The inventor of dormitories . . . let's find him, make him pay for the
travesties he's visited on America's youth, and force him to listen to
Matchbox 20. Can't you see him designing these hellish stacks of humanity
many years ago? From the sidewalk he raised his hands triumphantly and said,
"It shall be like the projects with less violence and more marijuana!" He
then took lumber and Elmer's Paste, as it is often called, to create these
pet sized carrier rooms that we live in. You wanna know why people from the
projects hardly ever go to college? It's because they don't want to leave
their lush surroundings.
The actual term dormitory is of course derived
from the Latin term for sleep, which is appropriate because that is all you
have space to do. You have to do it standing up in the bathroom sink but it
can be done. The luckier students have space to scratch their asses but the
windows have to be open and their roommates have to be gone for the weekend.
When you go home the closets even feel like a gymnasium, and you can romp
around in the bathroom like a horny antelope. I can't imagine the kids who
brought everything they own to the dorm. I brought like a condom and a sock.
Next semester I hope to have a towel and the other sock. I also need a new
Forget having space to sleep. Who sleeps anyway? Nobody on my
campus. I think it's a rule. This one kid tried but no one knows what
happened to him. Let's just say his floor mates never saw him awake again.
I feel like I'm a member of the national insomnia coalition. Our agenda
involves a lot of Frappacino and staring at the test pattern on tv. It's
like this strange pseudo vampire lifestyle. Did you know that if you stay up
late enough they play the Tonight Show over again and it still isn't funny?
No sleep really screws with your eating habits too. Every night at 2 in the
morning you get as hungry as a Bosnian and you have to go to the vending
machine to watch the one bagel spin in the carousel of salmonella. People
have White Zombie playing until 5 AM, which to me really encompasses my mood
at 5 AM. I could be listening to Kenny G and it would seem hardcore at 5 in
the morning. It doesn't matter because you still can't get an open clothes
drier minutes before sunrise. There's like this one chick who's always
tying up an entire drier with like one pair of panties. I let it slide
because it gives me an opportunity to watch hypnotically tumbling panties.
The worst is when she turns out to be morbidly obese and you have to vomit
in your laundry basket. Not that the dryers work anyway. I could fart on my
laundry and get it drier than the converted toaster ovens that the
university supplies.. Dry jeans? Forget about it. I had to convert mine to
a deep-sea wet suit.
So what if you want to leave the dorm? Get ready for a
chore. You'll need keys, ID, bag, books, a map, an umbrella, sun glasses,
insulin, a snake bite kit, mace, a pack mule, and an Algonquin Indian
translator (Miami students you know what that's all about). Then you have to
go talking through the building kissing the asses of all the dweebs you live
with and holding the door for anyone in the same county. What's with the
door holding policy? Like opening a door requires a spotter. If you've got
arms, a coordinated foot, or useful nub, open your own damn door. No matter
where you go you have to use these gerbil-on-a-wheel elevators. I could
climb up the side of the building with a corpse tied to my johnson in less
time than it takes for the door to close. Then you have
to freaking march for miles from your dorm which is conveniently placed on
the freaking opposite side of the campus from any building that is freaking
People on roller blades I accept, people on bikes I
have urges to clothesline but tolerate, but people on skateboards have a
value just below medically retarded nazis. It must be explained to them that
skateboards were cool when we were 11 and even then they weren't that cool.
Where are you headed? Probably to get something to eat at the dining hall.
The only dish they haven't screwed up is Lucky Charms. I think the
university supplies them with a blender and unlimited horse meat mixed with
some retired circus animals. The key to making the menu fresh and exciting
is the food coloring. The charming and buck-toothed lunch ladies who have
more facial hair than your father ever will proudly announce, "Yesterday we
had chicken nuggets and today we present to you blue chicken chunks that are
totally unrelated to the nugget dish we served you just yesterday. We are
serious, they have nothing to do with each other. I stake my hair net on it.
You can have extra blue in yours.." And the ladies (who really seem to love
living in the exciting scooping career) refuse to serve more than what fits
on a toothpick. You can't just ask for a large portion, you have to ask for
"more than the offensive line could consume this semester." Then you get a
second blue nugget. Remember how excited the potato bar got you the first
week? Now the potato bar makes you homicidal. (What are bacon flavored bits
Then you get to come home to your room. Mine is called a
suite,which is a pretty cruel manipulation of the English language. I get
to spend time with the closet case that the boarding office apparently found
compatible with me. He's like Chewbacca's considerably less attractive
strange midget cousin. A wookie also has better control of the English
language. My roommate is another rant all together. Most people get one of
two kinds of roommates, the one who sharpens knives while he watches you
sleep (mine), and the one who asks you what it's like to go outside (also
My suite mates next door live an intensely Rastafarian lifestyle.
In an attempt to put Cheech and Chong to shame, their bong is a centerpiece
of the room that they clean with wadded textbook pages. They smoke to Bob
Marley at 5 AM on Wednesday nights which is a little too hardcore but you
have to love their dedication to the sport. End your dorm day by hopping
in the shower. It's as big as a tupperware container. It has 3 temperatures,
freaking hot, really freaking hot, and nuclear. Whenever somebody flushes a
toilet on the campus the temperature goes to skin removal levels and I go
blind for a few minutes. I swear it is connected to every toilet. My brother
flushed the toilet at home last week and I called him to tell him to be a
little more considerate. The bathroom is as clean as any fast food
restaurant urinal cake and after the average college student pressure washes
the shitter with a bottle of Vodka; it's as clean as any bus station. I've
given up on cleaning in the bathroom and I'm disinfecting myself. A quick
spray down with Lysol Direct and my body is fresh and repellent to several
bacteria. Bottom line. Turn up the music and try to get high off the fumes
coming from under the bathroom door because they never share. The "best days
of your life" will be over soon.