The public transit buses in Washington, DC accept fare in the form of tapping a preloaded payment card against the coin machine's censor. Usually, when this SmarTrip card is tapped, the box emits a beep-like sound to indicate that the fare has been successfully paid. But sometimes, upon tapping the card, the machine will instead let out a loud buzzing noise. This could either imply that the card didn't have enough money on it or that there must have been some kind of error. Not knowing for sure, whenever this happens, the passenger in question naturally looks up at the bus driver waiting for some kind of further instruction. In response, the bus driver more often than not simply waves the passenger through without regard to the farebox at all. From this, I originally concluded that the boxes must just be faulty and that the buzzes were just to be ignored altogether.

But after a few more times of witnessing other passengers' buzzing, I've noticed that instead of the usual wave through, the bus driver will often ask the rider to attempt to pay the fare again before proceeding. This wasn't just a one-off encounter; there has been about an even split among the dozens of buses I've taken, wherein half the time the passenger is waved through and the other half the passenger is asked to pay. Whatever the scenario, the machine's buzz is exactly the same. With no ability to know whether they are free to advance or required to pay, each rider inevitably stands there, looking up at the bus driver, waiting for his or her instruction. This would be swell if the driver heeded to this practice with every occurrence, but what actually ends up happening is the machine buzzes loudly, the passenger stops and stands there, waiting for acknowledgement, and the driver just sits and STARES at them. JUST SITS AND STARES, not giving an instruction, not saying a word, not once and for all clarifying what anyone is supposed to do in response to the machine's auditory expulsion. Multiple drivers have done this! So, as a line of other incoming patrons slowly builds up behind the first, the anxious passenger must decide on the spot whether to go through and risk being yelled at by a suddenly alert driver, or tap the SmarTrip card again and risk being charged for the ride multiple times and/or getting on the nerves of those still waiting to board. Only after quite a few precious seconds of hanging in limbo does the driver then proceed in directing the rider.

Apparently, the reason for the ongoing confusion is that the box buzzes in the exact same way at both a declined entry (not enough balance on the card to pay for a trip) AND at a "low balance on card" entry reading. The signal for alerting the passenger that they have a low balance on their SmarTrip card IS THE SAME EXACT SOUND EFFECT as telling the passenger they cannot board at all. Thus, the only solution to navigate between the two possibilities is to look at the microscopic LED screen on the farebox and try to make sense of its display. Standard bus fare is $1.75, so according to the screen, a balance lower than $1.75 would indicate a declined entry and one higher than that amount should mean nothing is wrong. HOWEVER, as if all of this wasn't enough, both the buses and Metro trains sometimes allow riders to board (and exit, in the case of the Metro) without enough fare. Their cards are simply docked with a negative balance that will reveal itself upon the next card refill. It is unknown what situations qualify for a negative balance "gifted" ride and which simply result in refused entry. As a result, there is TRULY NO WAY TO TELL WHAT ANYONE IS SUPPOSED TO DO WHEN THE BUS FAREBOX BUZZES.

All it would take is a single hand motion, folks. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO EXPECT? Either a wave toward the aisle or two taps on the fare box. Come on. Apparently, even such an innate pair of gestures is either too advanced, too inconvenient, too much work, or too pointless to be bothered about. Seeing as there are so many other times where one could remain silent — like during a police interrogation, or while in the audience of a play — and so many instances where it's wise to remain motionless — like when having a theme park attendant pull down the overhead bar on a roller coaster — I cannot understand why a bus driver would waste their own time, purposely hold up the progression of people, and be forced to respond louder than necessary a minute later in order to just arbitrarily SIT AND STARE for a while. ☜

When I began working my retail job, the store was kept relatively clean. The floor was full of all the tables, racks, and shelves one would expect of a typical clothing seller, and the back area had a rather ordinary stock of additional merchandise neatly arranged on four shelves and one huge wall. Everything seemed perfectly, dully ordinary.

However, over the past several months, the store has been receiving tons more inventory faster than it can possibly sell it. In order to cope with this, the managers have been forced to gradually find more space for the unprecedented extra supply.

First, the original four shelves of stock were expanded to six. Soon after, a giant wall was constructed near the break area holding dozens and dozens of baby clothing items. Everything held steady for a while. . . until three dressing rooms had to be closed off from customers, permanently, just to be loaded with racks and racks of more clothing, broken mannequin pieces, and other metal bars and shelf fragments.

Shortly following this, the entire section of hallway in front of those dressing rooms had to also be closed off so that it could be filled with several more rolling racks and seven-foot-high metal racks. This was the extent of the overstock for a couple of weeks, until the next season's shipments came in.

With more clothes than ever, the managers wheeled two giant metal racks of clothes that now just stand freely in the middle of the store by the counter. The items on these shelves are in a state of flux, where they are simultaneously not for sale and not "not for sale" at the same time. Customers look at these racks, completely confused and just walk in the opposite direction. These two racks were soon doubled to four.

What was once merely an excess of merchandise has now spawned an excess of hangers, metal bars, and other construction tools. Several open brown boxes of hangers sit out in the hallway in front of the (still operating) dressing rooms, where anyone could see or take them. It is completely routine to find hangers sitting in and among piles of clothes, but I have recently found the aforementioned metal bars hidden in stacks of clothes as well, right alongside plastic signage, dislocated wall shelves, "how to" assembly pamphlets, and pure trash. Though it is admittedly part of my job to deal with all of this, I often arrive for work at the end of the day, meaning that the store was open and operating like this for up to nine hours before my shift.

Most recently, an absolutely HUGE rack full of clothes and boxes was wheeled out to the center of the store, literally blocking passage from one side to the other. Unlike before, this rack was very clearly and obviously not meant to be there. At the same time, the red and yellow "FIRE LANE - DO NOT STORE ANYTHING IN THIS AREA" path in the back of the employee area was covered with boxes, trash bags, carts, and other nonsense.

Remarkably, I went to work one day to find the entire mess completely gone and the entire premises fully cleaned up and organized. I was amazed. A couple of days later, everything was back to chaos as it had always been.

Of course, I have no real stake in any of this and find this entire chain of events to be quite comical. It is unbelievable that a retail chain that is a household name, multinational, and quite respected and successful can't seem to deal with such a ridiculous and trivial problem. Watching customers enter the store and attempt to navigate through the constant mess of strewn clothes, hangers, metal, shelves, and mannequin pieces is a lot like watching a dog trying to walk through a room full of garbage, carefully setting its paws down on bare spots of the floor while slowly looking around, wondering what it's doing in there in the first place, before struggling to turn around and walk out the way it came. ☜

Every handout, poster, internal memo, and other conceivable document written up my the management of my retail job has been rife with glaringly obvious spelling and grammar errors. This is not true of work produced by corporate; I am speaking about everything personally written by our own store's managers. Often, the sheer abundance of misspellings and incorrect use of tenses make the documents difficult to read and understand. No one has once noticed nor cared about this in any way. No one will ever notice. No one will ever do anything about it. ☜

Anyone still here?

I didn't think so.

Like one solitary shack still standing in the middle of nowhere after a huge tornado wipes out an entire town, Nonsense Report continues on. The gargantuan storm of UF may be long gone, but here I am, alone, picking up all the pieces.

While the rest of the world moves on with the exciting, adventurous development of their lives, I am stuck going through the same motions week after week like Groundhog Day.

I have reflected on all that has happened numerous times over the past several months. It is tough to say what, exactly, one should expect or demand of a university education. All I know is that, whatever IT is, my university did NOT give it to me.

If nothing else, universities should imbue in every single student that walks through their doors THE KNOWLEDGE, ABILITY, TOOLS, RESOURCES, AND SKILLS TO GO OUT AND ACTIVELY TRACK DOWN (NOT TO MENTION, INTELLIGENTLY APPLY AND COMPETE FOR) PAID EMPLOYMENT IN THE WORLD. Controversial, huh? I can say without hesitation that UF never did a single damn thing to prepare me in this regard. I may have learned random facts about the courses I took, but I otherwise came away with no further insight into how the "industry" operates. To this day, I am unsure of what a career in telecommunication actually is. No course I took ever discussed career paths or even relevant fields of work; I only ever learned about how the television was invented, when the radio was first used, what yellow journalism is, and other miscellaneous minutiae.

OH, AND, LITERALLY, THE SQUARE FOOTAGE OF ESPN'S STUDIOS. (YES, THAT WAS A LESSON ONE DAY: WE WORKED IN GROUPS TO GIVE PRESENTATIONS ABOUT TELECOMMUNICATION-RELATED THINGS. ONE GROUP SPENT 15 MINUTES RECITING THE SQUARE FOOTAGE OF ESPN'S STUDIOS UNDER THE GUISE OF "FUN FACTS.")

Now, I am not saying I've been completely unsuccessful in the hunt since leaving school, but everything I happen to know about job searching has been the result of my own outside research. This includes questioning my successful friends to the point of pure annoyance and scouring the internet at all times of day and night. My friends (who are the same age) and the internet (full of strangers) has helped me more than four years of "top-notch" education. I cannot stress enough how LITTLE UF did in terms of job preparation — so little that even returning to the Career Resource Center now yields less help than posting anonymously on Reddit.

(Relevant aside: I once attended a club meeting for Ad Society back when I was an advertising major. The club leaders repeated the word "networking" until they were blue in the face. Of coure, it was nothing but a buzzword, as there was never anyone present to actually network WITH. Then, at one meeting, someone of some importance came and spoke to the club. When the meeting was adjourned, everyone swarmed him, pathetically trying to introduce themselves and make awkward small talk in the mere minute they had before he left. He didn't have time to chat, and even if he did, no one said anything worth listening to. This is what I feel UF believes to be the essence of networking.)

(Relevant aside #2: A course I took did feature a "guest speaker" for one lecture with whom we were encouraged to "network." He worked in middle management at AT&T. To me, that is worse than not networking at all.)

Some may say that the solution here is to just start applying, which, yes, is certainly a good start. But for all of my elders and well-wishers who aren't currently seeking out positions, let me re-enlighten you to the true state of affairs that diminishes the hopes of many, or at least makes everything TONS more difficult. This is not me being pessimistic, but realistic:

First of all, there are only a certain number of fields you're going to consider anyway, perhaps relevant to your interests or financial goals. This eliminates everything else.

Next, you have to actually find WORK NEEDING TO BE DONE in these fields. Meaning, you won't be hired by the music industry to just like or be knowledgeable about music, you have to be able to DO SOMETHING. And it won't be something that seems appealing in any way. On top of that, someone needs to actually be hiring and have the money to pay you, unless you cultivate the job by yourself (which is doable, but not for everyone or every type of job). I'm not saying the organization has to necessarily be public about their job openings, but there needs to be SOME kind of vacancy. They can't pay you with money they don't have; I've lived through this personally.

Then, even when you do find the right position in the right field, you have to, you know, have the skills and experience to be able to DO IT. It may be easy to fake this with first internships or "lower-tier" jobs, but not forever. You usually have to have previous experience, many skills, a portfolio of relevant projects, contacts with whom you've networked, and awareness of what is actually out there. So, good luck to you if you've graduated college without any real skills or experience, as is the case with many people. No one will hire you to just "help out" wherever needed on goodwill alone.

Finally, maybe you've been so fortunate as to find the right position, in the right field, with a position open. Let's say you do have all the relevant experience and skills needed to get the job. Well. . . you're still not in, because now you have to compete with the dozens, hundreds, or even thousands of other millennials in the rat race to get the ONE spot. I guarantee you your competition is ruthless. There will always be some who have done tons of work in the field already. Who have mastered every Adobe program and web coding language (because it seems like every field needs these now). There will be those who present themselves fully and perfectly, but succinctly. There will be people who have faked their entire resumes, yet will never be caught. There will be people who know people who know people and will be chosen because of nepotism. There will be people who bribe the hiring managers, because that actually does work for some reason. There will be people who just happen to be in the right place at the right time, and those people may not be you.

SO YEAH.

Plus, if you do find the right position, in the right place, and you are equipped with the right skills and experience, AND you are better than your competition. . . the job will be on the other side of the country and you'll have no means to move there.

If you do have the ability to move there, the job will be an internship, 40 hours a week, unpaid.

If you are still willing to take the unpaid internship on the other side of the country, you will have missed the hard deadline to apply by a week.

If you're ready, willing, able, and don't miss the deadline, the job will be in a field that you were not ever interested in. Why do you care in the first place?

When searching for a job, if it isn't one of these things, it WILL be the other. I GUARANTEE IT.

FIN. ☜

One of my current jobs has me operating camera for the Miami-Dade County Public School Board's monthly meetings. This is quite a monotonous task, as the meetings usually consist of several hours of very boring speeches, frivolous back and forth between board members and the public, and even the occasional performance from a school's music or dance program whose members don't want to be there. One of the components of a meeting involves members of the public signing up in advance to speak to the board directly about any agenda item. Then, when that item is addressed in the meeting, the chairperson calls each person's name and gives him or her a few minutes to speak.

Because the protocol is to sign up in advance to speak, there are always a couple of names on the list of people who intended to show up but then later don't. This is not a big deal, as the chairperson waits a moment and then simply moves on to the next name. At the most recent meeting, however, there was a particular agenda item that dealt with school bus drivers requesting pay raises. For that item, MORE THAN 300 PEOPLE SIGNED UP TO SPEAK AND ONLY TWO SHOWED UP. The chairperson literally sat there and calmly and quietly read EVERY SINGLE NAME OF EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO HAD SIGNED UP. THE ENTIRE AUDIENCE SAT THERE STARING AS SHE CALLED OUT ALMOST 400 FIRST AND LAST NAMES. Plus, the two that did show up were toward the end of the list. One of them was literally the penultimate name called.

I HAD TO STAND IN PLACE AND RUN CAMERA STEADILY AS THIS WOMAN TOOK THE TIME TO DO THIS. WHY WOULD HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE TAKE THE TIME TO SIGN UP FOR AN ISSUE, SHOWING THAT IT IS UNDOUBTEDLY VERY IMPORTANT TO THEM, ONLY TO THEN NOT TAKE THEIR ONE CHANCE TO MAKE THEIR VOICE HEARD ON THE MATTER???

Oh yeah, and I'm unpaid for this work. ☜

A few days a week, I travel along US 1 to get home from work. I work half days, so I'm often on the road getting to US 1 at around noon or shortly thereafter. Noon is not rush hour by any means, yet for the past few weeks, the whole highway has been severely congested with bumper-to-bumper traffic going in my direction in the middle of the day.

The first time it happened, I thought there must have been a car accident. After waiting in traffic for HOURS, I finally pulled up to the area where the disturbance originated to find that the left lane of US 1 was completely closed for a good mile.WHY? Just so that workers could do TREE WORK. JUST ROUTINE, EVERYDAY, AVERAGE, RUN-OF-THE-MILL TREE WORK.

They were not picking up a fallen tree or branch. They were not clearing out any trees. They were not doing any work that involved being in the road at all, actually. All they appeared to be doing was using a leaf blower to clear out some leaf litter or weeds from the median. THAT WAS IT. A median that nobody ever goes to, stops at, sees, or acknowledges needed to be cleared of WEEDS. Apparently, the county needed to schedule this all-too-urgent task in the middle of the day, completely and unnecessarily closing an entire lane of a major highway, creating a traffic jam that backed up drivers for MILES.

Thankfully, winter break was approaching and I had time off from work, so I didn't need to drive in that area again for a while. HOWEVER, WHEN I CAME BACK TO WORK TWO WEEKS LATER AND LEFT TO DRIVE HOME, THEY WERE AGAIN DOING THE SAME EXACT TREE WORK, IN THE SAME EXACT SPOT, RESULTING IN THE SAME CLOSURE OF THE SAME LANE AND THE SAME TRAFFIC JAM BACKING UP CARS FOR MILES, AGAIN.

I'm not someone to ever complain about traffic, BUT COME ON. HONESTLY. ☜

There are several rest stops spaced out along Florida's Turnpike. These rest stops, as I've mentioned in earlier entries, contain fast food restaurants, convenience shops, restrooms, and the like. The Turkey Lake stop has a convenience store that sells food, drinks, toiletries, and small electronics. The store is a lot like the number of small convenience shops you'd find in an airport. Like an airport, there's also a giant marquee displayed over the storefront, and one of the details on this marquee is a picture of Dan Brown's novel, Inferno.

The image is strongly suggesting that the book is sold within the store. Not only is Inferno NOT sold in this store, the store does not sell books at all. It has NEVER sold books. Ever. All of these Turnpike stops were recently completely renovated, so I can confirm this as fact. Plus, the book image is somewhat permanent; it is not a digital photograph that can be routinely edited. It appears to be a stained-glass style poster that is literally affixed to the wall above the store's entrance.

Why would the designers of this plaza commission the construction of this display and take the time to purchase and install a glass plate of a novel when the store does not sell books at all?! They sell magazines, and could've put a magazine cover in that space. They could've put an image of a food or drink item that they sell. Or an electronic of some kind. Even if they are going to lie and feature a product they do not sell, there are much better choices to draw in potential customers than the cover of a book.

I realize that is a "low stakes" entry that means nothing to anyone, but think about it in principle. This is a business flat-out LYING to the public, indirectly stating that they sell something that they do not and have never sold, and nobody cares. At all. It may seem like small potatoes now, but slowly and surely, more and more businesses and organizations will continue to do whatever they want and nobody on this planet will ever lift their head up from looking at their phones long enough to notice or act.

Imagine, if I spoke to the manager of the shop about the marquee, asking why they advertise a book when they do not sell books, I'd be stared at as the crazy one! In fact, the few people in society who do make the effort to inquire about such deceitful practices ARE often stared at, whispered about, ridiculed, or just generally berated by those they complain to. ☜

Like many, I have spent more hours than I'd care to admit frivolously adjusting and readjusting the placement and positioning of apps on my smartphone home screen. I finally got them organized by frequency of use on different "pages," with the home screen featuring my most commonly used apps, the second page containing my next-most commonly used ones, and so forth. I had achieved a good rhythm with this arrangement when suddenly, after not looking through my phone for a few hours, the interface just completely changed my setup on its own. The phone somehow made my second page of apps the default "first" page, the third page became the second page, and my original first page and home screen was booted to the last page from the opposite side. This change was completely unprompted and not caused by any observable cause. I knew that occasionally, downloading a system update causes the app screens to reset themselves, but I had not downloaded anything. I had not tampered with anything. The phone was somehow programmed, for absolutely no reason, to alter which page was the default home screen and which were the secondary screens entirely on its own without being touched at all.

