Tuesday, April 22, 2003

Professor Poopansuch leaned back into his leather chair and sighed contentedly. He had just returned from class and, if he did say so himself, had delivered a stunning lecture. Not once but twice did he notice two co-eds gaze coyly at him from the third row. And was that really so hard to fathom? He did, after all, hold his collegiate audience spellbound for a precious eighty minutes every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, dispensing gems of knowledge in every breath.

And his hair! He chuckled softly as he ran his fingers through his field of pomade, all the while admiring himself in a conveniently placed full-body mirror. That exact same motion–sweeping his digits jauntily through his hair–no doubt impressed his students and made him seem youthful.

“It’s a very…devil-may-hair gesture, as it were,” he exclaimed to himself. He made sure to utter his witticism loud enough so that his colleague across the hall could catch it. He also hoped that some students would hear it wafting through the hallway as he held office hours. Off came his spectacles, and he chewed furiously on an earpiece–such activity indicated thoughtful anxiety, naturally.

Minutes passed, however, and alas, no students dropped by.

“My dear, dear students!” the Professor muttered to himself. “So very contemplative, yet so very shy. They’re probably pondering the great thoughts I planted into them earlier today.”

He whipped off his spectacles once again, winked at the grinning specimen in the mirror, then rose from his chair and paced around the room with furrowed brow and pursed lips. The clutter in his office demanded rearrangement, so he set about opening books, closing others, taking notes from bygone lectures and wrinkling them before strewing them about the floor.

“Much better,” he sighed.

It was an hour shy of dinnertime, and the Professor planned on dining at Chez Shanghai–a new restaurant promising a Sino-Franco fusion of food–for two reasons: he wanted to sample the cuisine, to be sure, and the restaurant was also very popular with the student body. Ergo, he reasoned, he could “hang” and “keep it fresh” with his knowledge receptacles.

“Ah, fostering the ol’ community. Or communititty,” he chortled to himself.

He fetched his tweed jacket and wrapped it imperiously around himself, collected his wallet and his keys, and stepped out into the fading sunlight and the crisp autumn evening.

Monday, April 21, 2003

I would like to unveil to you tonight, gentle reader, my special emoticon. It’s a little thing I call the Middle Finger Emoticon. Use it well and use it often.

Single Deuce: _!_

Double Deuce: _!_ _!_

Just like the real thing, don’t you think?

I would also like to share with you a link that my sister sent me. You may find the cartoon series here. So that’s what Dook students do in their free time. These clips make Itchy and Scratchy seem benign, let me tell you, and they are not for the faint of heart. That said, make sure to give the cartoons some time to load, dear reader, and make sure to watch them right before going to bed.

Sunday, April 20, 2003

“Were not our hearts burning within us,” the disciples asked each other, “while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?”

That verse comes from Luke 24:32b, gentle reader, and I heard it today in church. I haven’t gone in a long while, but I woke up at the ungodly hour of 7:45 AM on Easter morning to haul ass with fellow suitemates and friends down to this place. There was no bolt of lightning, nor was there divinely angelic music, but there was something familiar and welcoming in the thin, gilded pages, the music, the campy skit, and before I forget, THE BIBLE.

The good Pastor Bill Shereos set the pulpit afire and he did so, much like my mum, without any shouting. My mind didn’t wander off–a feat that simply adds to the miraculous fact that I didn’t end up at the Church of SPAC today–and I think I will return to this church come next Sunday.

And then, a few of us went to suitemate Brandon’s house for an excellent Easter celebration, one replete with good food (far tastier than the shit I had at this joint yesterday), pleasant people, and an overarching feeling of verve. This simple amalgam of bodies, friendly parents, sharp decor, and a Subzero fridge, all framed against the same melancholy sky from yesterday, really rounded out a worthy day.