MISCELLANEOUS RANTS…

MISCELLANEOUS RANTS

From Mr. Hyde: Greetings ye enlightened minions of Network.
Net: Hi.
I thought I’d write in with some pointless, but well-articulated, comments.
1. There is a global conspiracy to make sure I have less free time during the summer than during the rest of the year. It’s a fact, so don’t argue. Net: That hasn’t stopped us before.
My question is, how is this possible? At least during the other three quarters I had a few hours to sit outside and read. Now all I have time for is sleeping (no more than six hours) and 7.329 seconds I call a social life. Net: Wow. That’s fast. Viagra really does work, doesn’t it?
I don’t even have time to read, like, books. Soon I might be forced to give up sleeping and eating. Net: And once you’ve done that, you will finally understand what being a college student is all about.
Oh well. It’s cheaper that way.
2. This one has been a long time coming: What are busses supposed to do? Net: Well, given that the spelling you chose for “buss” is a Victorian-era term for kissing, we suspect that busses are meant to show affection, or perhaps transmit disease. This is only a guess. Stop at bus stops, according to something I once read. However, the University connector drivers (Hey, the bus rides are free, so I shouldn’t complain too much) are apparently not familiar with this fact of life.
Every day I arrive at a particular stop on the St. Paul campus and patiently wait for a bus (At least I used to during spring quarter; I told you this was a long time coming). One would arrive, and promptly pass me by. The driver would look at me, seemingly acknowledge my existence and not even slow down. What’s going on here?
Net: We’re not sure, but you might not want to concentrate too hard if you know what’s best for your self-esteem.
Thanks, Network. I needed to vent! Have a good summer everyone, but watch out for the squirrels. Good day.
Net: And good day to you, Mr. Hyde.

BELT BUCKLE BLUES, CONTINUED

From Buzz: To people who don’t think there are enough men in cowboy hats and belt buckles around the U, I have three words: Net: Yudof in spurs? St. Paul campus.
Net: Oh.
It’s like the netherworld over there. I went to a party there once. It was in a barn, with sawdust on the floor. Almost everyone there was in some kind of fake cowboy get-up — hats, jeans, buckles — the works.
Net: Omigod! Not hats and jeans! Whoever thought of THAT combination (gasp)???
The worst part was near the end, when the DJ played a Bon Jovi song and all the guys gathered in the center of the barn, did a high five like the cover of Pearl Jam’s “10,” and hugged and thanked each other for coming. Net: Hey. You gotta love those touchy-feely rednecks.
All to Bon Jovi music, I emphasize. Net: Guaranteed to bring out the sensitive poet in everyone.
It was one of the worst nights of my life. Net: Obviously, you’ve never been to Chiapas. Lighten up. But there were hats and belt buckles there! So, for those of you with the crave, go enjoy St. Paul. Net: And never say goodbye. You and us and our old friends, hoping it would never end. Hey — before we give love a bad name or anything, just remember — summer’s passing quickly. From Memorial Day to Labor Day. We’re halfway there. Whoa-oh — we better stop before our hair starts to tease. Hasta.