Nnsst, Nnsst, Nnsst, Nnsst, Sand Storm.

5 Feb

I don’t know what the deal is with the authority in the Philips Hall ITC, but they REALLY don’t want you to eat or drink in here. Upon entering the facility, you are forewarned with a large sign that says in capital letters, “ABSOLUTELY NO FOOD OR DRINK IN THE LANGUAGE & MEDIA CENTER.” In case you are functionally illiterate, there are icons of burgers and bottles to help the non-English speaking population that overtakes the U of I. Then, at every single individual computer station, there is an obnoxiously yellow 9×6 inch reminder that says, “PLEASE:” then a picture of a sandwich and a bottled beverage with strike throughs across them, no words (since a good 90% of the people in here are foreigners, specifically Asians to whom which English means as much as ancient Egyptian heiroglyphics mean to toddlers), and then “Thanks. The LMC Management.”

Really? Are we still in first grade, in grave danger of spilling blood red Kool-Aid on ourselves and surroundings? After the age of 18, I believe our fine motor skills are tuned enough to handle food and beverage around “big people” toys.

In no other ITC do they restrict food or drink. I could have a smorgasbord of Indian food complete with beverages that stain and sticky sauces in the IMU computer lab if I so wished, and probably a 40 of Old English, and nobody would stop me or even glance oddly in my direction. But four buildings away in Philips Hall, even a dainty granola bar is prohibited. And here I sit, chomping away on a turkey and tomato sandwich, just three computers away from the ITC “monitor.” I’m not afraid. What will I get, a detention?

I’ve never been one to follow guidelines.

I am more than content that the mountains of snow and glacier-like ice that recently paved the streets and sidewalks of Iowa City have melted away, causing the rivers to flood and sink parking lots and picnic tables. However, my glee was dampened when I realized a new consequential threat to my life, and more specifically, my vision: sandstorms.

The thousands of tons of sand that the city geniusly dumped all over the 52242 in “efforts” to decrease the problematic snow and ice is now whipping into my eyes in whirlwinds as I walk to and fro on campus. I am surely going to be blind by the end of the month, my corneas scratched like an old CD from the harsh particles of sand inhabiting my eyes. One problem after another, always.

Yesterday was a grand day. I didn’t have class until 3:30, which is always nice. Then I had class again at 5:30 which I skipped to donate plasma instead. Of course when I say “donate” I mean “sell.” Cash over education, naturally. At least I’ve got my priorities straight.

This week has begun what I like to refer to as “work out boot camp,” as I have slowly evolved into a beluga whale since Christmas break. Therefore, I will be living at the gym day in and day out. You might find me napping on a cot in the free weights room at any given time. Stop on by, say hello. Don’t be shy.

Time to…..attend class. Simply attend, not participate or pay attention obviously. I choose my words wisely.

“My sister’s been through a lot!”
“–Of dick!”


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