See, I can understand settings getting messed up as a result of the user tinkering with them, but WHY would a phone even contain the necessary programming code to alter such trivial screen setups for absolutely no reason without being prompted? Why wouldn't the phone, by default, you know, NOT change anything and, just maybe, LEAVE SETTINGS THE WAY THEY ARE UNTIL INTENTIONALLY ALTERED BY THE USER?! ☜

Let me come right out and say it: I have never met a single person who, after taking a group photograph, looks forward to engaging in the ubiquitous, inescapable follow-up activity: the "funny" or "crazy" picture.

What is the point of this? Not only is the act of staying put after the principal "smiling" shots for an additional "crazy" or "funny" picture universally dreaded by both the subjects and the photographer alike, the practice has no true benefits of which to speak, either. It is a colossal waste of time, energy, patience, camera or phone battery life, and device memory. When undertaken at an outdoor event, it only leads to additional sweating, freezing, exposure to insects, and general discomfort and annoyance. Such pictures are almost always requested by participants who are already naturally flamboyant and "crazy," or by a mom who is completely out of touch with the feelings of those involved. As I said, I've never met anyone who looks forward to the charade; it's just called for because it's always been called for since childhood.

FIRST OF ALL, the definition of what constitutes a "funny" or "crazy" picture has always been hotly debated (by me). What are you supposed to do in these "fun" photographs? What can anyone do? The only poses I've ever seen anyone manage to come up with under a call for funny or crazy pictures is stick his or her tongue out, make a funny face, hold out "bunny ears" above a nearby person's head, throw up peace signs, the middle finger, or other gang/hand signal variants, or otherwise grab the body of a nearby friend.

Why do we need a photographic record of our instances of performing these ridiculous acts? Are they funny? Do they ADD anything that the original photo could not capture? The original picture's intention is understandable; it represents that the entire group was together for some reason, engaging in an activity or visit, and probably had an enjoyable time. It is not trying to imply anything further. The "funny" or "crazy" picture is trying to communicate that the group is silly and light-hearted, but because it is forced as part of some societal "tradition," this air of spontaneity is completely lost. This is not to mention the fact that all of the aforementioned poses and gestures are entirely played out and have been for years. When anyone chooses to seriously exhibit them, they are priming themselves for embarrassment or ridicule. Holding bunny ears above someone's head is equivalent to telling a joke where "orange you glad I didn't say banana" is the punchline and expecting sincere laughter. Displaying hand gestures of any kind, especially faux "gang" signs, turns posers into poseurs. The only kind of acceptable "funny" or "crazy" act I can surmise is some kind of choreographed team effort that no group would ever bother to plan under normal circumstances. That, or facing completely backwards with nobody around noticing. But what do I know? Most people end up spending the duration of the funny, crazy picture awkwardly looking around or muttering, "I never know what to do for these. . ." before the picture is snapped and promptly never addressed (or seen!) again.

Not only is deducing the ideal behavior for the despised act itself a struggle, but the sheer length of time it takes to cycle through all of the steps is in itself painstaking. Sure, there is always unspoken pressure on part of the photographer to get the shots as quickly as possible so that the subjects don't have to stand, crouch, or kneel for too long — but this pressure is directly undermined by the number of requests made halfway during the process. There are often nonnegotiable requests of taking multiple pictures, using different cameras, and altering between portrait and landscape orientations. Then, there are repeated takes for someone getting left out of the frame, blinking, "looking ugly," and numerous other unavoidable flaws. To add further torture to this affair with "crazy" or "funny" pictures is absolutely inscrutable. WE ONLY HAVE SO MUCH TIME ON THIS PLANET. ☜

Years ago, NASA made what was supposed to be an unprecedented, game-changing discovery. They announced to the world that they had discovered "arsenic-based life," namely suggesting that they had knowledge of life forms that could utilize arsenic to thrive. All other forms of life ever known use, or did use, phosphorus. This was supposedly a huge deal (I say supposedly not out of derision but because I truly do not know how huge of a deal it was actually proclaimed to be).

What I do know, though, is that several months and years after this announcement, not only did NASA never follow up with additional findings (in any public way), EVERYONE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY FORGOT ALL ABOUT IT. It was unusual enough that NASA would never say another word about this grand declaration, though understandable if they in fact never made any subsequent breakthroughs in the field. But PEOPLE GOT SO EXCITED ABOUT THE DISCOVERY AND THEN SIMPLY FORGOT ABOUT IT A SHORT TIME LATER. THEY NEVER ONCE WONDERED ABOUT IT OR ASKED AROUND ABOUT IT. . . THEY JUST WIPED IT FROM THEIR MEMORIES ENTIRELY!

What I do know, though, is that several months and years after this announcement, not only did NASA never follow up with additional findings (in any public way), EVERYONE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY FORGOT ALL ABOUT IT. It was unusual enough that NASA would never say another word about this grand declaration, though understandable if they in fact never made any subsequent breakthroughs in the field. But PEOPLE GOT SO EXCITED ABOUT THE DISCOVERY AND THEN SIMPLY FORGOT ABOUT IT A SHORT TIME LATER. THEY NEVER ONCE WONDERED ABOUT IT OR ASKED AROUND ABOUT IT. . . THEY JUST WIPED IT FROM THEIR MEMORIES ENTIRELY! Actually, this isn't unusual at all, because dozens of entries I've written here relate to this. Too often, something is announced to the world, and after that preliminary message, NOBODY cares to seek any further news about it. And, as always, I'm the only one on the planet who notices or cares. ☜

I was thinking back to a sociology class I took last year at around this time. Though the class itself was enjoyable enough, even entertaining on occasion, the professor was a bit out of touch with how students felt about the lessons. Though she was extremely nice, intelligent, patient, and helpful, she also instituted a series of strange lecture discussions that were severely, ridiculously annoying.

One such discussion routine started with presenting a picture and would appear with every new chapter in her lecture slides. She'd pose a single photograph relating to the chapter's material over the computer projector and ask the class to simply think about it and then shout out whatever came to mind. One commonly recurring photograph theme was babies, as pictures of babies could easily represent such sociology topics such as families, parenthood, birth, nature vs. nurture, gender roles, and whatnot.

During one class, as expected, the professor began the lesson by pulling up a picture of a smiling baby. She asked us to think about the image and to call out whatever thoughts we had about it. Apparently, this ridiculously straightforward instruction was too difficult, as the class sat in total silence for about a whole minute. (I myself was too lazy to answer.) Actually, this same silence occurred EVERY time she posed these photographs for some reason. All she asked of us was to shout out ANY thoughts at all we had about a photo of a human infant — ANY AT ALL, with no wrong answers — and no one at Florida's flagship university could muster a thing.

After that first minute, someone timidly suggested, "It's a. . . it's a baby. . ."

"Yes, yes, it's a baby," the professor replied, somewhat facetiously but not unkindly.

What seemed like several more minutes went by, and nobody in the class had anything further to add. Finally, someone else muttered quietly, "Seems like a. . . a happy baby. . .?"

"Happy baby!" the professor cheerfully confirmed. She said this was a sense of finality, of satisfaction, as if we had reached the desired response to represent the entire day's lesson. "Happy baby" was not, of course, the subject of the chapter. "Happy baby" is arguably not the subject of any college-level sociology chapter, or even the subject of anything at all after kindergarten. Somehow, though, she seemed to be quite satisfied with that response.

After the answer "happy baby," the professor waited a few more minutes for additional thoughts before moving on to the next slide. Here I should reiterate, though, she wasn't looking for the "happy baby" comment to be expanded upon or otherwise fleshed out. It was, in her eyes, completely accurate and thorough. She merely wanted to make sure no one in the class had anything further before moving on. Other than a few other unhelpful quips, such as "smiling baby," and "it's cute," nobody had anything to express.

Insert a whole rant about the stupidity of UF's student body, which I've talked about ad nauseam as it is. The real question here is WHY my professor was wholly satisfied with the answer "happy baby" when the chapter turned out to be about the nature versus nurture debate. "Happy baby" did not represent ANYTHING. Literal preschoolers could have looked at a photograph of a smiling baby and drawn the same conclusion. During all other instances of this lecture exercise, she had actually kept the "discussion" going by waiting for the class to finally, inevitably arrive at the CORRECT meaning for the picture, as any reasonable person would. So WHY, WHY, WHY did she ever stop and accept nothing but "happy baby" as a suitable conclusion when the ensuing lesson was about nature versus nurture?! How could this ever possibly be deemed a suitable description? How could accepting such a description be a rational human behavior?! Unlike other entries, there seems to be no apparent motive nor a history of insanity in this story. She was not otherwise mentally incapacitated . . . SO, WHY?!?! WHY DO I CARE ABOUT THIS AT ALL?!?!? ☜

In the aftermath of the apocalypse that was my freshman year roommates situation, I decided to take no chances. For sophomore year, I immediately planned to live with a close friend and end it right there. HOWEVER. . . the apartment that this friend was living in was already filled up with other applicants. Though I knew other people in town, there was really no one else I felt comfortable enough to actually live with. I figured that if I did live with someone I knew and ended up hating it, it would be much harder to avoid that person and much more awkward having to settle a dispute than if it were against random strangers. I eventually decided to just live in the same complex as my initial friend, even if I couldn't be his roommate. I would live with random roommates again, but in my mind, what were the chances that lightning would strike twice when I already endured the three absolute most insane creatures to ever grace the planet? Anyone else would be a welcomed improvement.

Well. . . actually, no. This guy was not an improvement. It was just one guy, because no one ever ended up living in the third bedroom of our 3/2 apartment. It was just me and this guy, and his insanity ranked right up there with the likes of Fred, Mitchell, and Baba. It's been so long now that it almost seems like I am recanting an old legend, rather than dictating the very honest tribulations of my college experience. But it's true: I spent another YEAR living with ANOTHER ABSOLUTELY INSANE PERSON.

Dustin* was his name. (*It actually wasn't.) On the surface, Dustin seemed to be pretty normal. He looked normal, had normal mannerisms, dressed normally, and had a dog. He kept to himself and was easygoing and friendly. Actually, he loved Harry Potter and Pokémon, two childhood staples of mine, so I thought we'd have a connection there. And we did at first.

But. . . as time went on, I realized that there wasn't much depth to Dustin. Whereas my love for the childhood franchises was nostalgic, his love for them was the entirety of his personality. Anime, manga, and Harry Potter were literally the only things in the WORLD he was interested in. His entire room was decorated with Pokémon stuffed animals, for instance. Harry Potter figurines lined his desk and shelves. It would've been sort of fun if he was an eccentric fanboy who got really excited about his interests, but Dustin turned out to be rather depressing. He would just sit there in his room, petting his dog and staring. Or standing at the kitchen counter, staring. You know, if he had been a lonely freshman just looking for a friend, I would've fully understood him and reached out. But he wasn't. He seemed to be perfectly at ease in his living situation, and didn't seem to be looking for company at all. He slowly grew to be more and more standoffish, too.

Nevertheless, all of that in itself wasn't too big of a deal. I had no problem trying to adapt to whatever setup a roommate would want, social or not. I didn't care. But over time, his insanity came into full form; it was a blend of many undesirable qualities that independently didn't seem like much but combined were the makings of quite the mental patient.

As I said, there wasn't much depth to my roommate. Over the first few weeks of making conversation, I was able to deduce that Dustin didn't really have much going on in his life. Not that I did either! But I at least had likes, dislikes, hopes, dreams, passions, and whatnot. Dustin did not. He didn't really like anything (other than the aforementioned) or dislike anything. There was nothing he really wanted to do, or anywhere he wanted to go, or anything going on with him internally or externally. It wasn't that he was shy, because he wasn't. He'd make all the small talk in the world — he just did not have anything else to ever continue on with. So, our "friendship" disintegrated quickly.

Then there were all the little quirks. Dustin would sniffle loudly all the time, day and night, even though he was not sick nor crying. He would cook large portions of food — full meals — and leave them out on the stovetop, untouched, for weeks. When speaking to his dog, he would have full conversations with him, but not the kind of cutesy words one would expect a dog lover to say. Dustin would scold the dog for any wrongdoing with a very ordinary even tone of voice, saying, "No, we don't do that, that is not okay," as if the dog could understand the words themselves.

Dustin had a few random friends over from time to time, and he would allow them to use my personal bathroom when he thought I wasn't home. I remember hearing some of these friends ask about my food in the refrigerator. Dustin would always say, "that's not mine" in a very harsh manner as though he was scared I could pop out at any moment. (But the bathroom. . . is a free for all?). His only consistent friend, other than the dog, was this extremely loud, shrill, talkative girl who would never shut up.

Oh, and speaking of that dog, the little Yorkie would constantly just be there. I'd turn around, and he'd be there. Just standing there. Staring. I'd walk out to the living room and he would just look up and stare. My bedroom door would be fully closed and then suddenly, it'd open and the dog would just be standing at the doorway, staring at me. Worst of all, one late night, the dog came into my room and expelled diarrhea in the middle of my carpet. I was forced to clean it and the next morning Dustin did not seem to think it was even worth apologizing over.

Even stranger, I came home one afternoon to find Dustin lying on his bed completely naked, bedroom door wide open, pleasuring himself in full view of the hallway. When he saw me standing there, he did not immediately stop. He continued on a little bit, pretending to be on the phone, and then got up and closed the door after several seconds.

Yes, I understand that all of these observations seem petty and trivial, but take it in context. Dustin was not some cartoon character or funny party guy winding up in whimsical misadventures. All of this crazy behavior would be acceptable coming from an otherwise friendly or sociable person, but Dustin was quiet, lonely, depressed, sick, and aimless. At least with the freshman year crew, everyone was upbeat. Everyone made you feel alive. Sure, they were unbearable and insane, but they almost made you laugh at their ridiculous antics. Dustin was just pitiful. He dragged me down with him and was one influence on sophomore year being just as horrible as the one preceding it. It was almost like living alone, but without the freedom. Imagine living in isolation save for a sad, sniffling figure just standing there staring at you at random moments with a dog that can open closed doors only to stare at you more while it defecates on your carpet.

And as for Dustin. . .

. . . HE DID NOT IMMEDIATELY STOP. ☜

You: standing there, in the corner, not wanting to be approached or addressed.

They: a relative or older friend, perhaps unfamiliar — hasn’t seen you in a long time. No common ground to tread, but ever will they try. They advance upon you and grasp for the only topic of conversation suitable for such unwarranted, awkward interaction. You knew it was coming from the moment your eyes met and instantly you start assembling any scraps of passable utterances to pass these next few minutes as painlessly as possible.

“So,” they begin. “How’s the job hunt coming?”

The longer this can of worms of a discussion wears on, the more pleasantries are required of exchange. Toward the end of the conversation, your friend or relative will inevitably deliver one particularly odd remark: as you convey a sense of where you are planning on working, studying, interning, or otherwise journeying, they will say, “Oh, that’s good, because people will always need that."

Meaning, when you announce your intention to go to med school, you’ll hear, "oh, that’s good, because people will always need doctors.”

Or as you divulge your plans to intern for an engineering company: “Oh, great idea, the world will always need more engineers.”

Of course, they're saying this as a means of reassurance, making you feel secure in your career path by informing you that there is a relatively low chance that your field will grow obsolete. In these particular cases, I suppose the canned response holds water. However, the line is swiftly employed for nearly any possible career path, from food service to banking, web design to real estate, custodial duties to interpretive dance.

“Grandma, I’m thinking of going back to school to get my MBA.”

“That’s a smart move. The world will always need businesses!”

… Yeah, MAYBE the world will always “need” businesses, but does that really have ANYTHING to do with you as one person? The world may need business, but the world doesn’t necessarily need YOU in business. It doesn’t need YOUR business. It may not even need the entire INDUSTRY of whatever you happen to pursue.

Or how about when you declare your objective of working as a server at some local quick-service restaurant, purely for the pursuit of the Almighty Dollar and for no actual fulfillment of any kind… and instead of any possible alternate response, someone says, “Good, because you know, people will always have to eat.”

People may always have to eat, but that has absolutely zero to do with ANYTHING. People will indeed eat and just not be served by you. They’ll eat at home. They’ll eat at other restaurants. They’ll get on with their lives just as they always have before you ever existed. They’ll probably eat at your restaurant during the hours you don’t work.

The most fitting observation would be when your nana reminds you that, regarding your social media internship, “people will always need the internet!"

Because — and do I really have to say it? — people will not always NEED the internet or social media or your particular company, and what’s more, if you are responsible for churning out hashtag-laden tweets brimming with false enthusiasm about why we should follow your public relations firm on Tumblr, is this something you really want the world to always "need”?! ☜

UF students have school email addresses on the university's own email client, Gatorlink Webmail. Recently, Webmail decided to introduce a new authentication page. Not a new email home page, not a new user interface, not anything else new — JUST the login page is redesigned. This is, of course, the page that users see for a full ten seconds before signing in, never to dwell on it for any reason thereafter. Everything else about the email service is just as outdated as ever, as expected. They even made the point to announce the grand redesign on the authentication page itself right before the change was to be unveiled, as if anyone cared. ☜

This is a long entry. Reader discretion is advised.

There was no other way it could've happened.

I look back through the years, reflecting on my life, replaying the moments over and over in my mind, but it's no use.

There was no other way it could've happened.

It was always meant to come to this. From the very beginning, my fate was sealed. Nothing I can do will alter this course of time.

You see, after spending five odd years documenting every annoyance, grievance, injustice, instance of bewilderment, situation of frustration. . . every disappointment, every letdown, every last moment of pure and utter discomfort I have faced in any capacity whatsoever. . . the world has granted me one last impediment, one last challenge. . . one that has eclipsed everything I have faced so far and perhaps anything I will face ever again.

There was no other way it could've happened.

I am not graduating on time because several professors, all of whom I needed to come through with their part of a project, failed me.

Am I making sense? It is surreal.

Let me explain this. To graduate, I am required to complete a project. The project DEMANDS collaboration with a professor or administrator. I contacted several over the past four months. One professor showed interest, agreeing that my project could revolve around assisting her with a venture of her own. Then, when I agreed to it, she never replied ever again, even though SHE IS THE ONE WHO WANTED MY HELP WITH HER ASSIGNMENT. Others would drag out the process for so many weeks that I would be forced to move on to somebody else.

