being so ridiculously fricking smart. People call me: "Is Dana there?"
"No," i say. "She left almost a year ago."
"Well, who is her replacement?"
"Dominic. He's at extension 6791."
"Great. This is Norman in the President's office. Who might i talk to about finding an outstanding Asian student?" (Dana was in charge of student government, mind you, so this is a retarded question in the first place.)
"Try Chau. The ASIAN AFFAIRS coordinator."
"Great. What i'm doing is looking for the Next Big Thing as far as our Asian students go. Whom should i talk to about that?"
"CHAU." I just told you.
"Well, i don't want to ask another student."
"She ISN'T a student. As i SAID BEFORE, she is the COORDINATOR. STAFF."
"Oh really? Great. What's her extension?"
fucking LOOK IT UP, you lazy bastard! "here. 8213."

Then they hang up, not even knowing who i am or what i do, just that if they dial x7042, some magical, peevish alto female voice will answer all their questions. What's showing in the Ass Curtain Gallery right now? Well, it's an MFA show about an imaginary artist's life. What's down in the Annex at 11:30? A panel discussion on MLK. When is Spring Orientation for Film/Video majors? Gee whillikers, it's January 24, 8:30am, motherfuckers. Why am i answering all these goddamn questions? Don't know. Don't know. Don't know.

Worse, i meet these clueless idiots (who have nevertheless worked here for twelve years or something ridiculous like that) in person and am dismissed summarily, out-of-hand, because i'm twenty-four and have an architecturally complex haircut they could never begin to fathom. It makes me want to run through the college with a bundle of sharpened sticks and plunge them into necks at random.


I was going to tell you all about the par-tay this weekend, but our friend put it best:

From: Sean
Subject: boys are boys but girls are choice
Date: Tue, 14 Jan 2003

This is an advanced warning. The fight of the century approaches. The divas known as Porkchop, Koo and Stormyclaude have challenged the boys known as S., G. and T. to a full-blown party dance-off. No judges. No rules. No time outs. Just a lot of people drinking a lot of alcohol and gettin' it on. IT'S A GOD DAMNED PARTY.

What day?
This Saturday, the 18th of January. Don't get confused. They are also having a Valentines Day party on a Saturday next month.

What time?
Yeah, I don't really know that. But I imagine it's standard party time. You know: 9, 10, 11 or whatever.

Will there be stuff for me to drink?
BYOB

Where is it?
NOTE:TOP SECRET LOCATION--email me if you want to come.

What will happen?
Like our wonderful friend, Jaccob, they have been busting their asses at Columbia College and are ready to tear it up. You have the power to make the party whatever you want. I envision some dancing. The lucky kids might get some make-out action.

What's this about a dance-off?
I pretty much made that up. But it's a good idea considering the six person dance party that started in the back of the last party and eventually sucked a bunch of people in. If it does get going, make sure you join a team. Maybe we can turn the party into a reenactment of West Side Story...then again, maybe not.

Spread the word to people not in this list.


To: Sean
From: Stormyclaude
Subject: Re: Girls rule, boys drool

S. you fool,
This is Claudia. We formally accept you boys' collective and meager challenge. In fact, if your punk asses were here right now, i'd be slapping you with a white glove (filled with rocks and dead batteries for more impact). But since you're not, please accept this letter in lieu of the slappage. Slap! Slap!

Let it be publicly known that third-floor-wide practice has commenced here on Augusta. Further information may be had by replying to myself, Porkchop, and Koo. Prepare for your loss! Start drinking *now*!

Shaking my ass already,
Stormyclaude.

Be there or be square, fools. clm.


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