Honk if you heart construction

Readers as far back as Monday will recall that I mentioned the ongoing (read: ceaseless) construction that is going on in the Ypsilanti area. Apparently they’re replacing a water line or something of the sort that the city probably wouldn’t be doing unless it absolutely had to. Certainly the quality of Ypsi water has never been compromised:



A sensible person might be thinking, If I were the city and had to tear up the roads surrounding the University, I would do it before the Fall semester starts, you know, when the traffic of Ypsi doubles (Source: Lewon).

Clearly this isn’t the city’s view, which leads many to believe the City of Ypsilanti is totally insane and unpredictable, forcing its citizens to walk around with added caution, for fear that the city itself might jump out from behind any corner, causing people to shit their pants.

This construction has caused many problems, the most significant of which is my bumpy bikeride to class. Seeking to secure Washtenaw’s reputation as the slowest means of getting anywhere, the construction workers broke the water main on Perrin--some might say deliberately--spewing water, legos and Cheetohs everywhere. My house, as you might remember from the “Just enough information to track me down and hurt me” approach I’m apparently taking, is located on Washtenaw, so all this water business has resulted in multiple notices in the mail that look like this:



First off I appreciate the three day window, I love brushing my teeth with the ass-cold water from the fridge. Some of you might be wondering, “Just how cold is ass-cold?” It’s defined as approximately between “Tit bit nipply” and “Hot.” The unfortunate part of this lack of water is that it forced me to go to class the other day without showering, which was shortly after five. Fortunately, I’m in the Computer Science program, so nobody noticed because it’s been at least twice as long since they’ve bathed.

This semester I have five classes, four of which are COSC courses. This means Pray Harrold is my life, as per usual. And to make for an especially exciting time inside, all my CS classes meet in either room 302 or 303, a phenomenon of the program I have yet to understand. The other day I strayed out a bit and peeked into 304, but someone immediately yanked my arm out of its socket, just like that god damn babysitter oh so many years ago. Before the pain sensations reached me, I caught a glimpse of what appear to be some black Lazy Boy recliners in place of the crappy wooden chairs I’m accustomed to. I’m not sure what you have to major in to get in there, but it must be hard. Maybe even…dare I say…lofty?

No, no. That’s too far.

Wait.

Lofty.

Anyway, today I was heading to my Operating System Concepts (and no, it’s not as cool as it sounds) class, and was surprised when I noticed the professor hadn’t arrived yet. It was odd because, so far, he seems like quite the punctual guy. You see, as soon as someone whose late opens the door, he runs and punches them in face. I thought nothing of the fact that he wasn’t there and read a couple stories from the Echo. When an instructor other than the one I was expecting walked in, it hit me like a ton of bricks: I was fucking starving. I needed some M&Ms (official reference count: 1) When that passed, some 40 minutes, I realized I was in the wrong class. After I made a subtle announcement to a couple people of my mistake (it takes a bit to embarrass myself, as my mom can attest to…what?), I got up and found the right room, which of course was right next door.

Ok so that was a really weak ending to the paragraph, but this is my M&M (2), and I’ll put it in a can of Coke if I want to (which is delicious by the way—all the color is stripped off and what you’re left with is this white piece of heaven, similar to cocaine). To end, I’d like to answer an email I never received:

Joe Ballentino, from Southern California’s beautiful San Fernando Valley, writes:

Dear Peanut,

Didn’t you say something about not describing all the boring details of your life and promptly shooting yourself if this was crap?

Joe,

I did, I just can’t seem to get my hands on an assault weapon anymore.
(See http://www.easternecho.com/cgi-bin/story.cgi?3461 for what I think is an amusing response to a gun nut who wrote in protesting the Echo’s stance that the Assault Weapons Ban should be renewed)

Huffy vs. The World

I'm sitting here listening to the totally awesome and slightly erotic Minibosses, with Megaman 2 totally rocking. Totally. I'm using this as the backdrop for working: that loose definition of work being posting the latest issue of the Eastern Echo to the aptly-selected www.easternecho.com, of which I am the webmaster, of which you were probably linked from.

Each issue doesn’t require a whole lot of brain activity from me, so I usually try and do two things at once--in this case it's huffing Pledge. But today I'm having difficulty, there's this incessant beeping coming from outside that is slowly, but surely, making me want to locate another down-on-his-luck hobo. Aren't you glad I specified that he's down on his luck, as if the 'hobo' label didn't already clearly indicate that? Clone me.

But anyway, the beeping. It seems there is a construction truck outside that has been in reverse for about three hours. I'm not sure where he's going, but there has to be a better way of getting there. Often times it's necessary to exaggerate to make something seem significant, but I'm not joking here. I got home from class at 1:00 p.m. (see later elaboration) and it's now around 3:00 p.m.

Interjection from rude reader: That's only two hours, clod.
Rude reaction to rude reader: Shut up.

[ Pointless update: I’m now proofreading this at 5:00 p.m, and it’s still fucking beeping. ]

Point is, not even the Minibosses' wall of sound can overpower this infernal noise. What's worse is I can't even see where it’s coming from, there’s just this awful beeping coming from some hidden part of the world. I'd look out my window to see, but that might obfuscate my excellent view of the neighbor's kitchen.

Since this isn't going anywhere other than Hell along with the rest of my ideas, I'll end with an anecdote about my ride home from class. I live on Washtenaw, so the bike ride from there to Pray Harrold takes about two minutes. I was on Forest (where Pease and Pierce are) crossing the street, when I again noticed that the roads weren't done being worked on. And let's define 'being worked on' as 'making big clouds of dust.' Since the sidewalks have been deemed (by me) unfit for bicycler riding, I tried to squeeze in between a car and what was left of the pavement. It dipped down more than I thought, and I kind of fell into it, like a moron. It really wasn't much of a scene; all that really happened was I rolled into this ditchy-area (hereon out referred to as "Ditch Time™") and had to get off my bike to get out. I quietly said damnit! to myself, silently admitting to myself that nary has there been a time that I've been out on my $60 Huffy from Toys R' Us without some kind of incident, be it like today's tiny ordeal or my pants getting caught in the chain, thereby spewing me into the pavement on campus in front of hundreds, perhaps tens of people (which did happen once...got up, brushed myself off, said I was okay, and ran towards the nearest moving car).

It was then that I heard a barrel of laughter coming from a tiny car with four frat-looking dudes. Now I admit that had I seen myself, I might of chuckled and possibly pointed it out to someone else in the car, who may or may not always be my grandmother, Estelle, who has a heart of gold let me tell you. However, the amount and length of laughter generated (some might even call it a barrel, but if you do, you’re an idiot…crap) suggested that one of three things was happening.

1: They were laughing at something else.
2: They were laughing at me because they have yet to develop a level of humor beyond seventh grade.
3: They were total douchebags.


TOTALLY SERIOUS MOMENT
What I found funny was the influence it had on me. I hadn't even felt embarrassed until I heard them laughing (which likely was at me). What gets me now is that I feel stupid for feeling stupid earlier. Obviously I don't care what those people think, and for the most part, I don't really get embarrassed. So I guess the lesson today is, just be yourself, dance like nobody's watching, and don't worry about people who are jackasses their whole life who see you being a jackass for a couple seconds.

Besides, I bet they don't have a totally awesome and hot girlfriend. Yes, I win!

Jackasses: 0, Ryan: 1.