There is no way I can do the project alone. I NEED someone's oversight to do it. There is no way I can graduate without the project completed. If no one provides oversight, I can not complete it. I will not graduate on time.

And that's it.

* * *

PART 1: I AM THE NONSENSE

Back in November of last year, I started to register for classes for this current semester. This was one of the first times I EVER registered early. Usually, I sign up for my courses the week before school starts. I managed to enroll for all the credits I needed, save one: a peculiar listing on my degree audit called "SENIOR PROJECT." When I tried to add it, the site told me that an advisor would need to register me instead.

I went to my advisor very soon after asking about this requirement, and she told me, as I recall, that the senior project is something every telecommunication major must complete in order to graduate. I asked what it was exactly, and she said it could be basically "anything," as long as it demonstrated knowledge and leadership in the field. The project was to be overseen by a professor in the department. I felt no qualms at this point in the process because I knew thousands of students must've done this project before me, hundreds alongside me, and thousands (unfortunately) would after me. I assumed everyone in the department was familiar with it at least a little. I made a special point to mention to my advisor that I did not know anything about telecommunication, a claim I have professed throughout my journey in the major. (For those unfamiliar with telecommunication, the major can be compared to what a journalism student might end up with if they were not required to report, write stories, publish anything, or create a portfolio. All those other classes they might take to round out their studies? That’s what my major is entirely.)

Anyway, my advisor assured me that it wasn't a problem, as I could make the project about whatever I wanted, really. I pitched her some of my interests and she gave me the name of a professor who was doing a project of her own that seemed to match. Let's call her the Professor Who Left Me on the Side of the Road to Die Bleeding, which is her maiden name.

My advisor was very familiar with a conference this professor was working on, and she told me I could help her with it and that could essentially be my project. I had no reason to doubt this or search for anything further. . . and why would I? This did indeed seem like something worthwhile. So, I agreed to do it when next semester came around and that was that. The advisor wouldn't register me for the "course" online until the time I actually began the project, but that was no big deal.

Now, here is a time when some may criticize me for making a mistake, but one that I would argue was not unreasonable — I did not contact the Professor Who Left Me on the Side of the Road to Die Bleeding until mid-December. I first met with my advisor in November. So, maybe I waited a bit too long, but the project was for 2013 and this fall 2012 semester wasn't even over yet. I had final exams and was just trying to get through them before moving on to my next obstacle in this four-year hell. I was trying to do one thing at a time instead of loading my plate. The advisor did not tell me there was any kind of deadline or time crunch, so I spent my time working on other things to which there was a deadline and time crunch.

Eventually I did email that professor in mid-December, during winter break, explaining everything the advisor had gone over with me. Of course, I didn't expect a response immediately, but by New Year's, she had still not replied. Finally, on January 5th, she answered.

Pause here for a moment — these are her exact words in her email back to me. Remember these words. I have lifted them straight from the email she sent: "Let's meet to discuss this project and see how we might work together." That was the main idea, and none of the rest of the email seemed to go against that statement. "Let's meet and discuss it." Does this sound like someone saying no to my request? Is this the reply of someone who would be unable to work with me? Is this the kind of reply I should expect if what I offered in my project proposal to her would NOT be suitable? You tell me. Honestly, I do not know.

The semester began on January 7th, but it turned out that Friday the 11th was the only day of that first week we were both able to meet. When we did, she told me very simply that she was NO LONGER DOING THE PROJECT I HAD BEEN COMMUNICATING TO HER ABOUT ALL THIS TIME. As in, it wasn't happening. At all. (This was not a new revelation, either. I would soon learn that she was preparing for a doctorate thesis or something, which she would definitely have known about for MUCH LONGER THAN MID-DECEMBER.) BUT, she said, I could bring her a completely new idea, from scratch, and she would see if that could be worked out instead. Oh, and she added one last little detail: the deadline for the project to be drawn up, approved, and submitted WAS IN EXACTLY 45 MINUTES FROM THAT MOMENT. YEAH.

AS YOU RECALL, I DO NOT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT TELECOMMUNICATION. I have NO IDEA what the senior project was supposed to be about other than my one failed idea, which was to help HER out. My advisor was not in her office that day, and no one anywhere seemed to have any idea what would constitute a project. There was literally nothing I could produce in 45 minutes. So, I had no choice but to miss the deadline and had to file for a formal "extension" with the head of the department.

PART 2: Nobody Answers

I met with my advisor when she finally returned the next week and she was very understanding, giving me the name of someone new to try and work with. Missing the deadline turned out not to be such a big deal after all, and she said she could override it (SO WHY DID THAT PREVIOUS PROFESSOR STRESS THE DEADLINE?!) This new person to work with shall be known as the Woman Who is Actually 12 with No Business Being Employed.

I emailed THIS woman telling her my whole story, and she actually responded quickly, which would turn out to be quite out of character for her. She said she could meet and wanted to know when I was free.

I told her when I was free that same day. No response. I waited and waited. I actually waited a week (I didn't want to "push" anyone or be too insistent, knowing that my senior project is honestly none of their business anyway). I emailed her again, asking to meet again. No response. The next day I emailed her AGAIN, and she finally answered. Without an apology or explanation, she just said to swing by her office whenever.

By now it was January 25th. Yes, I know, two weeks had passed since the project was "supposed" to be finalized. I tried to be quick and efficient, but no one seems to remember that I had OTHER THINGS TO DO, TOO. A full schedule of classes, loading up on extracurriculars, and actually trying to enjoy Gainesville (not so much), for starters. BUT, on January 25th, we finally met.

The Woman Who is Actually 12 with No Business Being Employed was kind and helpful on the surface. She was a tad immature and obnoxious, but not annoyingly so. She emailed two people from the radio department of UF telling them about my situation. She told me she'd let me know when they replied.

NOW, I want you to remember that. SHE told ME that SHE would let ME know when they replied. There was not much else I could do to be more proactive then, was there? I was waiting on HER for the information. I did not know these people. I did not have their contact information. I could've asked for it, but wouldn't that undermine all the work she was doing to contact them FOR me?

Four days later, she hadn't gotten back to me. I emailed her about it. Nothing. No reply.

On February 6th, I went to her office in person and waited for HOURS. I went at two different times and waited for HOURS. She wasn't there. It wasn't that she was busy with someone else, she was just NOT THERE. I emailed her about this, too. No reply. At this point, I asked about what I could start doing on my own — I WAS TRYING TO BE PROACTIVE ABOUT IT (which no one seems to believe.) No reply.

A short time after, I did manage to catch her in the office and she updated me — though she was just now looking for their replies for the first time. The man she tried just flat out did not answer. The woman she contacted did, and we jumped on the opportunity for the project then and there. Basically, I'd be helping her set up for an event she was putting on. I didn't care what I'd be doing at this point, I just wanted SOMETHING to do. I'll call this new gentlewoman the Professor Who is Too Rude to Answer or Accept Help.

This newest professor actually did respond when I first emailed her about the project which was LITERALLY ONLY FOUR DAYS after the day I waited for the Woman Who is Actually 12 outside her office for hours. Though the new professor wanted my help with her event, she told me she didn't really know what a senior project was. I told her I didn't either. Anything she needed help with would do just fine, I said, because 1) it was true and 2) I figured the more open I was to anything, the quicker we could get this whole thing over already. She apparently took this to mean I was irresponsible or dumb, because shortly thereafter, the Woman Who is Actually 12 emailed me. She gently admonished me for not being forward or informative, and for forcing this new contact to come up with all the logistics for me. . . which I was not doing.

PART 3: The Third Part

From then on, the Professor Who is Too Rude to Answer or Accept Help did not reply to me for 10 days, even though I emailed her twice. When she did, said she could use the help and seemed like she really was desperate for it, but her replies were cold. I tried to stay very friendly regardless, and we agreed to meet the next day. When I went to her office at our scheduled time, I waited for HOURS and HOURS because she was not there.

FINALLY, she showed up, offering no apology and only a very brief explanation. My task? TO MOVE TWO BOXES. YES, LITERALLY. SHE HAD ME MOVE TWO (SMALL!) BOXES FROM ONE FLOOR TO ANOTHER BY ELEVATOR.

After I had completed moving the boxes, I asked what I could help with next, very eagerly. She said that that was all for the day, and that (pause, wait for it) SHE WOULD EMAIL ME ABOUT WHEN TO NEXT MEET. This was a Friday. She said she would email me on MONDAY. Yes, she DID specify the day. SHE. . . would. . . email. . . ME. GOT IT!?!?

However, keeping in mind everything that had happened, I decided it was time I started calling the shots. I beat her to it on Monday and emailed her first, asking when I could next come in to help. I even suggested a time. AND SHE FLAT OUT, DID. NOT. RESPOND. EVER. AGAIN. TO THIS DAY. SHE TOOK ON MY PROJECT, ASKED FOR MY HELP, SAID SHE NEEDED IT, AND THEN JUST COMPLETELY IGNORED ME FROM THERE ON OUT. NOTHING. NO EXPLANATION AT ALL.

Starting then, I was truly desperate. Understand that in addition to all of this unnecessary PURE AND UTTER NONSENSE, my advisor was almost, sort of, kind of, just a little bit, blaming ME for everything that had happened. She repeated things like "You waited too long," "You need to do this" and "You need to get started." She was of help, but this certainly added insult to overwhelming injury.

Because the project STILL hasn't begun, it is officially too late to override the deadline and I cannot graduate until it is done, even after all of this. The record will show I’m "taking" the project in the summer, regardless of when I actually do it.

Finally, NOW, in MID-MARCH, SOMEONE has FINALLY given me something concrete to do. This person, Radio Man, isn't completely without sin though: he was the man who ignored the Woman Who is Actually 12 months ago. He also ignored me for a while until the advisor talked to him herself FOR me.

Because anyone who reads Nonsense Report knows that I would rather die than remain in Gainesville any longer than necessary, I have been trying as hard as possible to complete the project NOW so that the summer registration is just a technicality. At first, my advisor said this was allowable, but after all this time, she is starting to doubt whether I will have the time to do the project in the two months before this semester ends. When I try to politely bring up the fact that I really did all I could and was unable to prevent all of this utter DRAMA from happening, she just point to the fact that everyone else in my major is doing their projects just fine (GOD, HOW?!?!??!??!!??!?!) and that it would be unfair for me to have any special treatment or lessened requirements.

I AM BEING TOLD WHAT WOULD BE UNFAIR. I MAKE THE ATTEMPTS. I DO WHAT IS ASKED. I EMAIL WHO I AM TOLD TO EMAIL. I MEET WITH WHOM I ARRANGE TO MEET. I HELP WHOM I AM ASKED TO HELP. AND NO ONE DOES ANYTHING ON THIS PLANET TO HELP ME BACK WITH THIS PROJECT THAT I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO DESIRE TO DO IN THE FIRST PLACE.

There was no other way it could've happened.

I am not graduating on time because several professors, all of whom I relied on to come through with their part of a project, did not contact me back about this graduation requirement FOR MONTHS.

Am I making sense? It is surreal.

There was no other way it could've happened. ☜

Back in September of last year, I applied for an online job with a company called OpenEnglish. The job was to teach English to foreign people through video chats and other online lessons. It seemed simple enough and actually rewarding, so I applied through their website in the exact manner they specified. I had a friend already employed there who reassured me that it was definitely legitimate, so I had no concerns after applying. The message at the end of the application told me to expect a response in seven business days. When I didn't hear back for a few weeks, I even went the extra mile (as much as I could, anyway) by emailing the woman in charge reminding her of my application. She did not respond, obviously. There was no phone number listed anywhere on the website (at that time, though there is now), so that was really all I could do.

SIX MONTHS LATER, a few days ago, I received an automated email from OpenEnglish saying that my application had been RECEIVED. NOT THAT IT HAD BEEN READ, CONSIDERED, OR DECIDED UPON IN ANY WAY — JUST RECEIVED. SIX MONTHS LATER. Not unexpectedly, I have not thought nor cared about this job for at least four months now and it is absolutely pathetic and laughable that it takes half a year for a business just to RECEIVE an application. Pathetic. And laughable. ☜

I have an acquaintance here at school whom I know well enough to say hello whenever I pass her on campus. Usually, upon seeing each other, we do say hello and exchange maybe a sentence or two of conversation. However, there is one spot on campus where she ignores me completely. I'll look at her, ready to say hello like always, and she'll avoid my gaze very obviously, looking straight ahead and walking faster than usual. This only happens at this one area, and it's an area wherein we cross paths every week. Elsewhere at school she'll be perfectly friendly as though this has never happened. But at this one spot, she wholly and utterly avoids me with extreme devotion. No, it's not like she's trying to "hide" our acquaintanceship from someone around us, because we always walk by ourselves in this location amongst a thick crowd of other students between classes. There would be absolutely no reason to hide it anyway, as all of our friends in common know we have met and are not on bad terms. She says hi with no trace of reluctance anywhere else except in this one area. This has persisted week in and week out for the entire semester. ☜

Last semester, as part of the journalism history course I was taking, I was required to write a 20-page research paper based on the analysis and synthesis of several sources, such as books, websites, scholarly journals and even television shows. This assignment was one of the toughest, most demanding, most time-consuming projects I have ever undertaken, and I spent about a full month doing it. The professor of the course in question also placed great emphasis on the paper, spending many class periods discussing it, providing tips and tricks to write it well, and even inviting guest speaker journalists to talk to the class about researching material. It was clear this was definitely not a throwaway or last-minute kind of assignment.

I completed my paper after several harrowing days and nights in a row of no sleep, no food, no social contact, and no regard for anything else in my life. Because my subject dealt with television, I had to watch 30+ episodes of TV shows and commercials. . . and I actually did. I turned in the paper, satisfied with my work, and peacefully went about with the rest of my semester. I knew not to expect a grade to be posted for a while; obviously, one professor grading the 20-page papers of an entire class would take at least a couple of weeks. As time went by, though, and as the deadline for final course grades loomed, there was still no grade for this paper listed. The semester actually ended without my professor having finished grading yet.

Eventually, she posted our final grades for the class, but not the grade for the actual paper. I couldn't go back and calculate the grade with the other grades I knew, because my final grade would have been the same regardless of whether I earned an A, B, or C on the research paper. The holidays came and went. The new year came (and went?). The next semester, this semester, began. And still, to this day, the professor has NEVER posted our grades for the paper. The paper I spent YEARS working on, the paper of whose importance she stressed ever so strongly over the months of being in that course, the paper because of which I did not consume solid food for weeks. Nothing. No grade. We just turned them in, she took them, and that was that. No further contact.

And that's it to this day. I just checked online again — still no grade. This assignment was supposed to be the pinnacle of our efforts in the journalism school, and. . . nothing. No feedback. No grade. No word back from the professor in any regard. Not even the slightest semblance of a reaction. I cannot even process this at all. It isn't anger I feel. Just complete shock. I am flabbergasted. ☜

Macy's has aired commercials for its "One Day Sale" week in and week out for decades. As a result, the sound of the One Day Sale theme song has become a groundwork for all other music I have ever heard, and the notes that comprise it are woven into the very fabric of my essence. I just. . . I cannot see the purpose of advertising a SPECIAL, exclusive, ONE DAY event such as a department store sale and then continuing to have that exact same sale every single Saturday of every single week of every single year for pure and utter DECADES. THIS IS NOT A "ONE DAY" SALE, YOU ARE ADVERTISING YOUR SATURDAY PRICES. YOU HAVE PRICES ON SATURDAY THAT ARE DIFFERENT FROM THE REST OF THE WEEK. NOW SHUT UP. ☜

Often, when teachers, camp counselors, or other people are babysitting children or teenagers, they'll play a simple, familiar game: ask the group trivia questions and give out prizes for the correct answers. Simple enough. Well, not really.

Every time I have ever played this game, I have struggled mightily with two distinct strategies I've attempted to use to win. Every time I have yelled out the correct trivia answer at the top of my lungs the moment the game leader has asked it, he or she has instead called on the student who is raising his or her hand calmly. Learning from this, the next times I would play, I would be that model student and politely raise my hand instead of screeching the answer. Only this time, the game leader would reward whomever they heard bellow out the correct response first. This happens EVERY SINGLE TIME I ENGAGE IN THIS SUPREMELY CHILDISH ACTIVITY. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO WAY I CAN WIN. Every time I employ one strategy, the counselor rewards the other. Even scrutinizing the counselor's personal character traits does nothing to predict their preferred playing style: it will literally always be the exact opposite of whatever I conclude. Even if I account for the opposite of my conclusion as being correct, it will then be the opposite of that new conclusion.

Now, account for the fact that this is STILL GOING ON IN COLLEGE. I "PLAYED" IT RECENTLY.

P.S. THE FREEBIES GIVEN AWAY WERE MOVIE POSTERS, ITEMS THAT ARE MARKED UP AT LEAST 1000% FROM THEIR ORIGINAL COST OF PRODUCTION WHEN BOUGHT IN STORE. ☜

In one of my government classes the other day, my TA opened the discussion for the week by quizzing the class, "What is the president's first and last name?" Then, in relation to the upcoming presidential election, "What is the challenger's first and last name?"

Most of the students had given up on this graduate student a long time ago; he was (and is) quite unskilled at commanding a class's attention. They did not answer him. But some of the class looked around, confused and almost giggling as they answered by reciting Barack Obama and Mitt Romney's names.

There was nothing more to that opening. The TA then moved on. I don't recall if he continued talking about the election or not, but he did not have any planned reason for asking us those questions. It wasn't as if he himself didn't know their names (he is not foreign), and he didn't ask to prove some kind of point or to segue into anything. He must have truly thought that these were somehow appropriate, thought-provoking, necessary questions for us.

No one else seemed to notice this interaction nor care, but I stared at him. What, in the name of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, was the utter PURPOSE of asking COLLEGE STUDENTS AT THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA THE NAME OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA?!?! I make fun of dumb people, especially at this school, as often as anybody. Even so, I will willingly admit that I don't think any student on this campus, much less IN A POLITICAL SCIENCE CLASS THAT HAS BEEN DISCUSSING THE ELECTION AND ITS CANDIDATES FOR MORE THAN A MONTH ALREADY, would not know the NAMES of those candidates. The NAMES at the very least. Policies, who knows. Accomplishments, definitely some doubt. Their political party affiliation, well, even that might be questionable. BUT THE NAME OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES? COLLEGE STUDENTS? AT THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA?!

