Again, I find myself hanging out among the bookworms and broken-English speaking Asians in the ITC of my home and safe house Mayflower Hall. P.S. statistics show that 4 out of 7 people in this room right now are wearing these glasses, which supports my bookworm/non-English speaking Asian stereotype:
Anyway, this is the only place I can keep myself focused on la tarea (“homework”), I’ve come to discover. It’s a nice place to be aside from the wretched shrill noise that is constantly streaming from the air conditioner, which, on a side note, is directly above me no matter where I sit and is currently producing ice and freezing my extremities off. Speaking of the unforgiving cold, this morning was ungodly brisk. It was cold enough to kill a man outside. The wind felt like a million knives and was cutting through my torso unmercifully like Kehly in a lunch line. Honestly, I was afraid I was going to lose my identity due to my facial features either a) being frozen off completely, or 2) being so badly frost-bitten that I appeared Afro’ American or six months premature. Neither option sounded satisfying at 8:00 a.m. central daylight time.
Anyone who considers themself competent or American is dare I say “more than familiar with” the television program Home Improvement. I was watching it last night (‘this morning’) at 4 a.m. con mi amiga Amy “I HIT KEY POINTS” Cozad por que I suffer from insomnia and she happened to be awake with me. This is when the following thought occurred to me: At what point were the producers like, “Okay, we’ve got your average American family; working mom, dad’s a carpenter, generally well-rounded kids who occasionally get into mischief, and of course the neighbor whose mouth you never see.”
…You always think you’ll catch a glimpse, too, banking on the assumption that the camera man MIGHT not time it just right and you’ll get a sneak of the cess pool we call his mouth. But no, just when he turns to leave the fence for once in his life, a giant peacock flies by and we miss it.
Other things that proved to make my day entertaining included some harmless prankery at the Burge dining hall. Prankery is an imaginary word. Anyway, today while Amy, Kehly and myself were stuffing our digestive system with more grease and carbs than it could handle, we took notice of the ice cream dispenser. Amy observed that the labels for the different flavors of ice cream were simple magnets that were stuck on the machine above each spout. There was your average vanilla, Cookies ‘n’ Cream, Mint Chip, and Blackberry something or other that no person in their right mind would usually crave. Amy suggests that I go do the ol’ switcheroo on the labels so we could ruin peoples’ dessert and possibly their day, depending on how bad they wanted their particular favorite flavor.
There’s nothing better than watching an unsuspecting person fall victim to a simple kniving scheme to watch their genuinely confused faces and know that you are personally responsible for their disappointment. I just wanted to see someone who REALLY wanted cookies and cream pull the nozzle to see icky green tooth paste scented ice cream ooze out into their bowl and capture that “I woke up on Christmas morning to find zero presents under the tree” sort of disappointment. *Muahah.*
I nonchalantly meander up to the machine, pull the “glance to the right and left casually without making yourself seem out of place” number real smoothly, and then switch the mint chocolate chip with the cookies and cream. Now, it’s in my personal experience that somebody that wants cookies and cream will not only be unhappy but possibly mortified with MINT when they want a delicious oreo and vanilla ice cream combination. I stroll back to our table, and let the fun begin. We watch the first unsuspecting victim wander up to the dispenser, grab a bowl, investigate the labels, and after choosing “Cookies and Cream,” discovers that his chocolatey and doughy treat is instead a frosty green substitute. He stared at the bowl, looked at the other labels, looked back at his bowl, thoroughly investigated the spout, and then just accepted the Mean Green and sat back down. hahahaha. This happened multiple times. It was funny, but people didn’t actually act horrified or alarmed at the ice cream confusion. Instead they simply accepted that this just wasn’t their day. People in this day and age just lack motivation to reach their goals and get what they want. I blame television.