It's the Gooseman, coming to you all from the mild comforts of my dorm room, what is known as a 'Curtis Box' here at Colgate. Of course, these mild comforts are being violated, else I would not sign on to bitch and moan about it.
Now, the way I see it, my room is my sanctuary. It's the place I go when I'm trying to detach myself from the rest of the world. I don't care if I want this because of work, because of sleepiness, or because I'm just too fucking stoned. The point is, I'm in my room, and I don't want other people (Vin, my roommate, being the obvious exception) just barging in like they own the place. They don't own it, we own it. But now, our sanctuary has been violated by an evil being, a monster from California. He just comes in, and spends all his time here.
It started simply. He came in here and watched late-night dating shows while I was trying to work or sleep, topping it off by ordering spicy chicken subs from the local pizzaria for delivery. While this may have been tolerable by itself, this kid continues by planning a party in our room. So here I am, the day after the party. The entire room has been rearranged, simply for this kid's convenience. My wardrobe door is now missing, since it was used last night as a beirut table. And then this kid starts telling us we should move everything in our room to create more space. We have plenty of space as it is, but it doesn't seem to be enough for him. While he didn't get his way on this, he did continue showing his dominance in our room by telling us we should move the table for weekdays, so he can do his homework. Now, I don't know how things are going for him wherever he sleeps, but this kid needs to realize that he doesn't fucking live here. The minute he tries to move his bed in here, I'm going to make it very uncomfortable for him by shoving my size 12 shoes up into his colon.
People need to learn their place. The fact that this kid thinks he lives here shows that he really doesn't know shit about what other people around him are thinking. This is further accentuated by the way he thinks of girls around him. This is a kid who flips through the freshman facebook, looking for girls who are 'hitable'. Not only that, he believes that any contact with a girl should be interpreted as her coming on to him. Then he's too much of a chickenshit bastard to stand up for himself, and go and talk to these girls. He needs my roommate to set shit up for him, like movie dates in our fucking room. This is bullshit, I need to study. It is imperative I do well this semester, and this fucker isn't helping me.
I probably would be a bit more friendly about this if it wasn't for this fact: If I do well, the girl I love is coming with my family to wherever we're going this spring break. There is no way I'm allowing this to pass me by. So there are only two possible solutions to this problem. First, I could kill the Californian. Second, I could kill myself. I must admit, both sound quite tempting right now. But I'm more likely to choose option number one, not because I am not compelled towards suicide, but because I'm not passing up the chance of going with Jenn to Bermuda. That would be the sweetest thing ever. I love this girl more than I hate myself, so there's no way I'm allowing this situation to have any other outcome. Now, I must draw up a strategy. I could summon forth the unending strength of the number of beasts I command, if I wasn't sure that they're just the hallucinatory products of a speed venture. Of course, the same may be true for the Californian. It seems odd that I'm the only one who recognizes him as a monster. So, is he really a monster? Probably not. But, hey, it got the column finished for me.
Until next time,
Goose
©2004 by Goose