THIS IS THE SCHOOL I GO TO. THIS IS THE SCHOOL I GO TO. ☜

I was curious about the ingredients in Febreze.

I consulted my local can of Febreze. The ingredients listed on the can are: odor eliminator, water, fragrance, non-flammable natural propellant, quality control ingredients.

. . . How does this communicate anything? This is supposed to be a list of INGREDIENTS. These words do not tell me what INGREDIENTS are in this product. A vague listing of broad, general descriptions is not a list of INGREDIENTS. "Odor eliminator" could be anything. "Quality control ingredients" could be literally anything. "Water" could be virtually ANYTHING. ☜

It is now October. Back in July, I purchased a ticket for a concert scheduled in November. I bought it many months in advance to avoid high prices, bad seating, the possibility of the show selling out, and, as anyone familiar with this blog would expect, having to deal with the millions of people on this planet who do not know how to do the very task they are hired for and expected to do every single day. I prophesied that there would be some kind of obstacle in purchasing this ticket, be it the company taking my address incorrectly or my payment not being processed or the ticket itself getting lost in the mail. I bought the ticket early, purely to give myself time to ameliorate the situation, whatever it may be. I knew deep down in my heart of hearts that something would go wrong.

And here we are.

I went to the band's own website to buy the ticket, never once entertaining the thought of dealing with any third parties. At checkout, my address was correct, the payment information was correct, and the seating, venue, date, and time were as I expected. I saw that expedited shipping was curiously the same price as regular shipping, so I chose it. The site listed expedited shipping as 3-5 business days, way more than enough time for the simple piece of paper to arrive before I left for college in approximately two weeks' time. I was content with everything and actually forgot about the order for a while.

Nine days later, I realized I hadn't received anything, so I wrote an email to "Cinder Block," the ticket distribution website. (Though I did buy the ticket from the band directly, they used Cinder Block and I figured if the band themselves employed the company, they must be reliable). It was a calm email I wrote, nothing angry or insistent.

Seven days later, a reply. "Fran O." told me that the ticket would be mailed 14-30 days before the actual show. To me, this was utterly ridiculous — what would be the point of choosing expedited shipping in this case?! I accepted the situation, but did voice a concern that I was not going to be at the same address as I had ordered from during that time. I asked if she could please change the address. Six days later, she said yes, and I sent her the new information. After that. . . nothing. No response. Ever. This was mid-August. I had no idea if she received my new address at all, or if she updated it, or if she did anything upon reading my email. I forgot about this entire ordeal for about a month while I started a new semester of college.

In mid-September, I revisited the email and remembered the frustration of never receiving a reply, the growing dread that my bad karma of blogging about negligent companies was somehow creating a mini universe for me where this sort of utter inexplicable nonsense was fated to occur over and over. Still I had heard nothing. I wrote another email to "Fran O." in the same message body as the prior ones. Nothing. I wrote the next day; nothing. I wrote four more times, and absolutely, positively, without question, not a thing.

I decided to call Cinder Block and a recording came on the line. Choosing the customer service extension led straight to Fran O.'s voicemail, over and over and over. I left a plethora of messages over time, which she never answered and probably never listened to. I chose a different extension upon calling the company the next time, the "0" for general inquiries, and it led right back to the same recording I had JUST sat through. I left a voicemail for another employee who also ignored it. Not once did anyone pick up the phone, or reply, or do anything at all.

I found Cinder Block on Facebook in two places and left them a wall post on each page. I tweeted at them about my situation. On both of these networks, there were several other customers complaining of similar mishaps — items not sent, or items lost in the mail, but most commonly, the company ignoring their calls altogether. At least I wasn't alone. But we all were, in a sense, because Cinder Block either ignored the complaints completely or tweeted back robotic replies, never apologizing or even acknowledging their customers.

EVENTUALLY, I did receive word on my order — but from the actual manager of the band, not from the company in charge of the order. He was polite in his explanation, but also went as far as to speak ON BEHALF OF SOMEONE FROM CINDER BLOCK. This person from Cinder Block was evidently too cowardly to address me like a man (thousands of miles away over email) and had to get the band manager to report to me that he would "figure it out." I have not heard back from that man or the manager since, even though I answered his explanation promptly. He has clearly not "figured it out."

Miraculously, I ended up solving this whole ticket issue myself. I just HAPPENED to remember another company's name being involved in the ticket order, so I went to their website and checked at random to see if I had an account with them. It turns out I did, and apparently, Cinder Block is merely the middleman connecting me from the band to the ticket supplier. I will receive my ticket at a specified future date, it says, but from someone else entirely — even though my entire transaction was handled by Cinder Block alone. Why this kind of setup is necessary in the first place is baffling, but even more baffling is this. . . .

~

. . . I live in an alternate universe from everything mankind has ever known. Other people on this planet who choose to spend their time, resources, and money contacting companies, purchasing products, joining clubs, speaking with advisors, getting involved with social activity, and attending a university, just do it. Their calls are returned. Their emails are replied to. Their orders are fulfilled. Their lives continue. Their problems are solved speedily, and perhaps with a smile. Sure, everyone has faced the stray inconvenient situation now and again, but I literally dwell in an alternate dimension where I cannot, for the life of me, seem to successfully complete the same mundane, everyday tasks that others complete with ease. PLEASE, someone break down and explain to me WHY if I am trying to do something that hundreds, thousands, or millions of others have already done, are doing, and will continue to do after me, in the EXACT MANNER expected of me by the entity in which I am doing business, without rocking, tipping, shaking, turning over, or otherwise disturbing the boat in any way, WHY is it utterly downright IMPOSSIBLE to GET ANYWHERE?!?!?! ANYWHERE!?!?!?!? ANYWHERE?!?!!?!?!?!??!?!?!1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1oneslashoneslash2two ☜

I've been to the Wells Fargo bank on campus quite a few times in the past couple of weeks. In general, the place looks like any other Wells Fargo — albeit smaller and more cramped. Behind the desk is a large display with a quote about the bank's commitment to courtesy, and next to that, a TV screen. That screen, for about three weeks straight, has had the same exact image displayed on it: a DVD menu for a college football championship game. Not highlights from the game itself, not images from the game, but just the generic DVD menu title screen. For WEEKS. If this image contained a Gators logo or the words "University of Florida" anywhere, I could understand the reasoning behind this strange choice of entertainment. But no, no orange and blue, no reference to the school at all other than the word Florida appearing very small at the bottom. The DVD is just sitting there, waiting for someone to acknowledge it, to press play, to choose a special feature, to do SOMETHING, ANYTHING at all. . . Instead, it just sits there, on for 24 hours a day (or however long the bank's power is kept on), completely unnoticed, completely ignored. It's a BANK, so what in God's name was the POINT of the manager or whoever putting on a football game DVD's menu on behind the teller counter?! There is literally no conceivable reason for this being done, at all. I am also 1000% sure that I am the only one who has EVER noticed or thought about this. ☜

This utterly irritating university I attend has a website called ISIS, which is the portal wherein every student selects their courses each semester. As it is used by literally every single student two or three times a year or more, one would think that the site would be built with the utmost pinnacle of user interfaces, have all information in one place, and have corrected glitches and other nonsense within the first year of their appearing. Well................................... you know what blog you’re reading.

Excuse me if I'm in the minority here, but I think that the main pieces of information a student would immediately expect to see on a course schedule webpage are the names of the courses, the days and times they take place, and in what building and room they're located. After that, perhaps, they'd like to see the number of credit hours each is worth, the name of the professor teaching each course, and any assigned textbooks. I hope I'm not straying too far off the mark in expecting those very SIMPLE details to be listed together, on one or even two separate pages. However, UF's ISIS does not do this all on one page, or even all on two pages. Or three. Or four. There are several different pages a student must bounce around between to learn all of the aforementioned information.

The landing page displays a barely-comprehensible block of courses together. Granted, it has most of the information, but the information is organized so poorly that one must continue to the next page to see anything. The "Weekly Planner Schedule" lists the course names, sections, days, and times in one calendar-like setup — but without the locations. The course map shows the locations, but rather than maintain that convenient calendar, it only shows a huge map and then a small box with the courses listed by LOCATION — requiring in constant scrolling back and forth to see all courses on a particular day. I know that a map and calendar would not fit well on one page, but a map is something students only SOMETIMES need, and should be an optional add-on that can be toggled on and off. Plus, on that main landing page, only the building ABBREVIATIONS are shown. Why a utterly huge corporate website with the capacity to present hundreds of high-resolution photographs cannot also fork over a bit of bandwidth to list the full name of a building and its room rather than an arbitrary three-letter abbreviation is beyond me and any realm of modern social science. It takes navigation between three different pages all showing the same details in different ways to finally learn what could've been easily understood in one. Not to mention, there is one area of ISIS to register for courses, and a completely different area just to view courses, without being able to register.

Then, textbooks are in a THIRD completely separate area, and it is only there that the professor's name can be seen for the first time!

In addition, when trying to register for a course that is currently full, ISIS does not always show results the same way. Sometimes, a fitting "No Courses Available" message appears in the search results, and sometimes, the course literally just doesn't show up at all. Even if it is a CONFIRMED, existing, currently-offered class, its listing will simply not appear, with NO EXPLANATION WHATSOEVER. This ambiguity also extends to online courses. Instead of having the listings for online courses say, as any kindergarten student can predict, "Online Course," it says "Time to be arranged."

"Time to be arranged" implies, to freshmen or other students new to online subjects anyway, that the course is going to meet in person, but that the time has not been arranged yet. RIGHT?!?! Nowhere does this communicate that the course will be online! So, these students may delay registering for other classes, choosing potential employment hours, or making any number of other schedule decisions while waiting endlessly for the time to be arranged. Am I missing something? IS THERE ANY REASON WHY ISIS CAN'T JUST SAY "ONLINE COURSE" EVERY TIME!?!?!?!?!?!

ISIS is not Grandma's first website. It is not a small, middle-of-nowhere diner that decided to create an online presence for the first time yesterday. It is a VERY HIGH TRAFFIC portal that tens of THOUSANDS of students use at LEAST two times a year and certainly more at a university that handles MILLIONS OF DOLLARS and churns out thousands of students skilled in graphic design, web design, and computers. The worst part isn't the existence of the problems themselves, but rather the fact that NOBODY SEEMS TO CARE WHETHER ANY CHANGES ARE MADE. EVERYONE JUST COMPLAINS TO THEMSELVES IN THE MOMENT AND THEN NEVER DOES ANYTHING FURTHER ABOUT IT! ☜

On the platform of the Miami-Dade Metrorail, there is a PA system, which you'd think would be used to deliver important messages or tell passengers when the train is approaching. The operators actually do announce when the train is entering the station, but when that isn't happening, the PA is then used to announce indecipherable, meaningless, inaudible NONSENSE. LITERALLY, the operator will come on the PA and just mutter very quietly as if the microphone is IN his mouth, for about ten minutes without stopping. There is absolutely no way to even BEGIN to understand what he is saying, and what's more, nobody even tries.

Come to think of it, I can't even imagine what there would be to say to the passengers in the first place. The upcoming destinations are announced very clearly by the conductor ON the train once it starts moving. A "don't forget your belongings" reminder follows as the doors open at the stop, and now the operators even say which of the two routes they are currently traveling. After all this, what could POSSIBLY be left to recite over the PA system for so many minutes at a time?!?! There is no way in utter hell that anyone can even remotely begin to comprehend what is being announced, and knowing versus not knowing the information seems to have absolutely no effect on anyone or anything. All of the "complicated" aspects of riding the train, such as paying and walking through the automatic gate, happen BEFORE the passengers even get to the platform with the PA. The only responsibility left to be done after entering the platform is to literally stand, wait, and step into the car when it arrives. That's it. Over several months of riding this train, I have never once decoded a single utterance from this constant barrage of gobbledygook, and have been completely unaffected as a result. ☜

Wanting to be an artist is a wonderful thing. I mean that truly. I enjoy the arts very much and love to see when others do, too. As such, I have noticed that many of my former and current classmates have developed interests in music, photography, and other fields and are now starting down their own paths in the arts. Everywhere I turn, it seems like someone I once had a class with is suddenly becoming a DJ or a singer or a rapper or a producer or a photographer or an actor. There’s no problem with this in theory. However, one ineffable quality I have seen common to all of these budding artists is that instead of, you know, going out and actually doing the art — singing the songs, writing the raps, producing the music, taking the photographs — they find it sufficient to merely create a Facebook page for themselves, spam all of their friends and family to follow them on it and every other conceivable social network, have tons of promotional pictures taken of them posing with a microphone or musical instrument, announce to the world that they are ready to be booked, and then start talking about their own career-to-be (and by this, I do not mean that they are pondering new ideas or thoughts or conceptions related to the craft, but merely reaffirming to themselves and others that yes, they are in fact artists, as if that simple declaration makes it so).

It would make perfect sense for someone who is intrigued and/or talented by a certain fine art to spend time learning it in some fashion and THEN share their achievements or express their creativity with the public, even if progress is small. But now, ridiculously, stupidly, everyone seems carelessly content to skip this initial, most important step of creation and merely promote and reiterate the idea of wanting to be the artist with no art to speak of.

Several years ago, everyone started becoming DJs. Yes, DJs, and out of absolute nowhere at that. I don't know if these people suddenly realized a natural ingrained "talent" or what, but everywhere you'd turn, random pimple-faced schoolmates would start advertising themselves and try desperately to be booked for parties. It seemed that the only qualification for succeeding at this hobby would be for the DJ to know some house music, mix a few songs that sounded decent together, and have the same beat loop for hours in between the different tracks. That alone warranted a dozen different graphics of the DJ's name, bookings, albums and albums full of photos of the DJ behind their equipment, and other utterly pointless but professional-seeming hoopla.

Another story of pure hoopla came in the form of a classmate of mine back in high school. An aspiring filmmaker, this gentleman would constantly take advantage of his position in some A/V class to hijack our morning announcements and showcase his personal home movies, which had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with ANYTHING relating to us or school. Though these films were silly, stupid, about nothing, and too quiet and rushed to understand, the guy had decent filmography skills. He created a "studio" and promoted it as much as humanly possible. He’s made a few five-minute projects, but over the course of years, all he has since done is change the name of this studio three times and then spam it out to kingdom come. Currently, his film company's YouTube page contains a few videos, but they mostly revolve around his friends joking around and playing silly games on camera. Around the time of his most recent studio name change, he messaged me personally asking me to support his page, even though we have never spoken in real life.

Some people don't even go that far with effort. For example, another former classmate of mine has, over the past few years, declared himself a music producer. He lists himself as "founder and CEO" of a production company, complete with a Facebook page. The page, however, has literally no content of any kind on it, other than a logo as the profile picture. The wall of the page is utterly blank dating back to its creation. This gentleman constantly posts pictures and statuses on his own profile reminding everyone of the work and dedication that goes into being a producer. Other than that, he has provided no other evidence of doing anything a producer does, whether it be creating any beats or working for a real production company. I don't mean to imply that he should be proving himself to me personally, of course, but it would just seem natural that someone who is promoting himself so strongly would be inclined to show off actual content along with the boastfulness.

This exact same framework is common to about a dozen other people I know who are trying to make it as singers or rappers. Many of them do in fact have strong and beautiful voices or a genuine rapping ability, so it is in essence a shame that all they seem to procure is a dozen photographs of themselves looking at the sky and constant repetition of how much they live for music, how they couldn't live without music, how music is their oxygen, how music is their god, how music is their soul, etc. And then. . . no music comes of it. In many cases, they never end up posting any music thereafter at all. Or, if they do, they only release a couple of tracks, and then, after the buzz has died down, they re-release the same material to regain attention. Of all the actual music I can recall being posted anywhere for potential fans to see, a good 90% are mere covers, and the rest. . . God knows what.

SO, BASICALLY. . . I don't even know what I want. But yes, everything is dumb.

P.S. Yes, Nonsense Report is an "artistic" "venture" just like the ones above. HOWEVER, as you can plainly see, this blog is full of rich content, and I only promote it sparingly. In fact, I often write new entries without telling anyone at all, so. . . yeah. I don’t need to defend myself to you, as nobody is reading this. ☜

Like many cable and satellite television providers, Comcast/Xfinity digital cable features a guide-like interface where a viewer can scroll through a full listing of channels and see all of the programs currently airing and those showing later. This is a widely known and commonly used feature. Time and time again, I have noticed a tiny envelope symbol appearing at the top of the screen whenever I access this guide on my grandparents' television. It's very nondescript and hardly noticeable to anyone, ever. But because there's no other explanation of the symbol's purpose, I'm assuming that it is indicating that there is some sort of new message to be read. This has to be what the symbol stands for, as there is literally no other explanation for its existence at all. However, not only is there no conceivable way to open any kind of inbox (let alone even highlight the envelope symbol in the first place), but what kind of messages would need to be sent or received through the CABLE GUIDE ON SOMEONE'S TELEVISION? I have gone on to see this envelope icon on EVERY single Comcast/Xfinity cable television listings guide on anyone's TV I have ever watched.

The fact that this symbol is so omnipresent, combined with the realization that no human being would ever attempt to communicate with anyone via television PROGRAM LISTINGS, leads me to believe that every user has a new message on their cable guide by default. My sleuthyness has also carried me into another state of enlightenment: the universal "new message" appearing on every subscriber's cable is probably from Comcast/Xfinity itself, and because my family members with this service would never in a million years do anything warranting TV screen communication from their cable provider, it's probably something as pointless and unimportant as a welcome message, introducing them to the service and describing how to access it or how it works (again, all a huge guess and/or assumption). BUT HOW CAN A CABLE USER BE WELCOMED AND TOLD HOW TO ACCESS A CERTAIN FEATURE IF THAT FEATURE CANNOT BE HIGHLIGHTED, CLICKED, SELECTED, OR ACCESSED IN ANY WAY?!?! FOR YEARS THERE HAS BEEN, AND WILL CONTINUE TO BE, AN ABSOLUTELY MEANINGLESS, VESTIGIAL ENVELOPE SYMBOL AT THE TOP OF COMCAST/XFINITY CABLE LISTING SCREENS WITH NO POSSIBLE METHOD OF REMOVING IT!!!!!! ☜

A little more than a year ago, this utterly dumb rumor circulated the internet, claiming that the children's TV channel Nickelodeon was "going back into the studios" to start making new episodes of beloved cartoon classics such as Rocket Power, Doug, Hey Arnold!, and others. It took the form of a (fake) news article, and it featured a quote by a supposed owner of the station saying basically that their current programming "sucks" and that ratings fell ever since the cancellation of those older, classic shows. The article said production would begin in March (of 2011). Despite the complete absurdity of the article's claim, the ridiculously unrealistic statement by the "owner," and the horrible writing in the article itself, many completely brain-dead morons believed the rumor word-for-word. I even chimed in when an acquaintance posted it, gently pointing out how it really couldn't be true and how simple research would easily prove Nickelodeon had no plans to reproduce old programs at all. The poster could not be wavered and continued to believe the complete and utter nonsense myth.

