Tuesday, October 09, 2007


At least, I may as well be.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen: I, a 20 year old SENIOR IN COLLEGE, have been grounded. I must go STRAIGHT back to my room after class and meals, so that I can think about what I did, mister!!

See, here's how it all went down:

Spirit Weeks (or, for our purpose, Spirits Week) is a time for students to really get into their school spirit. To act and dress in a way that says "I support what this college does on a day-to-day basis." Either that, or "I really don't feel like putting on a shirt and tie this week." I think they mean essentially the same thing. Either way, last Thursday was "Dress like your favorite saint day".


So, I rummaged through my closet and came up with the old brown robe, used for Halloween, and the like. Well, I threw that and a pair of sandals on, and voila! I was St. Francis of Assisi. So I go to dinner, sporting my look, and find that, for some reason, they've decided that dinner that night is...

Italian Night 2: Hooray for St. Francis!

Let's forget for a second that it was ST. ANTHONY'S feast day. Let's focus, instead, on the presence of wine at this particular dinner.

Ah, cruel fate.

I did not attempt to sneak any wine. I was, in fact, quite uninterested in the wine. I posed for a few shots with St. Francis, and I went on my way. On the way out the door, I happened upon a friend of mine. For security reasons, his name may be changed. Anyway, Frank said "Joe, I can't finish my wine. Will you do it for me?" And I, being a kind and generous friend, agreed. So I took the half-empty cup of wine, strolled outside to the front of the commons, and sat on the bench there, calmly enjoying my wine. Now, I, like most of you I would imagine, don't care to drink alone very much. So, when I saw one of my favorite proctors walking by (he didn't see me there), I called him over. We had a pleasant chat while I finished my wine, exchanged no words regarding rules, and then, we both went on our way.

Yup. A pleasant afternoon.

The next day, there's a knock on my door. "Joe, I need to talk to you for a minute."

Uhh... ok.

So I step outside, and am greeted with "So, basically, I saw you drinking at the party the other day." My response is: "Uhh.... what?"
"I saw you with alchohol."
"...Ha ha, very funny."
"Yes, it is."


At this point, my mind is trying to figure out WTF he's talking about.

"At Italian night, I saw you with wine."
Umm... yeah, I know. I called you over to talk to you. Because you didn't see me. Douchebag.

Come to find out he's already informed Wurtzy-poo WITHOUT having brought the issue up to me. At all. I explain to him that I was finishing the wine for someone else, and he says "Oh, ok, well, I'll talk to Wurtz. You probably won't get anything for it. Sorry, but I have to do my job."

Wrong again. Douchebag. Your job is to STOP ILLEGAL THINGS FROM HAPPENING, not watch them calmly, then go run and tell Mommy.

I have class. To be continued.


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