My summer was great, actually, thanks for asking.
When I wasn’t cooking chicken souvlaki, I spent a good deal of time sitting poolside at my house out on my front porch. I bought black sunglasses and wore my underpants as a bathing suit. My roommates and I actually got in there together a few times, which was like watching the seal show on the Discovery channel. Which was gross. The pool is a blue shark, he’s about four feet in diameter and when you hook a hose up to his nether-region, he shoots water out of a blowhole on his forehead. Just 20 bucks at Target for that one.
But what about you, how are you liking your first week? I know parking kind of sucks here. The best trick is to park in this one spot right in back of the Student Union. Plus,you don’t have to pay your parking tickets until the end of the semester. Oh, check out the taco place in Ellicott, Ann and I were crazy about it. While we were crazy.
On Sunday nights at midnight, I’ve been going on this bike ride with a bunch of weirdos. For a few weeks there we had 60 people coming out at a time, just to ride around. There was a three-wheeled bicycle (does that make sense? A giant tricycle, I guess) with a huge basket on the back to carry a half-keg of beer. If you play your cards right, you might make it home without breaking something and having to walk. It’s a pretty cool way to see the city, in fact I think bicycles are a great way to see just about anything. Except movies. Everybody meets at a place called the Essex Street Pub down on Richmond Ave.
Biking is pretty convenient, too—it can easily replace driving as your mode of transportation. Heading for the bar? A bike provides an easy way out of driving drunk. Kinda. Coming to school? You don’t need a bus pass to ride your bike. Plus, bike riding has become cool all of a sudden, so that means no more jocks throwing sticks in your spokes. Then again, some people are just assholes. Stop down at Rick’s Bikes on Main St.—it’s the first stop above ground on the metro rail.
I also got really into making stencils. I hadn’t thought of that before this summer, possibly because I hadn’t realized that if something is ugly, you should write on it. I think we could really make this campus start looking like home with just a little spray paint and a touch of ourselves. Just take a look at Clemens and Slee Hall from the point of view of the Student Union—nothing but a stale brick wall. Think of the possibilities! How about a giant American flag? Or a three-story high cover of the Enquirer?
Also important: no matter what your professors say, don’t buy a single book from the UB bookstore. Order your books online and you’ll probably save half your money. Their entire operation is a scam that teachers never seem to realize. You’ll find out at the end of the year that the bookstore buys your books back for a couple bucks and sells them again the next semester for, like, 15 percent off the cover price. Fuck them. Try convincing your teachers to reserve their books at Talking Leaves in the heights, or if it’s a pretty common book, try asking some real old guys who work at used bookstores. Old guys know a lot, I think.
Anyway, you might really end up hating this semester if you don’t start doing something fast. Come write for our magazine and get in with the right crowd. We’re not cliquey, mean, or cool. We’re rude, crude, with marginally good attitudes. Be a rad dude(tte).
Stop by and see us at 315 Student Union.
Blessings,
John Hancock
Editor in Chief