Well, a year has passed, and not only has the claim STILL not come true, nobody seems to even remember that it even existed in the first place! In fact, there are MANY online claims, predictions, promises, and stories that NEVER come to fruition and people still MINDLESSLY believe them EVERY SINGLE TIME. ☜

I have been ignored.

I've been ignored by the young and the old, the meek and the bold, the big and the small. I've been ignored by the very familiar and the most complete of strangers. I've already talked about how I've been ignored by bus companies, employers, and the help centers on social media. But beyond the faceless corporations, I've also been ignored by real, everyday people. The dean of my own college. Professors. Officers of clubs I belong to. Entire college departments. I've had people contact ME, only to ignore my replies when they specifically warrant more communication. I've called heads of college organizations at the phone numbers they have requested to be called at, left messages of utmost politeness and clarity, and have had them NOT returned. I have even had people tell me to call or email them at a specific time on a specific day, to which I've complied willingly, only for them to NEVER get back to me.

Start at the top, why don't I (by top, I mean the most important figure who SHOULD be answering). Okay. As usual per this time of year, I wanted to change my major, this time to telecommunication. I emailed the dean of my specific telecommunication track simply asking what I should do in order to change the major, and of course, he never responded. I then emailed another random person listed on the telecommunication major, and she forwarded my email back to the dean instead of just answering herself. He finally just wrote me a cold reply containing a phone number to call in order to make an appointment. Unfortunately, my absolutely insane phone hadn't been working properly for weeks, so I literally could not follow through with a call. I wrote back and told him this, and as expected, he ignored it.

Weeks later, a friend randomly told me that you could actually just stroll right in and meet with an advisor to change a major; scheduling an appointment formally was not necessary. I thought my friend must've been mistaken. The dean himself told me to make that phone appointment instead of just telling me to meet with anyone in person, and I naturally thought he would know how his own college works. It turns out my friend was right, and so I went into the office of telecommunication or whatever to finally change the major without an appointment. I was directed to the dean's office, where I had to sit and wait in a dumb waiting room as if he was a doctor.

Now, all this time, I had thought the reason the dean couldn't return emails promptly or at all was because he was so busy. Before seeing him, I pictured him as running around from office to office, meeting with people, teaching classes, or being otherwise very involved in the field of researching and studying telecommunication. What I found instead was the complete opposite: a large man sitting nestled in a very cramped office of pure and utter SQUALOR. Books were stacked in huge piles EVERYWHERE, papers were littered all over the desk and floor, there were too many trinkets on every surface of anything, and everything was coated with thick dust. What's more, he had a computer with two monitors and was SITTING AT THEM. When he finally called me in after HOURS, I noticed that he was actually ANSWERING EMAIL.

I told him about my problem and he, of course, had no idea who I was or what I was talking about. During our awkward discussion, I remembered that I had actually once written an email to him explaining that there was a glitch in the online degree audit system (basically, UF's website did not have my intended major's track listed in its database, making it impossible for me to know what classes to take). Well, he made it very obvious that he ignored this email, because while he was trying to help me change the major, he tried to access the very site I had told him didn't exist and was visibly confused when it didn't load. I had sent the email only days before. And yet, THE ONLY THING HE SEEMS TO DO IS SIT AT HIS COMPUTER ANSWERING EMAIL! I have been by the office for other purposes since then and found him in the EXACT SAME SPOT, ANSWERING EMAIL. Now that my major is telecommunication officially, I receive absolutely pointless (automated) emails from him EVERY DAY.

***

Next, I have been trying to schedule my birthright trip to Israel for, literally, years. I went to a student orientation for anyone interested months ago. It's not easy to be selected for a trip the first time you apply because of the sheer volume of applicants every year. But, the session was led by a very nice, friendly guy who promised over and over to do everything possible to make sure that every applicable student would be given a spot on a trip, no matter what. He made it very clear that no matter the situation, he would go out of his way to guarantee us trip placement.

At first, he was very helpful in answering my questions. However, as weeks went by, I hadn't heard back from anyone working for the program, and so I wrote to him asking why. He randomly texted me very late one night and asked if it was too late to be communicating. I told him no, it was perfectly fine. He said to call him immediately, as it was urgent. If I didn't get back to him by tomorrow morning, a trip spot he had in mind for me would be gone. I called him right away. No answer. I texted back. No answer. I wrote him an email the next morning explaining that I had tried to follow his exact instructions. No answer. Never an answer. I have written him more (unrelated) emails since, simply asking what I should do next to keep caught up with the process, all of which he has continued to ignore. However, I know he has signed into his email since then because I have received messages directed toward his entire mailing list (none of which actually concern me). This was a guy who PROMISED to do everything in his power to help us students and yet COMPLETELY IGNORES someone who is following HIS instructions EXACTLY. Ever since that incident? NO WORD FROM HIM AT ALL.

***

Want to go even simpler? That absolutely pointless academic society I ranted about back in March (WHICH IS NAMED DELTA EPSILON IOTA, BY THE WAY) had a secretary, whose only job in the entire club was to keep track of members' points. The club's president said many times to ask this woman about your number of points to make sure they were accurate. One day, I emailed her asking about my number of points to make sure they were accurate. ABSOLUTELY NO REPLY, EVER. Then, the aforementioned president emailed us club members about an opportunity for more points, but her email was missing some key details about what to do for it. I wrote to her asking for those details — ABSOLUTELY NO REPLY, EVER.

***

Lastly (although this is by NO MEANS the last guilty person), I had a professor who emailed his students many extra credit surveys. I took one of the surveys and it asked us to print the results, a highly unusual step compared to his many other surveys in the past. I emailed him asking if this was in fact necessary (as it was only for three dumb extra credit points). No answer. A friend of mine in the class said that he done the exact same thing — again, no answer. Yet, the professor was right back in his email system the next day to send more extra credit surveys, and in fact, sends email quite a lot.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY THE PEOPLE WHO ARE HIRED TO DO ONE THING AND ONE THING ONLY CANNOT BE BOTHERED TO DO THE EXACT ONE THING THEY WERE PUT IN THEIR POSITIONS TO DO! I HAVE ONLY EVER BEEN POLITE, RESPECTFUL, AND OBEYING OF THE RULES THEY THEMSELVES HAVE ESTABLISHED, AND YET I AM UTTERLY IGNORED BY OVER HALF OF THE "OFFICIAL" IDIOTS I TRY TO DO BUSINESS WITH. HOW DOES ANYONE GET ANYTHING DONE IN THIS WORLD>!?!?!?!?!?! BY "DOING IT THEMSELVES"?!?!?!?! BUT STILL, TO DO THAT, YOU STILL NEED TO INTERACT WITH DUMDUMS!!!

P.S. Here are a few more dumdums who didn't make the cut for this entry:

• I called the School of Theater and Dance in order to request taking some kind of class with them, no one answered and so I left a message. My call was never returned.

• I wrote to T.G.I. Friday's over a complaint I had with my meal, no reply ever.

• I wrote to MasterLock because I thought my bicycle lock was broken; the only reply came from someone who directed me to submit my complaint to a site that asked for information that the bike lock did not come with. I consider it not replying if I am only redirected to some dead end.

Also, remember that I have been ignored plenty of other times as covered in previous entries! Off the top of my head, I remember GMG Transports, Facebook, Lockerz, and other UF clubs as being the chief culprits. ☜

When I was younger, I attended the JCC for summer camp every year. One time while at camp, for some utterly unknown and utterly inexplicable reason, some guy (I have absolutely no idea who) came to the JCC gym for the sole purpose of making some kind of basketball shot. Apparently, making this certain shot would break some kind of world record, and the JCC basketball gym was where this record breaking was supposed to happen. I distinctly remember hundreds of campers piling into the gym bleachers to watch the event.

I don't really remember the rest, but the guy attempted maybe a full-court shot three times and finally made it on the third. . . I think? I don't really know. Then, everyone cheered. My question is. . . WHY?!?!?!?! WHY DID THIS HAPPEN?!!??????????!?!?!

What's more, a thorough internet search comes up with nothing — absolutely nothing — about this entire event. WHAT IN GOD'S NAME WAS THIS PURE NONSENSE?! ☜

There is something really stupid that's been going around the internet for quite some time now. I'm actually unsure of what to call it; the term "phenomenon" would imply that it is big or important when it isn't, and calling it a "joke" would be giving it far too much credit because it is not humorous at all. I'll settle on identifying it as a hypothetical exchange.

This hypothetical exchange has popped up over and over on social networks, usually in the form of an image. It is usually spread around by little dumdums. It's supposed to take place in a restaurant, and it goes as follows:

A server asks a customer, "Can I get you anything to drink?"

The customer replies, "I'll have a Coke."

The server asks, "Is Pepsi okay?"

The customer answers, "Is Monopoly money okay?"

I've seen many comments remarking about how true, funny, and relatable this utterly nonsensical banter is, with everyone obviously putting themselves in the shoes of the disgruntled customer. HOW!?!?!?!?! I mean, if this were to happen to you, what do you honestly expect the server to say??? You asked for something the restaurant doesn't have, and all he or she is doing is being helpful by offering you an alternative! What should the "correct" response be to your request? Just "no" and nothing else?!?!?! Or would you rather the server just bring the Pepsi without saying anything, knowingly giving you something you didn't order???

Even if the prospect of a restaurant not serving Coke riles you up to the point of making such a sly, unfunny remark, why would you direct it at the server, who very obviously doesn't have any say in the restaurant's beverage selection in the first place??? If you really need a Coke that much, aren't there billions and billions of other places on this planet where you can buy one??? Why am I spending so much time and effort discussing this absolutely absurd topic??? ☜

The word whoa is spelled "W-H-O-A." The word is not "woah." "Woah" is not an English word. Whoa is not spelled "W-O-A-H."

The word yea is pronounced "yay." It is not the correct spelling for the word "yeah." THE WORD YEAH IS SPELLED "Y-E-A-H." Yeah.

THE WORD TONGUE IS SPELLED "T-O-N-G-U-E." IT IS NOT SPELLED "T-O-U-N-G-E." "TOUNGE" IS NOT AN ENGLISH WORD.

Jesus H. Christ. ☜

Remember my previous entry, when I was talking about how the honor society that does absolutely nothing had at least ONE activity to lay claim to this semester? Well, I went to that activity, Relay for Life. For its entire duration. Neither the president nor the vice president of the society showed up at all. This was an overnight event that started on a Friday afternoon and ended a day later, Saturday afternoon. The president and vice president, who had for weeks been advertising Relay for Life as though it was OUR club's event, didn't even bother to make an appearance the entire time. There has since been no explanation or follow-up of any kind. I REST MY CASE. ☜

At almost this same time last year, I wrote about how I had tried joining different clubs and organizations on campus, many of which didn't seem to actually do anything. I recall a few readers remarking that I hadn't given the clubs enough a chance, or that my sample size was too small, or that I was only seeing the negativity I wanted to see. WELL, they were all wrong, because today I attended the cornerstone event, the epitome, if you will, of overrated, overhyped, all-talk-no-action, underperforming clubs.

Today was the new members' induction ceremony for a "student service organization" I sometimes attend. This "academic society" (as it is sometimes called) shall remain nameless, per my tradition. Suffice it to say that ever since I started attending meetings in January, the club has done absolutely nothing. I mean it. Nothing. There have been three meetings in total, each only around 20 minutes long. The content of the meetings consists of nothing but an icebreaker (pointless, as the executive board members to this day do not know my name even though I've played these icebreaker games at every meeting) and a discussion of upcoming "events."

Now, would anyone believe that other than the meetings I have just described, there have been absolutely ZERO other events or fundraisers so far this semester? ZERO. NOT A SINGLE ONE. There have been opportunities to table, but I don't count those as events because all that consists of is two members sitting at a table, trying to promote students passing by to join the organization. . . .

But wait! This is an INVITE-ONLY club! This society is only for the "top-performing students" at the university, and it costs SEVENTY DOLLARS to join! So what in God's utter name is the tabling for?!?!?! Is it to gather outside support for our events? No, because we don't have any! So what do tablers say? "This is our organization. We haven't done anything and you can't join. . . Bye."??????

Even though the club has done nothing so far, they do in fact have two upcoming events, but these upcoming events are so relatively insignificant that they do nothing to redeem the organization for its lackluster past three months. First, they plan to paint the 34th Street Wall, which basically means etching the organization name in spray paint (legally) on a large rectangular section of a wall facing the road. Fun as this may turn out to be, what's the point of promoting the club when it doesn't do anything and is invite-only? Seriously, think about it. Cars passing by will see the organization's name. Then what? There is literally nothing else that can come from that. This society is supposed to be about SERVICE, not pointless self-promotion.

The next event is the only one that can pass as a genuine attempt to do SOMETHING to help SOMEONE. The organization is planning on setting up a station as part of a much larger collaboration of UF clubs for Relay for Life, the American Cancer Society's main fundraising event of the year. They plan on taking students' donations, and in exchange, students can pie each other in the face. Cute. There's nothing wrong with this, but when I think of a service organization, I do not expect this to be their one and only event of the semester.

But anyway, that's it. That's all there is for the rest of the year, until the final meeting in April. Now back to that induction ceremony I went to today. . .

I was perplexed when I arrived to volunteer at it. Balloons adorned the hallway and the room itself. Students' parents showed up with cameras and were taking pictures of them. Most people dressed formally. There were guest speakers lined up to present. There was even classical music playing softly as guests entered the main ceremony room. What was this?! Why were people fooled into treating this induction ceremony like a graduation?! Over 100 students combined showed up to the two induction shifts, with about a hundred more also invited. Yet, at the meetings, less than 15 students ever show up! All of this pales in comparison to the utter LIES spewed by the guest speakers verbally when the presentations began.

APPARENTLY (not that you'd ever know it from attending the club meetings themselves), this organization is highly prestigious, highly exclusive, and was founded in order to help students get internships, careers, and graduate school admissions. It SUPPOSEDLY serves to help students perfect their academic profiles and whatnot. According to the guest speaker's rhetoric, this organization connects students to careers — not just by being another random line on their resumes, but by ACTUALLY making active steps to connect the members to employers. REALLY?!??! Because no one in this society has EVER, not even ONCE, EVER told me any of these things, never once mentioned any of this information. Not even an allusion, a reference, a one-liner inside joke, not ANYTHING. It's probably because, despite these very ambitious descriptions, the club in practice provides NONE of these services. The entire ceremony continued with more such descriptions. Guest speakers praised the members of the board for doing so much to keep the club running and the events organized, with an air of importance, of significance, and all of it was, and is, ABSOLUTELY FAKE.

Sure, this was just one instance, but really, CLUBS ON CAMPUS DO NOT DO ANYTHING. REALLY. EVEN THE MOST ESTABLISHED, WEALTHY, COMPETITIVE, POPULAR, IMPORTANT CLUBS DO LITTLE TO NOTHING. A few might outright admit this, which is noble, because at least most of them try to develop as much as they can with the few resources they're granted. But most, or, all the ones I have ever had the displeasure of attending, do nothing BUT ARE ENTIRELY UNAWARE OF IT AND PRETEND THAT THEY ARE CHANGING THE WORLD. AM I THE ONLY ONE BRAVE ENOUGH TO SPEAK OUT (TO MYSELF) AND NOT IDLY FOLLOW THE UTTER NONSENSE LIKE A SHEEP!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!? ☜

Student elections just happened here at UF. One issue that both parties seem to address year after year is that of expanding the Reitz Union, the main student union here on campus. The Reitz Union is home to restaurants, ballrooms, auditoriums, meeting rooms, stores, and other such amenities. The issue raised by almost every student government party over and over is whether students should pay to have it renovated and/or expanded. This issue has even been on the ballot, and is often a divider between the parties. What nobody seems to realize throughout all of this is that no matter what anyone decides — expanding it, renovating it, using student tuition, using other funds, or whatever m‐ NOBODY WHO CURRENTLY ATTENDS THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA WILL STILL BE HERE TO REAP THE BENEFITS OF IT.

Take the freshman voter. Freshman year is when he or she actually casts the vote, so its safe to say nothing will happen that same year. Let's say the vote to expand and renovate is passed. It will more than likely take at least a year to actually go through with and complete the construction (at least based on the early sketches that have been floating around). Even IF this task is finished speedily, that only gives the freshman two years to enjoy the new building, with a year (HALF that time) most likely spent being displaced to some other building to eat and attend functions. And that's only for freshman. Juniors and seniors, 50% of the target voting market, would be voting on the issue in (presumably) bigger numbers and be completely unaffected by it. They'd have already graduated by the time the renovations are complete! Sure, it's possible that as alumni they may return to enjoy the new Union, but this is a STUDENT government issue, and so that point is irrelevant. WHY DOES NOBODY REALIZE THIS!?!?!?!?! ☜

When two people are planning to do something as a couple, and a third person is then invited to join them, they might declare themself as feeling like a "third wheel," meaning not needed and uncomfortable. This is a common English idiom used by many. However, it really doesn't make sense. What people should mean to say in this situation is that they feel like a fifth wheel. I've heard both used, but it seems like people are more inclined to say "third wheel" simply because they would be the third person in the scenario.

