I.M.U. stands for “Icebox Mimicking University.”

3 Feb

Hello all. What’s up?

I’ll tell you what’s NOT up: the temperature in the IMU. I am literally freezing to death. Hypothermia is on the itinerary, and I simply don’t have time for it. I was actually just forced to leave the computer lab, go into the Book Store, and purchase a sweatshirt because the cold was so unforgivable it was distracting me from my homework. I’d say things worked out though; now I have a new sweatshirt, and on top of it, there’s a chance I can save my limbs from amputation due to frost bite.
Fun fact: the above is not even my hair. Ha.

Well, since I no longer enjoy the luxury of having the ITC a hop, skip and a jump away in Mayflower, I have found a new settlement in the IMU computer lab (a.k.a. brisk Siberian glacial territory). The only downside to it is that it is located approximately 30 entire minutes from home base, and also that I gamble with my own life while I’m here due to the health-threatening, sub-zero temperatures they maintain here on a daily basis.

Another peculiarity is the company I keep while in this computer lab. There are never normal people. Yesterday I found myself seated next to who appeared to be the next Unabomber: an extremely jumpy Asian man who seemed to flinch every time I reached for my computer mouse, and sat hunched over his computer as if he were accessing a top-secret terrorist database. Today I’m sitting directly across from a morbidly obese man with prematurely graying hair and an unsightly and distracting mole on his chin. This man keeps producing obnoxious, grief-stricken sighs as if he has discovered that his wife has died, and someone keeps reminding him of it every forty seconds. He is also getting very imtimate with his computer screen, making different facial expressions as he struggles to type over his fat belly.

People.

Why is it that the Schaeffer Hall bus stop serves as the multi-racial hang out? Has anyone else noticed this? I am in the absolute minority when passing through, surrounded by a melting pot of ethnic chaos. There are more Asian subgroups at that stop than there are fat cells on Rosie O’Donnel’s body. If I were to dare walk through in the darkness of night, I would undoubtedly careen into many-an-African-American unknowingly. I’m not even going to start with the homeless folk that gather there, but you get the idea.

I’m getting shot. Send hate mail to address posted on profile page. Thank you.

I’m off to piss myself, 1) because I just downed 2 Sprites, and 2) out of fear of being assassinated after writing this note. Have mercy.

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