Ahh, springtime. One of my three or four favorite seasons. It's that time of year when life begins anew in nature's kingdom, when we remember what skin looks like, and when the Canadian geese fly hundreds of miles North, only to crap all over our baseball field. Nevertheless, it is the perfect time of year to ramble on about the following unrelated topics that aren't substantial enough to warrant their own columns.
- The Tufts campus is blessed to have century-old trees that signify the storied history of the University. Amidst some of the more impressive flora that can be found on campus, however, are some really depressing attempts at plant life. I'm talking about those skinny trees that bloom white flowers that can be found most notably guarding the front door of Carmichael Dining Hall.
What about these scrawny trees is so unsettling? To be blunt, their white flowers smell like man-juice. That's right - those pearly blossoms discharge the unmistakable scent of beef gravy 24 hours a day during the springtime. As a result, students are faced with the following dilemma:
"Should I satisfy my biological need for nourishment via foodstuffs today at Carmichael Dining Hall, or should I avoid the noxious cloud of duck butter altogether?"
Clearly, the correct choice during this time of year is to avoid the stench of creamed pork and to starve oneself. How did these trees make their way onto campus? I imagine it went something like this:
Tufts Landscaper: "I am looking to outfit my campus with trees."
Tree Salesman: "Great, take a look at this model. It is fast growing, requires little sunlight, blooms in late April, and emits the overpowering stench of axle grease that repels students within a 20-foot radius."
Tufts Landscaper: "Excellent! I'll take 200 and plant them in front of every doorway on campus. Boy, do I love the smell of population paste!"
To me, this exchange marked one of the sadder moments in the history of this storied university. A national study done by myself indicates that Tufts is leading the nation in smelling like man-mayo. My next project, after I finish this finger-painting, is to establish the Anti-JizzTree Society at Tufts. All are welcome.
- Never lock your housemate's cat inside of your room while you are away. If you do, don't let the cat crap on your bed and piss all over your pillow. If it does, don't make the same mistake I did and not kill the cat.
- While using an extra room key to get into your housemate's room while he is away, don't drop it out of reach into his trashcan. If you do, don't make the same mistake I did and drop it into a trashcan that contains a pair of underwear in which he negotiated a chocolate hostage while training for the Boston Marathon.
- If there's one thing that I just won't tolerate, it's lactose.
- There has been no greater crime in the 21st century than when those selfish bastards at PBS changed the theme song to "Reading Rainbow."
- I want life to be more like a video game. When I trip and scrape my knee on the way to class, reducing my life meter, I want at least three seconds of invulnerability, during which I blink rapidly. When class period ends and more people walk the campus than Tufts can handle, I want the school to experience slow down.
I want every day to have a password - that way, if you fail a test, crash your car, or fall down a hole, you can enter that day's password and begin the day over again, right where you left off.
I want to walk into the homes of people that I do not know, open their treasure chests, and break their pots while they stand and watch me do it. I want to collect an invincibility star and then touch people I don't like, causing their instant death.
I want floating coins to be littered across campus - then I could collect 100 of them and get my free life. Then, I would finally be able to roller-skate backwards down the Memorial Steps while wearing a blindfold. And I'm naked.
Actually, I don't think that this is such a great idea. When I'm not feeling well and have less than three hearts, I'll have to deal with that incessant beeping noise. While having theme music would be cool at first, I bet that it gets real old, real fast. I would probably spend hours every day working to increase my score, only to find out later that it carries no relevance to anything whatsoever.
Then there would be those days when I'm hungover and have just walked 20 minutes across campus and up to the third floor of Anderson at 8 a.m. to take a test I'm just not ready for, and friggin' Bowser is guarding the door. Great, that's just what I need right now: a giant fire-breathing turtle with an attitude on top of this vibrations exam. Now I'm kicking myself for missing that fireflower by Braker.
- God, I hate lactose. If that O-?-D-galactopyranosyl-(1-> 4)-D-glucopyranose thinks that it will be digested by my gastrointestinal tract, it is sadly mistaken.
- So what if I still watch "Reading Rainbow"? Mind your own business.