You see, a fifth wheel, when added to a vehicle with four wheels, wouldn't serve much of a purpose. It would be superfluous, just as would the third person tagging along with the couple. But a third wheel, when added to a vehicle with two wheels, would actually do a lot. Imagine a bicycle, unable to stand and balance on its own. A tricycle, however, is able to. A wheelbarrow with only two wheels would either fall over sideways or have one end hit the ground. But adding a third wheel to the front, for example, keeps it standing securely. A third wheel IS purposeful; a fifth wheel is not. Yet so many people in this world use the term "third wheel" with absolutely none of this thought process. AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO NOTICES OR CARES ABOUT THESE THINGS?!?!?! ☜

Every so often while driving, I'll see an 18-wheeler truck owned by Cheney Bros. Inc, a food service distributor. There's nothing special about this at all except for the fact that on the back of their trucks, they have their slogan printed brightly. It reads, "Keep Your Eye [the eye illustrated by a drawing of a blue eye] on C-B-I." I've seen this slogan quite a few times, and it always makes me think. What is this slogan actually asking me to do? Does the general highway-driving population of the southeast United States have any reason to care about some random food distributor? Sure, the company may be responsible for food we all eat, but who is honestly going to keep his or her eye on this company? What would that entail? Are we to follow their business practices closely through their news? Are we supposed to subscribe to some kind of Cheney Bros. mailing list? Are we expected to call their company periodically and merely ask for some kind of information about their developments? Then, even if we were to do those things, what kind of responses should we expect to see? How would we know what to do with our findings, if we did find anything? How would we know what would constitute positive versus negative information? And, if we were unhappy after "keeping our eye on C-B-I," what could we possibly do about it? Not buy food handled by the company? How would we go about this? Ask every grocery store and restaurant to explain which companies handle their food distribution, and boycott certain ones? What if food we eat comes from a competitor, who is operating even worse than Cheney Bros.? Are we then supposed to boycott food altogether?

Maybe the slogan is nothing more than a name recognition tactic. By reading the rhyming phrase, we are more likely to remember Cheney Bros.' name. But even with the name remembered, how does that help us? We do no personal dealings with this company. Are we supposed to visit grocery stores and restaurants and now request them to use C-B-I instead of whatever distributor they were using? Would we see any effects at all from this change? Or MAYBE the slogan is directed solely at the unbelievably small percentage of people driving who actually are in the position to choose or keep records of a food service distributor? To that I say, stop annoying the rest of us. ☜

Months or years ago, there was a widespread panic in the world. Seemingly out of nowhere, it was rumored that the zodiac calendar was about to be permanently changed, and everyone's zodiac signs would suddenly be different. No one really took the time to figure out why this was; one person just announced it and many people just took their word for it. Apparently, the truth behind the myth was that because of location shifts in constellations, the zodiac calendar would be different starting with babies born on or after the announcement — it would not retroactively change anyone's preexisting zodiac signs at all. However, very few people took the time to research this fact. Everyone (online, at least) complained and revolted for a while. People passionately refused to acknowledge the new calendar. Then, a few weeks later, the entire ordeal was utterly forgotten. Now, in 2012, no one even knows if the whole thing went through or not. ☜

For some utterly unknown reason, the breadth of University of Florida's organizations, groups, surrounding apartment complex management, fraternities, sororities, clubs, and other movers and shakers think that the best use of their advertising and marketing budget is by making and giving out koozies.

Yes, koozies — those foam insulators designed to hold drink cans or bottles. Over and over again, I see people standing and attempting to draw attention to their club or event by giving out free koozies to passersby en masse. Koozies are everywhere: in bottoms of promotional bags, abandoned in corners of kitchen cabinets, flattened and unused in junk drawers, and even, sometimes, tossed away in garbage cans. Quite simply, NOBODY USES THEM. EVER.

It's not that the koozie is useless; it does seem to provide one simple service adequately enough. However, the times in life that one would need to use a koozie never correlate to the times or places people actually obtain them. During those rare instances when someone would think to use one, there isn't one around, yet they are seemingly everywhere whenever nobody needs them (which is most of the time).

Here's an idea! Why doesn't someone on this planet actually take the time to come up with ANOTHER promotional freebie? Maybe one that's actually useful in EVERYDAY life (other than PENS)?! You may think a koozie is a fun, cheap, effective way to reach your audiences, but chances are your message will end up buried at the bottom of a pile of a trash bag during spring cleaning, not wrapped around a popular student's choice can of beer at a huge party. I'M NOT A PESSIMIST — I'M A REALIST. ☜

Schoolyard children do and say many strange things. Some of their inside jokes have rhyme and reason, but many do not (and I do spend a large portion of my time studying the inside jokes of children, yes). One particular nonsensical quip that I used to hear very often as a youngster consisted of one person posing a question to the other — a question that, for some reason, made absolutely no sense whatsoever, yet was quite popular. It was almost like a riddle, and I will walk you through it. It begins with one child asking the other, "Are you afraid of a butterfly?"

The other child, completely undaunted by such a seemingly innocent and simple question, answers very casually, "No."

The first child, seizing the opportunity, suddenly claps his or her hands in the other's face. The other child will undoubtedly be a bit stunned by this, and probably at the very least blink in surprise. At this, the first child will exclaim triumphantly, "You blinked!"

Apparently, something as mild and ordinary as blinking, according to these very sound laws of logic, PROVES that the second child was lying and in fact afraid of a butterfly the whole time. Obviously, clapping one's hands in another's face IS the definition of a butterfly — and I do not mean a gesture named for the insect, I mean the insect itself. Clapping one's hands in another's face IS a butterfly. Really, this entire exchange is merely an outlet for the first child to act cleverer, stronger, and in every way superior to the other. Despite being unbelievably ridiculous, this bait-and-switch has established itself as completely sound, at least in elementary school. Even though I remember quite vividly remarking about how nonsensical it was when I was of that age, no one ever noticed nor cared. ☜

Chances are, if you've been out and/or about in the past few years, you'll have noticed that almost every company that deems itself relevant in this day and age makes use of the ever-ubiquitous, ever-annoying monopolistic websites, Facebook and Twitter. Fine, whatever. I don't want to sound hypocritical, because I myself use these websites, too. And I don't have a problem with a company having a Facebook page or Twitter feed, in general. I understand why they use the sites to connect with customers and make new ones. I ACCEPT THAT MUCH.

But you know what I DO have a problem with? The sheer degree to which society is absolutely obsessed with these frivolous time sinks. So obsessed, in fact, that the Facebook and Twitter logos are absolutely EVERYWHERE. It's bad enough, but still tolerable, that they're everywhere on the internet (blogs, company websites, etc.). But they have also crossed into the physical world, as I have seen them on restaurant menus, potato chip bags, sides of buses, backs of brochures, business cards, in television commercials, movie trailers, and in city graffiti.

The only thing more baffling than seeing everyone from local plumbers to box-making companies to insect repellent brands having Facebook pages and Twitter feeds is seeing the sheer number of people who like and follow them. It's astounding, actually. Not only are the companies' Facebook pages liked, their status updates are commented upon, their walls are written on, their pictures are discussed. . . WHY?!?!! Take the pages for Resolve carpet cleaner, Expo markers, Rubbermaid containers, and Heinz ketchup, for example. Each one is liked by the thousands, each piece of content more frivolous than the last. Yet each one commented on. The companies themselves post questions — just dumb small talk to get visitors to think about the brand (Clean up any big messes this weekend? ‐ Resolve or Finish this sentence for me! When I think of Rubbermaid, I think of products that…, for example) and PEOPLE ACTUALLY LIKE AND RESPOND TO THEM. I myself am an admitted time waster, but WHY DO PEOPLE HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO IN THEIR LIVES THAN LEAVE COMMENTS ON THE FACEBOOK PAGES OF RANDOM COMPANIES?! On January 3, Heinz Ketchup posted a status wishing everyone a happy new year, and the status received 4,171 likes and 83 comments!!! What is the audience GAINING from commenting on such a status?!

Oh, and Oral-B's Twitter has more than 8,600 followers. 8,600 people want to track the updates made by a TOOTHBRUSH company. That is all. ☜

In my freshman year of college, I lived with four roommates. These roommates were so insane, so socially deviant, so unbelievably out of touch with the world around them. . . I could've written a page-long entry on each of them individually. I wanted to rant about them more than any other subject all year. However, one of my roommates once told me that he had seen Nonsense Report (somehow), and so, I decided to hold off on writing about them until the end of the year. When the semester ended, I forgot all about it, and when I remembered again, their stories seemed like old news. SO, as a special New Year's treat, here it is: the long lost entry about my freshman year roommates.

During my freshman year of college, I was forced to live in an apartment rather than a dorm, because UF had completely run out of available rooms. This in itself was not a problem to me. What was a problem was that everyone I knew already had roommates chosen, and so I would have to live in an apartment with random strangers, instead of friends. The apartment complex I would be living in gave me a roommate-matching survey to try and pair me with "similar" future residents, but I distinctly remember the questions being absolutely irrelevant to compatibility. The survey asked such arbitrary things as, "When do you prefer to study?" (how does that affect anybody?) and "Are you quiet or loud?" (my answer could change directly based on who I live with!). Apparently, I must've given the wrong answers, because I was paired with four of the strangest, oddest, most insane, most socially awkward, most unfathomable, most downright unbelievably inscrutable people I have ever met. Their names? Mitchell, Fred, Mark, and Baba.*

I had the room closest to the living room. Directly next to me was Mitchell, a lonely and soft-spoken junior who should have literally been in a mental asylum. He spoke in such a deep, quiet, bass voice that he was incomprehensible 99% of the time. Not only was his voice itself incomprehensible, so were his topics of conversation. He would banter for hours with the other roommates and myself about things so painfully unrelatable that the only safe responses were either nodding along mindlessly or finding an excuse to leave the room. His interests included literally having back and forth conversations with himself, shutting his clothing drawers so loud that it sounded like they were coming from my own room, laughing maniacally to himself at 3 am every night, and blasting Kelly Clarkson's "Since U Been Gone" in his room at 4 am every morning. Every day at around 6:30 am, his loud cell phone alarm would ring for ten minutes continuously and he would never even wake up, much less turn it off. When I asked him about it, he denied that the alarm was his, even though it very obviously was.

For the entire time that I lived with him, Mitchell only updated his Facebook status to the same quote over and over: "What's future. . . what's past. . . the mere attachment that brings them together. . ." — nothing else, with absolutely no explanation. Curiously, I looked back through his news feed and discovered that his past statuses had ALL been nothing but this same quote, for YEARS. I once saw him at the gym, in full street attire, where he lifted a single weight for two minutes and then left.

Mitchell was also an aspiring singer: he would often sing gospel in the bathroom, not that he was any good. It seemed like he was mimicking what gospel should sound like, rather than singing naturally. (Fittingly, his conversations with himself turned into a back-and-forth routine of singing followed by critiquing his own voice). His most intolerable quality, though, was his smell. Mitchell, his room, and the hallway in front of his bedroom door all constantly smelled of the worst body odor imaginable, even immediately after he took showers.

Next up to bat was Fred, the de facto "leader" of our apartment in the areas of assigning "rules" and maintaining "order." He was more like a wannabe parent than a peer. Fred fit the most cliché, classic "dork" stereotype. (By dork, I DO NOT mean a lovable nerd or geek like Seth Cohen or Peter Parker.) Fred was a very pale white, tall, lanky sophomore. He was annoyingly talkative and always tried to speak as verbosely as possible. Though he considered himself open-minded, he would constantly give sarcastic, judgmental smirks when listening to someone talk. He would sit smugly, crossing a leg and making it impossible to ignore his constant wearing of black sneakers and white socks. Fred was interested in all things dragon- and eagle-related, loved obscure science fiction, the anime Yu-Gi-Oh!, and comic books. He despised most other forms of pop culture. Of course, I never have a problem with anyone having unusual interests — it was just the way Fred shoved his tastes on everyone else and rejected any of our interests that annoyed me.

During the first week of living together, he put an ugly sign in the kitchen that had a dragon and some quote on it. But soon after, he took down other roommates' attempts at decoration. He expected us to listen to him jabber on and on about Doctor Who constantly, but then, whenever one of us would so much as mention a song, he declared listening to music itself to be overrated. He also stole from us, so. . . there's that.

Let me explain: Fred was the grocery shopper for the apartment. We didn't all use the same groceries, but we agreed it would be convenient for Fred to pick up common items like bread and milk, and we'd reimburse him. Over time, though, we noticed he would charge us about $20 EACH every two weeks for nothing but a gallon of milk, paper towels, and white bread that nobody ate. We were obviously being duped, but when we confronted him about it, he only muttered something about faulty math as justification.

Worst of all, Fred had a girlfriend who was not only more insane than any of the roommates, she practically lived with us. A big woman, Janey never spoke. Ever. She was constantly just there. . . not doing anything, just sitting in our apartment. Nobody really knew anything about her, other than that she was quite awkward to be around. I once found her looking at a deck of Yu-Gi-Oh! cards over breakfast, while Fred blabbered on and on about the meaning of each card.

Janey's biggest claim to fame came one night when one of the more normal roommates, Mark, and I were having fun moving all of the furniture around the apartment and being loud. Janey stormed out of Fred's room and exploded at us, screaming, "CAN'T YOU SEE THAT SOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE?!" at the top of her lungs. We just stood there, gaping. Then, she went back into his room, closed the door, and never said another word.

A year later, I stumbled upon an editorial she wrote for The Alligator newspaper in which she blasted homosexuality as a choice and insisted that gay people should "just start feeling some attraction for the opposite gender already." Yeah. She and Fred are now engaged, by the way.

Next was the aforementioned Mark. Mark was hard to label, because he and I were relatively friendly over the year. We were both freshmen and had a lot of fun playing pranks on the other roommates. He was not a bad guy, and we had some things in common, but I noticed over time that it was only when we were making fun of the other roommates that he really seemed interesting in talking. When I steered the subject to anything else, he grew bored. Over the year, he gradually changed from a goofy, kid-at-heart to a snobbish bodybuilder, which was disappointing. He also borrowed my copy of the seventh Harry Potter and never returned it. I have since seen him around campus and tried to be friendly, but he has pretended not to see me every time.

Last but not least was Baba. What to say about Baba? Baba was not mean-spirited or annoying. He was not even a nuisance, really. He was just exceedingly socially unwell. Baba was very quiet, mysterious, and may have been an international student from somewhere in Africa. He didn't really know how to have conversations, and any time anyone would greet him, he would look up and immediately look back down in apparent shyness. Whenever he walked anywhere, he would always look straight down at his feet. He never looked anybody in the eye, and once told us that he never looked at girls — literally, he never OBSERVED girls with his eyes, even casually — because he was afraid of "lusting after them."

Whenever Baba brushed his teeth, he would put his whole head in the sink. He once tried to cook ramen noodles by heating them up in the oven, completely dry, resulting in the fire alarm going off and a smell of smoke present in the apartment for weeks. Once, Baba got overly excited at the fact that Disney bought the rights to Marvel, for some unknown reason. Above all, Baba was deeply religious. His Christian faith was so important to him that he "struggled with sin daily" (his words) and often felt extreme anxiety about it. All I can say is. . . poor Baba.

I had to spend an entire school year, my second and third semesters in college, living with these colorful, insane characters. I had to come home every day and see these faces staring back at me. I had to use showers they had just used, sit on couches they had jut sat on, and see their faces waking up in the morning and before going to sleep at night. I think the descriptions speak for themselves. If you sum up my past entries throughout freshman year with the notion that I also lived with these people, you will see why I have been so uncomfortable in college. But I’m not angry now. It's not like these people set the stage for how my entire college experience would be. It's not like they were partially responsible for the reason I huddled in a fetal position every day of my freshman year. No, I am not angry. Not angry at all. ☜

(*Names have been changed to protect them — they can't afford any further negative publicity.)

For a few years now, I have been coming across "party editions" of popular Dr. Seuss books wherever books are sold. These books, including Green Eggs and Ham, Horton Hears a Who!, One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish, and others, are exactly the same as their original counterparts except for a new shiny foil cover and "PARTY EDITION" printed underneath the title. There is definitely nothing wrong with the books, and the foil covers are nice. But what in God's name does party edition mean? Are these books supposed to be. . . read. . . at parties. . .? Reading books aloud at a party is something only I would go for, so I'm guessing not. I heard the shiny covers were to commemorate the anniversaries of the books, which makes sense, as Green Eggs and One Fish recently celebrated their 50th anniversaries of being in print. However, Horton was first published in 1954, so why is it included, then? Also, why "party edition" and not just "50th anniversary edition" or something? Really, this whole mystery is driving me crazy and would be completely pointless if the publishers would just explain what ANY OF THIS MEANS. ☜

Several weeks ago, I saw a custodial truck being driven around UF campus by, presumably, a custodian of some sort. The truck was clearly an older model Dodge Ram pickup. However, on the front grille, underneath the standard ram's head logo, someone had affixed the red script logo of GMC. The truck now bore the logos of both companies. This was something that somebody must have taken the time out of his or her life to do. What to utter DEATH was the point of doing this?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?! ☜

Years ago, a friend and I were browsing the Internet, looking for our old elementary school classmates' Myspace profiles and such. We stumbled upon the profile of a friend, who will for now remain nameless. We noticed that his self-appointed Myspace URL contained a corruption of the phrase, "rap sucks big time." The content of his profile was decorated with all kinds of heavy metal, rock, marijuana, South Park, and Jackass paraphernalia. If I recall, his "About Me" section contained another reference to rap music sucking. However, his list of preferred musical genres in his "Music" section contained — and I am paraphrasing — "HEAVY METAL, ROCK, SCREAMO, HARD ROCK, AND SOME RAP."

And some> rap?!?!!?! YOU WANTED THE WORLD TO KNOW MORE THAN ANYTHING THAT "RAP SUCKS BIG TIME," BUT AFTER ALL THAT, YOU ACTUALLY DO ENJOY SOME RAP?!?!?!!? BUT YOUR UNCHANGEABLE MYSPACE URL, OF ANYTHING IN THE WORLD YOU COULD MAKE IT, IS ANOTHER REFERENCE TO RAP SUCKING?!?!! Like. . . WHY. Really? WHY. ☜

While surfing through random satellite TV channels a few nights ago, I came upon a guide listing for Thespians, a new documentary film about high school Thespian troupe competitions. Though the channel it was on was blocked and I couldn't actually watch it, I immediately recognized the film for the simple reason that MY high school was one of the four schools followed by the filmmakers for the project. I distinctly recall everyone in my drama class being excited when this filming happened: we had to get release forms signed, we were followed all around by cameramen on the day of a Thespian competition, and, from what I've heard, some students were even pulled aside to be interviewed. All in all, the operation seemed wholly legitimate. At the end of the day, the filmmakers thanked us and (I assume) told us they'd let us know when the documentary was complete.

