You know, with every week that goes by I just can't help but fall more and more in love with Dartmouth. My roommate pointed out a poster tacked up on one of the bulletin boards in Mid Mass -- and what it said, well, it just made me proud to be attending this fine institution. The level of activism that occurs on this campus to further the general good and to cater to the needs of the oppressed is just absolutely stunning -- unparalleled. Mind-blowing. This is what the poster said:
REMEMBER WHEN YOU USED TO HAVE BALLS? NO??? Come Help Overthrow Dartmouth's Vaginocracy! Meeting: August 31, 7 p.m., at the Men's Resource Center. Discussion to be led by Dean of Heterosexual Male Students Hercules Rockefeller. The Men's Resource Center is located the Phallus Memorial Auditorium. Brought to you by the concerned students of SAPOD.
Now. Isn't that nice? Doesn't it just make you proud? Doesn't it just give you that warm and fuzzy feeling inside? The brilliant use of the word "phallus" instead of "penis" to make evident the intelligence of the poster's creator? The thoughtfulness of confining the group to hetero males? Although, I think perhaps it would have been an improvement had they said "Dean of Male Students -- No Gays or Ethnic Minorities Allowed." (I guess it's hard to be perfect all the time.) Plus! Included was a tasteful picture of a man with elephantiasis of the appropriate area.
Bah.
In case the sarcasm has been lost on you, which, if you are one of my discerning readers, it would not have been, I do realize that it was a "joke." A joke of such epic proportions that I am not laughing. I wonder whether I am so much offended (God forbid that I use the word "offended" -- I imagine there will be thousands upon thousands of op-eds written saying, "I am offended that she was offended. Haha, I am so funny that I am using a word twice in a sentence.") anyway, what was I saying? Mmm. I'm not so much offended by the sentiments expressed in the poster as appalled that someone actually bothered to type up such boring and unimaginative shlock. Get a grip. And I do mean, get a grip -- it might make you feel self-validated.
Laleela. On to more important things. Like the fact that I fainted last Monday. I was dehydrated from the weekend. It's been really hot lately. Inordinately so. And I tore up four flights of stairs to my room because I had forgotten to take a pill. As I was asking my roommate to take the pill out for me and toss it in my mouth (my hands were all painty) everything got white la cheesy American movies depicting heaven and I dropped like a stone. A stoned stone.
Which certainly makes a good case for air conditioning. Air conditioning like College-owned air conditioning -- not that wack illegal air-conditioning that the guys two doors down have. You know, the kind that comes down early in the morning before it can be spotted?
This also makes a good case for my never having to live on a high -- as in height -- floor, ever again. This goes for any other '03. We're getting old. I remember my freshmen year I used to be able to stay up 'til 5 in the morning picking artichoke out of pizza boxes and chatting with people. Now? Twelve o'clock rolls around and I'm making my feeble way to bed, bitching about the cost of living and the music kids are listening to these days. We shouldn't be going without personal nurses let alone crawling up three, four flights of stairs.
Don't forget to go to that SAPOD meeting, ya hear? That vaginocracy is a bitch.
