Waffling in THREE dimensions.

Friday, September 02, 2005

Fools and Liberals

What are you doing this weekend? A holiday weekend. "Going to the temple." I've heard that response at least a quarter dozen times. This place is Utah. Look, even the campus is shaped like the state-no-one-else-wanted-except-maybe-the-Native-Americans (id est 'Lamanites'). I've used my expert MS Paint skills to highlight the boarders for you; on an unedited map you'd see that the campus is outlined by "roads." Pay no attention to the numbers on the outside, its tennis courts and such, nothing important. It kind of reminds me of a military base in another country, they're essentially tiny Americas, complete with QuikEMarts and supermarkets and whatnots. Technically, they are American soil for all intents and purposes. Like Puerto Rico, but with rights.
Damn it, Sneezed on my screen.
Anyways, its mini-utah. If I knew more about or cared about geography, I'd find out which building is the remote Salt Lake as its obviously the one with the secret lab underneath it. I'm betting on the library. That place has all kinds of creepy.
Worst. Dinner. Ever. I went in expecting something good, probably not going to top my manly meal of cookies and mountain dew, but I walked the 500 metres, I wanted something delicious, damn it! No, it was awful. I usually like fish, fish are delish. No, this fish tasted like paper made from lemons that would self destruct if you got too close. Fish are meant to be eaten, the Bible says, but it also suggests locusts, so take it with a grain of salt (not too much, then the fish just tastes like tear gas). Anyways, God is out to screw us with these fish. No other organism can fall apart into countly tiny particles which are easier collected with a spoon than a fork the way this fish can, could, whatever. Thanks alot, God, real funny. Jerk. The noodles were gross and the clam chowder made me die a little inside. I thought drinking some apple juice would be more healthy than all the softdrinks I've been having, so I had some of that. After trying all this nasty stuff, I decided a hotdog might be better, but the guy tore the bun handing it to me, which later just fell apart ala fish. I tried cutting the end of the hot dog off and making a little hotdog sandwich out of the remaining bun halfs (it was in 3 pieces by this time). Crap on that. I just got a 7up and left. I'll eat starbursts until morning.

Prayer in a cafeteria is just superstitious. The workers know what they're doing, I hope. Its their job, if the food doesn't "bless and nourish [y]our bodies" that's probably you're own fault for picking the wrong items and not exercising. I don't care who you are, blessing the refreshments doesn't make them healthier, it makes the deacons hungrier by making them wait and they eat more of them before you can. God sure does work in mysterious ways! Plus, if you get botulism from their food, you can probably sue, and God is rich. Filthy Rich. Your own food should still be prayed over, because the odds are much higher for you messing up than most everyone else. I'm looking at you, cotten-candy boy.

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