As I sat and stared at the description of Thespians on the screen, I realized that nobody ever ONCE mentioned the documentary since the day we were filmed. We were never updated about it, EVER. I recall people wondering aloud about it in class a few times; the general consensus was that the project was probably still in production, or canceled. Now, here was the film, finished and actually being aired on satellite television, and STILL nobody EVER announced to us it even still existed! Not only that, but nobody in our troupe to my knowledge was ever even compensated (not necessarily with money, but in ANY WAY) for their appearances.

WHY?!?!?! According to the description, only four schools were followed for this documentary. The documentary was ABOUT the students — they weren't just filmed to add some color to a film about something else. The story was literally ABOUT the students' competitions and no one even informs them that the film was completed and aired on television?!?!?!?! WHAT KIND OF SOCIETY IS THIS?!?!?!?!?!?!! ☜

My can of Walgreens shaving cream boasts about how it features a rust-resistant bottom. This would be a nice feature if not for the fact that the entire TOP of the can, including the dispenser part where the shaving cream comes out and the can's cap, are absolutely covered in rust. Why the manufacturers can't simply apply the same materials and technology they used to make the rust-resistant bottom to the top is by far the greatest enigma-wrapped mystery humanity will ever face. ☜

"Everything" bagels do not tell the truth. "Everything" bagels don't have "everything" on them, nor do they even come close. Every "everything" bagel I've ever seen or eaten has been nothing but a plain bagel covered in various seeds. What's more, despite being drenched in seeds, "everything" bagels don't even have every KIND of seed on them; poppy seeds are notoriously absent. Also missing on the "everything" bagel are, among other things, pieces of lox, chives, chocolate chips, raisins, volleyballs, doorknobs, air conditioning units, hair scrunchies, and methamphetamine. ☜

One random yet VERY common trope in television and movies is this: two characters will be in a room. One character will be trying to hide something or somebody from the other character. As this first character silently hopes that the second character will leave the room, they will be forced to pause and make conversation, pretending not to be up to anything suspicious, until the other one does indeed leave them alone. Then, as soon as that second character walks out and shuts the door, the first character immediately returns to whatever secret they were hiding or working on, freely putting it out in the open. Think about it. This scenario has been repeated in stories dozens and dozens of times.

My question is this: why do the respective first characters in the above situation, time and time again, return to their secret plan or project IMMEDIATELY after the second character leaves the room? Can't they wait thirty seconds at the very least to make sure that the other character is really gone? That second character could EASILY turn around and return to the room for ANY purpose — to say a last word, retrieve something forgotten, or a MULTITUDE of other reasons. Even if they had no reason to return to the room of their own accord, the very sound of the first character stumbling around and fussing to quickly return to the secret would surely prompt the second character to feel at least a tad suspicious. Yet, EVERY TIME, the first character gets away with what they were trying to do unscathed — ESPECIALLY when the second character turning back to check would've led to utter DISASTER. EVERY SINGLE TIME. ☜

At UF's Library West, there are two large printing and photocopying machines for anyone to use off to the side of the second floor. There is a large sign posted above the first one, saying, "I'm a photocopier AND a printer!" as if the machine itself was saying it. Above the second one, there is a sign saying, "Me too!" as if the other machine was hearing and responding to the first. However, both of these bubbles are illustrated as THOUGHT bubbles, rather than the obviously-intended speech bubbles. Thus, there'd be no way that the second machine would be able to know that the first one made that declaration in the first place, and as such, no way for it to agree. That is, unless we are to believe that — ridiculously — talking printers/photocopiers are also telepathic, a concept so laughable that a new genre of fiction was born from it as soon as I finished typing this sentence. ☜

Apparently, today is "College Colors Day."

According to one single poster quietly displayed in the front of the UF Bookstore, September 2 is College Colors Day, a day wherein college students all around the country are supposed to just wear their college colors. And that's it. It's not like there's any sort of fundraiser behind it. No one is benefiting from the "event," and no one is at the very least even judging each school to see who is most spirited. Nothing is supposed to come of the event at all. The purpose of the day is for students to just wear their college colors, simply for the sake of wearing them.

There is also an entire website devoted to the day, a website that looks quite professional but is composed of nothing but fluff. It basically says everything I've just said, showcases a few measly and dumb photographs submitted by students celebrating the day in years past, and —just as I suspected — links to purchase merchandise from a variety of retailers. So THAT'S what this whole utter nonsense is about: a contrived marketing ploy by collegiate apparel companies to sell their merchandise to college students — exactly the kind of manipulation there's way too little of in our materialistic society!

Not to anyone's surprise, my fellow students' clothing choices today were absolutely no different than that of any other day. UF students typically do wear orange and blue in obnoxious quantities, but today was as uneventful as could be. I surveyed several friends to find that none of them had even heard of the event. According to the College Colors Day website, the "holiday" has been going on since 2005. Pathetic. No one knew nor cared about College Colors Day, and for that, I was very happy. ☜

This deserved an entry of its own.

While I was working at Michaels, the store radio would remain on all night, playing the store's predetermined mix of "feel-good," sure-not-to-offend, sappy, corny oldies songs, without interruption. Ordinarily, this would probably irritate me a tad but I don't think I'd grow to care that much. HOWEVER, this Michaels store played the SAME EXACT MIX OF THE SAME 25-30 SONGS FOR TEN STRAIGHT HOURS, FIVE NIGHTS A WEEK, FOR FOUR WEEKS. Just imagine how many hours that is. We were literally forced to endure the torture of the same cheesy, DUMB love songs endlessly, with no relief of any kind until the night was over. In addition to "Let's Hear It for the Boy" by Deniece Williams, the highly scary "Stay" by some goth group called Shakespears Sister [sic], "You Won't See Me" as covered by Anne Williams, "Breakaway," by Kelly Clarkson, "MoneyGrabber" by Fitz and the Tantrums, "The Letter" by the Box Tops, and other utterly annoying, uninspired drivel, two songs in particular were played about ten times as much as every other one: "She Drives Me Crazy" by Fine Young Cannibals and "It's the Same Old Song" by the Four Tops. They were played so unbearably often to absolutely no avail, so much so that every employee in the store could identify them within one or two drum beats in no time. "She Drives Me Crazy" began with two piercingly cheesy 80s-style guitar riffs which repeated throughout the song underneath wholly indecipherable murmured verses. "It's the Same Old Song" had an unbelievably irritating melody progression and was accented by a constant high-pitched squeal whenever the singer sang the word "memory," which was often. In fact, most of the store's songs contained strange voices, screams, squeals, or horribly annoying pronunciations of words, as if designed purely to drive listeners insane.

At first, we prayed that the music would be changed by one of the day managers in due time. This never happened. To cope, many employees decided to listen to their own music players. This was only a slight fix as the store radio could still be heard very loudly even over our strongest of earbuds. Later, many of us just appealed to turn off the store radio system completely, but one of the bosses turned it back on for good. She thought the highly-used intercom system was connected to the radio (it wasn't). One particularly brave employee actually ignored the radio's DO NOT TOUCH signage and removed the music CD itself, replacing it with another one, BUT THIS DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING — THE SONGS CONTINUED TO PLAY AS IF CONTROLLED BY A PHANTOM. So, we were forced to listen to the music to utter DEATH.

We went through strange phases over the weeks. We'd hate the songs, then we'd slowly grow to accept them. Then we'd sing along, and we'd love them for a while. Then we'd come back the next week with the realization that they were there to stay for another week and the cycle would begin again with refreshed hatred. It was like Stockholm syndrome, or something else from a book or movie, you know?

THESE SONGS WERE PLAYED SO OFTEN THAT I FOUND MYSELF DREAMING ABOUT THEM, HEARING THEM WHEN THEY WEREN'T ACTUALLY PLAYING, AND BRINGING THE VERSES INTO EVERYDAY CONVERSATION!!!!!!!! I HAVE LITERALLY MEMORIZED EVERY LAST INSTRUMENT, WORD, BREATH, SOUND EFFECT, AND INTERVAL OF SILENCE ON EVERY ONE OF THOSE SONGS.

When I say we employees were literally tortured with the music, I mean it. We literally underwent psychological torture. Not figuratively. ☜

At long last, after blood, sweat, and tears and endless, unbelievable frustration, I have found a job. YES, it's true, and even I can't believe it. I was ignored and mercilessly forgotten by 99.9% of the employers I applied for, but ONE on this utterly godforsaken planet did bother to interview me, and I was eventually hired.

Michaels was the name, being completely littered with misplaced merchandise and candy wrappers was the game. The arts and crafts store was undergoing a complete store renovation, and it needed to hire about two dozen people to work overnight so that the renovations could be completed in four weeks. It all had to be done overnight so that the store could remain open during normal hours and continue to sell broken, half-stolen art supplies with dried paint on them and ripped, torn, odorous fake flowers to soccer moms.

I showed up on the first night and, surprisingly, there was actually very little nonsense to behold. Other than the ungodly hours of 9:30 pm to 7:30 am weeknights (which I knew full well upon accepting the job), the actual work was very mundane and effortless. The basic routine of that night, and every night thereafter, saw every renovation employee assigned a certain job and had them basically go about doing that job for as long as it took. The jobs included tearing down certain sections of an aisle, building them back up, installing or removing shelves from walls, stocking or throwing away merchandise, and sorting random garbage in the back room.

At first, the work seemed to go by smoothly. Every task was clearly defined and all the resources necessary to complete it were provided. However, as the days went on, things started to slide. Equipment used to build up or stock shelves, for example, just wouldn't be at the store. It hadn't disappeared — it just utterly wasn't there to begin with. There would be sections of our assignment packets calling for merchandise that just purely did not exist. And, more often than any other problem, completely random items would be strewn all over the store and it'd be completely impossible to find where they really belonged. We'd ask our bosses for help every once in a while, but more often than not, their advice would be to simply "leave it like that for now," wherein the word "now" was highly subjective. None of these problems actually riled anybody up; everyone instead just went about doing their jobs as well as they possibly could while counting down to quitting time. What's utterly nonsensical about the entire situation is that nobody — not the renovation bosses, not the store manager, and apparently not corporate — seemed to care whether we actually did the jobs correctly or not. The work was never checked, other than when one of our bosses would casually walk by and glance at our sections for a brief moment. There would be absolutely no consequences or repercussions if we were to do every last task completely wrong. The jobs we did were not recorded anywhere with our names, and so there'd be no individual liability for something installed incorrectly or dangerously. This utter slack made it quite easy for me to HYPOTHETICALLY fool around and waste time.

Now that the four weeks on the job are complete, I can report that Michaels was lucky enough to hire honest, hardworking people who did their jobs as accurately as possible. At the same time, I can also say that there were SO many items out of place, missing, accidentally thrown away, accidentally boxed up, not thrown away when they should have been, boxed up and sent to the wrong destination, and God knows what else. Oh, and messes were left EVERYWHERE. Apparently nobody really cares, though, and neither do I. ☜

On a voting ballot, there is usually a space underneath the list of candidates for voters to write in candidates of their own so they can vote for someone who isn't already listed. No one ever expects a write-in candidate to have any kind of shot at winning whatsoever, but presumably, such a candidate could hypothetically win if enough voters wrote his or her name in, right? So, what if this happened? What if enough voters did actually support the same random citizen enough to write in his or her name and win him or her the election? The ballot only calls for the first and last name of the write-in, and no other identification of ANY kind. No address, phone number, age, ANYTHING. If that person were to actually win and had a reasonably common name, how would he or she EVER be identified?!?! How would the government ever be able to determine WHICH individual named John Smith or Bill Johnson or Mary Williams was the one intended by the voters?! Were they all voting for the SAME William Maryson, or were they all voting for different people that just so happened to share the name Pip Miller-Rosales?! There is absolutely no way to pinpoint which individuals the write-in names represent, SO WHAT IN GOD'S HALLOWED NAME IS THE POINT OF INCLUDING THE SPACE?!?!?!?!??!?! ☜

Several months ago, I took an airplane trip to Georgia for a wedding. We were served cans of soda on the flight, and when we were done, the flight attendants walked through the aisle collecting trash. My mom and the other person in our row gave the waiting attendant their empty cans, and then he asked me for my can. I politely told him that I wasn't finished yet, to which he said, "Okay, come on already, I have more people to get to," and reached his hand out impatiently. Too bewildered to repeat myself, I had no choice but to throw away my Diet Coke on the spot FOR NO REASON AT ALL. ☜

I like thinking about my many years in elementary, middle, and high school, sometimes every single day. One particularly dumb, quite trivial concept I remember talking about several times over the years was "visual, auditory, and tactile learning." In many classes, teachers would explain to us that students learn in different ways. Some learn by seeing the information presented visually, like through images or just by seeing it on a chalkboard. Some understand the information better after hearing it spoken aloud or by putting it to music. Some absorb information if they can somehow build or hold something in their hands to learn it. Conversely, they also said that while many students are strong in a particular type of learning, they might be equally WEAK in another.

This was all very interesting to learn, I guess, but after describing it, my teachers never actually DID anything differently. After going right out and saying that many students were probably NOT able to learn well with a particular style, they continued teaching with the exact same styles as always without a second thought. Now maybe those visual- and auditory-minded students lucked out, because writing notes on a board whilst reading them aloud is typical in the classroom. Those learners are covered. But what about tactile learners?! When are they ever given touch-based lessons or homework? Waiting half a year for one frog dissection or solar system diorama isn't enough to get by the huge daily workload of everything else, bro. And you know what? Those dissections and dioramas often involve a listening or reading and writing component.

What about English and math? If my memory serves me correctly, I was never taught algebra by kneading Play-Doh. If teachers are going to take the time to introduce the idea of tactile learning — which in reality was pointless — why are there barely any facets of education in which it can be used!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!1/1/1 ☜

If I were to be caught breaking the law, using the excuse that I didn't know I was doing anything wrong would obviously not suffice. Because ignorance of the law is no justification for breaking it, hypothetically, if I want to go out into the world and do things freely — any kind of activities or pursuits — I should understand and be aware of every single law there is, right? If not, I'm basically risking fines, an arrest, and even jail time for possibly breaking some random regulation. So let's say I do want to learn, understand, and abide by every single law in this city, state, country, and world. Is it even possible to look them up anywhere? Sure, many obvious crimes such as stealing and murder are common knowledge to everyday people — but what about the odd, obsolete, outdated, and downright insane laws? If I truly want to learn them so I can be held accountable for following them, how am I supposed to actually do so?!

A quick internet search shows no obvious location where every law is posted, but let's pretend that I don't have Internet access. I have to resort to going to some kind of library or city hall solely to obtain and read law books. Simply leaving my home and stepping into public space, driving or taking public transportation, crossing public roads or sidewalks, entering and exploring public buildings and talking to the employees therein, and handling the law books themselves all require me to follow DOZENS of laws at any given time! At any point along my journey, I could already be breaking them without knowing it. Yet, if I were charged with any such crime, my perfectly reasonable defense that I was unaware of, but en route to study up on, the law I was breaking would hold absolutely no weight! SO WHAT EXACTLY AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT THAT?!?!?! ☜

It's summer break for me now. Like any rapscallion home from college, there's no more perfect time for a seasonal job. Unfortunately, as I'm sure I've made it quite clear by now, simple life milestones such as going to school or getting a job are downright IMPOSSIBLE for me to do. Over last summer and this summer combined, I have applied to work for more than 25 different jobs, and I have never, not ever, not even ONCE, EVER, NOT ONE TIME been contacted by any employer, EVER!

These are not CEO, managerial, or internship positions by any means. I have only submitted applications to work in the most entry-level, basic, "easily obtainable" jobs such as clothing stores, retail stores, and restaurants. I am a high school graduate and current college student with experience (though none of this experience has come from ordinary public jobs). Whenever the job application websites ask me if I can work independently, if I can listen carefully to the customer, if I am dependable, and all that nonsense, I ALWAYS answer exactly what the company wants to hear while also answering truthfully. From what I can tell, I've always applied for and submitted these applications exactly by the book, exactly the way the company wants, and exactly the way the instructions state. SO WHY ON GOD'S DUMB EARTH are high school dropouts, insane people, dumdums, and people with no experience of any kind able to get jobs but not me?! HOW CAN I EVER GAIN EXPERIENCE TO GET BETTER JOBS IN THE FUTURE IF I CANNOT EVEN GET A BASIC JOB FROM WHICH TO GAIN EXPERIENCE?! And why have none of my references ever once been contacted, either?!?!?!?!

After doing some heavy "research" into the subject, I have learned from quite a few "inside sources" that in order to get a job, one must call the employer a short time after submitting the application to "verify that it was received" and "ask about the application's status." While I acknowledge that this can probably help, I REFUSE to believe that the difference between being contacted and being ignored by all of these dozens of employers over the span of a year rested solely on my calling to "check on" the application — especially after the website confirmed I sent it, a follow-up automatically-generated email confirmed they had received it, and the website itself clearly states THEY WILL CONTACT YOU if you fit the bill of their job opening! If I'm told the company will contact ME, why should I believe the COMPLETE OPPOSITE in that I have to first contact the company in order to hear anything?! Is this supposed to "prove" that I really want the job?! Did my spending two hours telling them the personal details of every man, woman, and child I have ever completed work for not illustrate that enough?!?!?!?!?! If I was applying to be a CEO, I could definitely understand such unwritten rules, but I'M APPLYING TO BE A FREAKING BUSBOY. I SHOULDN'T NEED TO SUCK UP TO EMPLOYERS TO PROVE HOW MUCH I WANT THE JOB. DOES NOT CALLING THEM TO FOLLOW UP WARRANT BEING COMPLETELY IGNORED BY OVER TWO DOZEN EMPLOYERS?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!

P.S. Last summer, one job opening I applied for was to be a test proctor at Miami-Dade College. I know, it sounds ridiculous. And it was and probably still is. They actually responded, telling me I should expect to hear back from them with their decision. So, I patiently waited. ON THE VERY LAST DAY OF SUMMER, I received an automated email telling me my application had expired. ☜

[REDACTED]

Why haven't I written in so long? Well, because nobody reads this. Nobody is even reading this very sentence right at this very moment.

