I suppose it is high time I address a couple of the momentous changes my life has undergone since the beginning of the year 2004. I would be content in not discussing these things, but it seems others with a vested interest in me want to know. Furthermore, it also appears that these people (who will remain nameless) are too busy with their own schedules to ask me these questions personally. Instead, they go through the vast network of people I know, playing an intricate game of Grapevine to find out news of my exploits in Athens. I understand their problem; since these changes (which I will get to, I promise), my free time has receded to the edges of the day. Before class in the morning and after work in… well, the morning– but the wee hours of it– are the only times I am liberated from the fetters of responsibility. Unfortunately, even these moments are cast in the grey gloom of pending responsibilities. I suppose this is to be expected, though. I’m twenty-one, and time continues to move forward. My days of carefree (or careless, as the case more often was) youth are behind me.
People have been asking me “how is UGA? How do you like Athens? How is your apartment?” My answer to all three questions?
“Gravy. And not that packet gravy. This is the real McCoy; nice, thick gravy. The kind kings would drink with their meals of turkey legs and fatback.”
But seriously, folks.
My answer to the first question: it’s too soon to tell. I enjoy my classes, but until I master the concepts of the subjunctive mood of Latin verbs, the subtle nuances between oral tradition and oral literature, the varied and sedimented layers of Keats’ “Ode to a Nightingale,” the meaning of folklore, and the structure of starches, I really do not know.
Unsurprisingly, I do, however, have a few complaints about UGA thus far:
Textbook Prices.
A perennial complaint of students is the ungodly amount of money they have to spend for college. As if the price of tuition weren’t enough, the cost of textbooks would make even those cookie-cutter kids blush. Fortunately, two of my classes are not using an official textbooks, so I was able to spend about $350 on my books. In semesters past, I have spent up to $500 on books.
Cell phones.
They’re everywhere. I realize that living in Atlanta (the cell phone capital of North America– hello, brain tumors!) I am going to see the occasional cell phone user. I can deal with that. I can’t deal with every kid walking down the street either talking on a cell phone or typing a text message to the girl whose number he got last night. Part of me wants to walk by each kid on a cellular phone, and slap the stupid thing out of his hand– preferably in front of one of the race-buses whipping around the tight esses and elbows of the UGA campus. This is the same part of me that wants to trip kids running down the sidewalk just to see how far they would skid. Let’s call this part of me the “Mister Sadistic.” You may see Mr. S in the future– most likely on your evening news.
The North Face attire.
I just did a quick once-over on the North Face’s website. Most of these “high-performance weatherproof fleece shells” are over $100. Most the moon jackets jerk-offs wear around these parts are at least $250. I used to think it was envy that inspired my distaste for sporters of NF gear, but now I realize NF jackets are another part of the uniform for those cookie-cutter kids. These are the same kids that wear clothes from the expensive mall stores, get their haircuts in salons, and whose parents bought them a new SUV for their 16th birthday and another new SUV for their high school graduation. $250 is just about the aggregate sum of my entire wardrobe. I suppose everyone spends their money differently. These kids may be wearing an outfit that cost them $300, but I have a CD collection worth about $6,000 (or so). To each his own, as the saying goes.
Various kids in my Latin class.
the girl in front of me
- First, she wears a North Face coat. Second, I think her cat uses it as a bed, and she’s using it as a pillow and a towel. In any event, the thing is coated in animal and human hair. It’s disgusting.
the guy to my right
- We’ve had two weeks of class, and every day it’s the same outfit: green pants from REI, leather coat, Birkenstocks. Either someone stole his clothes, or he’s practicing for homelessness. Either way, CHANGE YOUR FUCKING PANTS ALREADY.
the girl to my left
- I think she thinks she’s cute. I don’t know. She’s already missed three days of class, and we haven’t even had the first test yet.
that guy in the back
- I’m not sure, but I think this kid only showers for special occasions, and class on Thursday apparently does not constitute a special occasion. This kid is the closest thing to the Pig Pen character from the Peanuts comic strip I’ve ever seen. He had mud on his face, for Christ’s sake.
Apartment-related Woes.
I love my new apartment. The silence of solitude has always been something I’ve adored, and now I get it all the time. People ask if I’m lonely living here by myself, but honestly, I am not. Between classes and work, I don’t have time to feel lonely. That being said, my apartment is located less than a mile from the radio tower for WUOG, the college radio station. Due to this, my very plush computer speakers (Altec-Lansing 641’s) play whatever I have on Winamp (currently it’s the new Dizzee Rascal album) along with whatever Jennifer (or whichever amateur disc jockey they have spinning discs) at the WUOG station is playing (currently it’s some type of jazz noise). At first, I thought I was going crazy. A couple days later, I figured out the issue, but I haven’t been able to resolve it. I called Altec-Lansing, and the first time I called I was informed that their customer service hours were Monday-Friday 9 am – 11 pm, Eastern. I was calling on a Monday evening at 7 PM). I called back the next day, and Richard (most likely a fake name– the guy sounded like he was from Columbia) suggested that I get shielded stereo wires. As such, I went to the Radio Shack and procured the wires, only to find that they did absolutely nothing to alleviate the radio interference. Excepting moving my system to another apartment, I believe my only options at this point are to completely rewire the speakers or build little insulated hovels for the four speakers. Either way, it is going to be a huge pain in my ass.
Speaking of pains in my ass, my Internet connection is currently being one as well. The router Bret provided me is not working very well, so my connection continues to get dropped, resulting in poor download and upload speeds. Yesterday, I went to Best Buy to get a switch, and that did nothing. In fact, it made things worse. I could only get one computer connected at a time. Bret’s coming to the apartment this weekend, so hopefully the two of us can get things up and running strong.
Being the Nomenclator, I have also felt it necessary to christen my new living space with a unique moniker. Some of my past dwellings have included the Soul Kitchen (the dorm at McWhorter), the Green Room (my room at Bo and Leslie’s house), the G-Spot (heh, the house in Milledgeville), and the Closet (the little cement cell at the Heads’). So far, I haven’t found the most appropriate name for my new digs. Here are a few of the names I’ve been considering:
Copernicus…the Apartment
Beowulf’s Meadhall
Lethe
Corsiva Fields
Shadow…the Apartment
Yeah, so I really need to think harder about this. Those names fucking suck.
FEMALE PLUMBER’S ASS.
I like girls in low-rise pants as much as the next guy. There’s nothing like a pair of pants that just barely covers a girl’s aitchbone to make sure you notice it. Unfortunately, certain girls have picked up on this trend who should not have. These are the girls who, try as they might, simply cannot lose the weight, but still love the style of their featherweight friends. These overfed fashionistas wear the same clothes their skinnier counterparts do, and inevitably they end up showing a little bit more flesh than they probably would like and more than I would like to see. I’ll be meandering across the open expanse of the Student Learning Center and BAM! A wide ass with a dark fault line in the middle will smack me in the side of the face. Or I’ll be sitting in class, and I’ll happen to glance down, only to see a dark, shadowy river of ass-crack flowing out of some chunky girl’s pants. Unfortunately, I really have no spine when it comes to speaking my mind, so I don’t say anything to save these girls from further embarrassment and my eyes from further etiolation. If Mr. S would ever show a little backbone and pipe up with something like…
“Hey Lardo! Stop wearing thongs! Start wearing pants that fit!”
“You know, they make shirts in sizes larger than medium. Perhaps you should check them out.”
“DEAR SWEET JESUS, MY EYES!”
“Smocks aren’t just for beatniks anymore.”
“Despite what Joan Rivers says, muu-muus are chic this winter.”
“Stomach-bypass surgery is getting more affordable. Mom’s health insurance may even cover it– unlike those hip-huggers you’re wearing.”
“Your ass is hairier than mine. I wouldn’t know this disturbing information if you would FUCKING WEAR PANTS THAT FIT. I WILL PAY FOR BIGGER PANTS. LET’S GO TO SEARS RIGHT NOW.”
I am sure I could think of other things to kvetch about, but my biggest complaint about UGA…
LITTLE BITCHES WHO LIKE TO BITCH ABOUT EVERY MINUTIAE OF THEIR LIFE THAT ISN’T GOING AS THEY HAD PLANNED.
Seriously, I don’t give a shit that you couldn’t find a parking space in the Classics lot. I really don’t care that you have to walk an extra 500 yards from your car to your class, just because you couldn’t get your regular space. Fucking get over it. The exercise will do you some good. Your ass is on Mapquest; did you know that? YOUR BIG, FAT ASS! Fucking shut up about your work load already. Try working 35 hours a week on top of 16 hours of school. Then, add a pinch of time for sleep, and thne come talk to me about work loads. Honestly, people. Every person has it tough. The clouds aren’t just hanging over your miserable little life. Really, he didn’t call? Maybe it is because he was FUCKING YOUR ROOMMATE, you little slutty-ass slut. Who fucking cares abou-
Hmm…it looks like Mr. S decided to make an appearance in this post– interesting. Anyway, that’s how life at UGA is. I’m very busy, but if anyone wants to come for a visit, I’ll be more than happy to have you.
Bring beer!
“Clinky? Yes, yes– clinky.”
–Michael