Anyway, over the past two semesters, my time and experiences at the University of Florida have gradually evolved. I used to find the nitty-gritty inconveniences and petty nonsense to be insurmountable barriers to me truly enjoying whatever it was that the school had to offer. I was just turned off so deeply by every bad experience I had had here that I no longer had any desire to get involved with UF in any way. This year, after realizing that transferring to another school was no longer a possibility, I decided to just close my eyes, grit my teeth, and give UF a legitimate second chance. That's what everyone kept telling me to do (and will probably continue to tell me). "If you change your outlook, everything will change. . ." something something.

I actually tried this, but unfortunately, nothing changed. There is no hidden trove of laughter, memories, growth, friendship, or life experiences waiting to magically be found just because I decided to don a pair of rose-colored glasses. You see, between these two semesters, I had aspirations to get involved with five different organizations: two concurrent seasons of theater shows, a sketch writing club, an environmental club, and an advertising society. For one reason or another, every single one of these ventures has been a flop. To those who think I'm simply perpetually disappointed, you are quite mistaken. Read on.

First was theater. Last semester, I wanted to audition for UF's theater season, as non-majors often do. The second week of school, I happened to run into a friend of mine and former theater major who informed me that the auditions had already passed. They were held the first week of classes. THE first week. Well, the first week of classes was when I was trying to figure out what I was still doing at this godforsaken school, not looking into the theater season yet. So, I missed it. But I made a mental note that the very first week of the next semester, I'd be prepared.

In the meantime, I successfully auditioned for that other theater season, which was put on by a smaller club. I was called back, but not cast in anything. I can't complain about that, because that's just a part of theater. Unfortunately, it wasn't like I could "do more" with the club in consolation. I tried to stay involved with them anyway by volunteering to tech one of their shows, and I was treated like an intruder. Only three out of the dozen people involved in the production even knew who I was (though I knew them), and the rest never bothered to strike up a single conversation with me. The three people I knew talked to me, but only out of courtesy. I didn't make new friends or even enjoy myself throughout the entire process.

Then, when it came time to audition with this same club again for the following semester's season, the auditions were held the two nights before Thanksgiving. If I were to have stayed those nights, I would've had to find some ride home on Thanksgiving Day, which would have most likely been a bus leaving at 1:30 at the earliest. I would've probably arrived home at 6:30 p.m. My family's Thanksgiving dinner started promptly at 4:00. So I'm sorry, but I'm NOT EVER going to stay the two nights before Thanksgiving and sacrifice a portion of my break to audition when I already stay up planning every second I can get away from this town!

At any rate, I still had new, upcoming auditions for that first theater season to look forward to. I came back from winter break this January to find that those auditions were not held the first week like they had been last time — they were held in the MIDDLE of last semester! So, not only was I late the first time, but when I prepared early to compensate for my mistake, I was late again! And, by the way, these things are NOT POSTED ANYWHERE. I only heard about both missed dates through friends who just so happened to be talking about the auditions when I was around. Even if they're posted in the theater building, I have no business being in there and don't have the time to just constantly be checking every bulletin board for new notices. As such, I was not able to audition for any shows and I was definitely not about to volunteer to tech anything.

At the same time, I had also planned on applying for the sketch writing team. This club wasn't open to just anyone; it required an application and only a few would be selected. I was not selected. That was all there was to it. In my rejection email, the club's president encouraged everyone to contact her with any questions and comments. She ASSURED us that she wasn't "just saying that" — apparently, she really DID want our feedback. I immediately wrote, asking very politely what would happen if someone who WAS accepted chose not to participate. I asked if there was a waiting list, and if not, when I could reapply for next semester. This was more than two months ago. She never responded.

On to the next one, right? I tried to look forward to the next activity. A friend of mine is in an environmental club at UCF, and she told me that the club had recently opened a chapter here at UF. I have always liked helping the environment, and since the club was new, I figured I could start fresh and really get involved without being a "latecomer" to the group. I sent a friendly message to the president of the chapter, who told me that he'd add me to their email list. Weeks passed, and I heard nothing from them. I checked their club website and saw that they hadn't had any events or meetings posted whatsoever. I casually wrote back, asking if there was anything upcoming to look forward to, and the president said I should resubmit my email address to their list. Then, if there were any forthcoming activities, he said, I'd definitely get notified of them.This was literally a month and a day ago. I have since received absolutely nothing; in fact, the only email from the club I did receive was for UCF's programs, NOT UF's!

Only one organization I've joined has actually worked out, and it has done next to nothing. I am a member of the advertising society here, and when I joined, I tried to jump in and be fully invested. Their application invites new members to do two things: join a committee, and have an experienced member be your mentor. I signed up for both. I was placed on the technology committee, and was actually excited for it. I was given a mentor, a cool-looking guy who befriended me on Facebook. And what happened? I have attended every meeting for this society and the committees have NEVER done ANYTHING. The committee members have NEVER contacted me, have NEVER met to my knowledge, and are never even MENTIONED during meetings. All that meetings consist of is listening to a guest speaker present a PowerPoint. I don't have a problem with that, but it's just simply not anything substantial to build involvement around. Then, the members go to bars afterward to drink. My mentor, who I've never actually seen at a meeting, invited me to go drinking and to a club on a night that I was busy. He invited me to a Super Bowl party while I was out of town. And that was it. I'm not sure if that's the role of a mentor, but those couple of invitations that I was forced to very politely turn down were the extent of our mentor/mentee interaction.

So, here I am. I am tired of being ignored and tired of trying and now, tired of writing. THIS IS WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE ME, DAY IN AND DAY OUT, AT THIS INSTITUTION OF NONSENSE. ☜

A few days ago, I was sitting in class, minding my own business, when the area around me suddenly began to smell of balloons. Yes, balloons. The scent lasted for a minute or two but nobody around me seemed to notice nor care. Strangely, there was no discernible source for the smell at all. Then, it went away. ☜

Speaking of parties, most college parties are actually quite lame and awkward. Why is it that the main type of festive, entertaining, social event college students can come up with is standing around awkwardly in someone's apartment, making small talk with strangers while holding a drink? THIS is the best anyone can come up with?! And what's more, people are deluded into thinking that this, before drunk camaraderie is factored in, is FUN? After being granted complete freedom from parents, rules, and curfews, and with thousands of friends and peers around, this usually uncomfortable, only rarely entertaining way of spending the evening is all we can think of to do?!

Usually, all anyone really wants to do is get drunk and high. Well, fine. But in my experience, these people just SIT THERE doing those activities. Why not, at the very least, drink and smoke before, after, or in ADDITION to doing something entertaining?! I go to parties and end up sitting around as well, but usually because there are never any alternative plans and I have no other friends to do anything with on my own. But I am almost always the one who is trying to rile up party guests to do ANYTHING — not anything expensive, unreasonable or unexpected, just to GET UP FROM THE COUCH — and time and time again, I am completely ignored. If you were to show someone who has never attended college footage of what REALLY goes on at college parties (NOTHING!), none of them would ever hype up the experience, or make stupid movies about them, or take pictures holding red cups, or any of the other pointless things brainwashed college students do. ☜

The very first thing I want to do when I'm home on a break from college is make plans to see my old pals from high school. This seems like a pretty reasonable, ordinary desire that shouldn't warrant nonsense. I hardly care what we're doing, where, or when — it's just nice to see friends again. Even though I constantly reiterate that when I'm home my schedule is completely open for anything, the plans I make or that my friends try to make with me ALWAYS, ALWAYS, INEVITABLY fall through, for no reason at ALL.

One such instance occurred over this winter break as I was trying to meet with a long-lost best friend whom I hadn't seen in several months. Our first exchange went nowhere: she asked when I was available; I told her anytime. I asked her when she was free; she said she didn't know. She then asked when I wasn't available; I told her, "I'm never unavailable, I'm available anytime," and she said she'd have to get back to me because she didn't know when she'd be available and when she'd be busy. Over the next few days, we didn't talk much. Then, one night, she texted me asking if I was available the very next day, to which I said I was. I asked her if there was anything in particular she'd like to do, and she didn't respond. The next morning was, to my knowledge, the day we were supposed to hang out. I contacted her in the morning to make sure she was still free (even though she chose the day, I still couldn't be sure the plan would hold up) and she fortunately said she was. However, she never replied with anything else. Hours went by and nothing was planned. I sat around all day waiting and asking her what our scheduled activity was to be, and she never responded. The day ended and we had done nothing.

Another time, a friend told me that he was only free one day of the week on account of his work schedule. I understood and told him that the one day he had off was fine by me. I contacted him early in the morning of that day and he told me, "No, I can't do anything today, sorry" with no other explanation. I had already turned down other offers JUST because of my intent to hang out with him. I spent the rest of the day with ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do.

What's absolutely insane is not just the fact that these kinds of incidents happen to me REPEATEDLY, it's that they're considered standard conventions of friendship and almost everyone does them more often than not. I couldn't rightly get upset at my friends over our failed attempts at meeting because I'd really have no one left at all if I fought those battles every time they surfaced. What an utterly nonsensical common truth it is that the people I call my BEST FRIENDS do these things and there's NOTHING I NOR ANYONE ELSE CAN EVER DO ABOUT IT.

In addition, not showing up to a party or event after previously RSVPing is an even MORE expected social norm these days. People just haphazardly say they're attending something, most often over virtual means like Facebook or texting, to appease the host or hostess. Then, they quite simply DON'T ATTEND, as if their previous commitment meant nothing. This is so ordinary that nobody even bothers to call out the deserter anymore; they just accept it. Sometimes, that person might contact the host or hostess several times throughout the party with promises of being "on their way," or "leaving in ten minutes," only to NEVER make it. Their rude behavior is then never spoken of again. None of these shameful acts are EVER spoken of after they happen.

WHY DO PEOPLE DO THESE THINGS?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?! ☜

I haven't written for millions of years because no one reads this blog.

I spend many weekends at home and away from college, and to get there, I go by bus or car on the turnpike. Along the way, there are dozens of nearly-identical rest stops every 45 minutes or so where travelers can eat, shop, or use the restroom. For some reason, whoever is driving me usually stops at the exact same rest stop, despite the fact that there are several others still ahead. One restaurant in this rest stop, Earl of Sandwich, is a fast food establishment specializing in sub sandwiches. There would normally be nothing unusual about a sandwich restaurant in the middle of a rest stop, but Earl of Sandwich had the oddest of phrases plastered around the storefront: "since 1762" and "250 years of experience." UHHHHHHH, WHAT? This franchise, which I had only encountered once before, has been established since 1762?!?!?! If this unremarkable fast food joint can survive the harsh conditions of planet Earth longer than the duration of the United States itself, why does the small, highly ordinary sub restaurant exist only in such DUMB, UNREMARKABLE locations like a highway rest stop?! This is all it could achieve in TWO CENTURIES of life?!?!?!?! How is this at all possible?!

Later, I discovered that the restaurant was actually founded by the actual current Earl of Sandwich (?!?!). . . in 2004. So just because that earl has some distant, muddled relation to an ancestry which may or may not have invented the sandwich itself, his business thinks it can outright say that THEY have "experience" from 1762?!?!" No one in charge of the restaurant's GRANDPARENTS' GRANDPARENTS were alive then, so how could that initial discovery/crafting of a sandwich POSSIBLY influence the business in any greater way than any other restaurant?!?!?!

As a side note, on my trips, I always see signs for a restaurant called Cody's Original Roadhouse. One of its slogans is "where quality and value come together." REALLY? Because I'm pretty sure that every other corporation on the face of the PLANET tries to push across that idea. Is this really the best any corporate advertising businessman could come up with for the restaurant — saying that it's a place with good food at a good price, as though that's some kind of ingenious concept that has never been achieved before?!?!?! Rest assured, I will not ever be eating there because it's too far away. However, I will still unfortunately be eating at Earl of Sandwich because the rest stop it's housed in has no other good choices. ☜

My printer is absolutely INSANE and DEMONIC in every respect. Given an ordinary printing job, it will routinely break down from paper jams out of nowhere. It will disregard my saved settings and print with whatever colors, layouts, or page orders it desires. This isn't what I dread will happen, it's what I have come to expect EVERY time. It's only a few years old and isn't fancy enough to do anything but print, and it STILL cannot manage to properly do the only thing on this planet it was created for.

Today, I attempted to print over 50 slides of astronomy lecture notes. I first changed the layout so that four slides would print on each page. The printer of course has no double-sided printing option, so I decided to strategize by printing the first, third and fifth sets of four slides at one time and then flipping over the stack and printing the second, fourth, and sixth sets on their opposites.

The print preview CLEARLY showed the slides oriented from left to right so that each page would contain pages one and two on the top and pages three and four on the bottom. This is exactly what I wanted my notes to look like, so I clicked print. I stared at what the preview depicted as the document was printing and reconfirmed in my mind that yes, this WAS the orientation I wanted. The document finished and — surprise — the slides were oriented from right to left, backwards from what I had chosen, for absolutely no reason at all. I was angry, but because the information was still intact, I bitterly continued.

Next, I flipped the stack of finished notes over so that the remaining pages would print on their reverse sides. I selected the correct settings and hit print, and as expected, the printer did not print the job correctly even though the print preview showed what I had wanted. It print everything in reverse order, so that the opposite side of the 1-4 page contained slides 21-24 instead of slides 5-8. It did this on every page so that the slides were completely out of order. Again, though this was COMPLETELY RIDICULOUS AND IDIOTIC, I let it go simply because the information was all present, albeit unorganized.

Even after spending hours trying to complete a task that should've taken less than five minutes, I wasn't done. All of the toil had been for just the first document of slides. There were still two other files containing more slides from other lectures that I needed to print. I opened the second document and started printing the first set of slides page by page so that the order couldn't possibly be mixed up. This time, I tried to outsmart the messed up printer settings: if selecting left-to-right had resulted in my document coming out right-to-left, I expected choosing right-to-left would produce left-to-right. IS THIS TOO MUCH TO ASSUME?!

Yes, it was. Not only did the first page print right-to-left AGAIN, it completely altered the order in another way. The slides situated on the top line were on the bottom and the bottom slides were on top. So, reading the page like a book, the page's order was slide four, three, two, one. This unexplainable and absolutely nonsensical HOKUM was already difficult enough to bear without one more unfortunate incident. I put the freshly-printed page back on the stack of blank paper to continue with the next set of slides, and AS IF ON CUE, the printer violently sucked up the page, ripped it, and created a paper jam. ☜

I brought a keyboard up to school with me so that I could practice piano. Unfortunately, it broke for absolutely no reason with no warning whatsoever before I was able to use it even once. I really want to play the piano every now and then, so I often go to UF's music building, which has unlocked practice rooms on the third floor.

On the door of every practice room is a sign clearly saying that the facilities are only to be used by students enrolled in a music course or music-related program. In addition, the signs indicate that many of the rooms can only be used by musicians of a specific instrument, despite the fact that every room contains a piano and a bench and looks exactly the same. Another rule posted is that every room must be locked when not in use. There are also several other rules I don't currently remember.

I have made myself at home in these practice rooms for nearly a year, coming and going as I please at all times of day and night. I am not a music student; I do not take any music courses (see the December 9th entry of 2009). I use the rooms reserved for violinists or harpists, though I definitely do not play those instruments. I do not lock the door when I am finished, as I have no key, and the rooms themselves are usually not locked to begin with. I do all of these things and NO ONE HAS EVER CARED NOR NOTICED. WHY POST DOZENS OF RULES DESIGNED TO KEEP OUT STUDENTS WHO PAY THE SAME TUITION TO BE HERE AS ANY MUSIC STUDENT — AND THEN NOT EVEN BOTHER TO ENFORCE THEM IN ANY WAY?!!?! ☜

This year, I mainly use Gainesville's RTS (Regional Transit System) buses to get from my apartment to campus. Because I ride one bus or another every day, I have already a witnessed a great number of nonsensical incidents in transit — entering, riding, and even following a bus ride. So let's not waste another minute!!!1

Presenting a Gator 1 card is a must in order to ride an RTS bus for free. It's what proves that a student really is a UF attendee. After a few months of catching the same buses with the same drivers day after day, many students feel it unnecessary to present their Gator 1 cards over and over again, but the drivers still ask to see them, and so we do. However, there are now some drivers that, upon seeing a student enter with a Gator 1 card presented, rudely snap, "I don't need to see that!" as though we are inexperienced little freshmen babies for following a standard RTS rule. This sharply contrasts other drivers, who, when faced with riders NOT showing their cards, rudely snap, "You gonna show me your card?!" SO WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO? PRESENT THE CARDS OR NOT?!

I've also noticed that some older bus models have little televisions perched here and there for passengers to watch. Dubbed with the moniker "Transit TV," they have ALWAYS been off. I have never seen one of them on. What's the point of wasting time and money installing televisions on public buses to begin with, ESPECIALLY when they have never once been on?!

Most dumbly though is RTS's treatment of lost or stolen items. On the day I purchased a bicycle, I rode a bus and put the bike on the bus's front bike rack. As I exited at my apartment's stop, the bus just drove away nonchalantly with my bike still in tow. Unable to jog, dash, run, or sprint up to it, I ran inside and hastily looked up and dialed RTS's number. The woman who answered spoke in a Southern accent and was one of the rudest, most unhelpful people I have ever had the displeasure of communicating on the phone with. She angrily told me that my bike was not their responsibility and that she couldn't even call the driver just to inform him of what had happened. I asked about a lost and found possibility, to which she answered that IF someone chose to turn it in to them, I'd have to go thousands of miles somewhere just to LOOK for it. If the bike were to be returned, she wouldn't even be able to tell me. Finally, I asked if I would be able to check and see if the bike was still there when the bus made its rounds again. She chuckled lazily and said, "Yeah, but someone can take it with them now if they want to. You better hope it's still there." Thankfully, the bike was still there when the driver came around again and he politely let me retrieve it. BUT THAT WOMAN WAS INSANE.

Lastly, whenever a bus is full of people, it broadcasts the message "Full Bus" on its LCD display for all to see. I find this awkward; it should really say, "Bus Full." Its current wording is much like a sports stadium displaying the message "Canceled Game" when they are no longer playing instead of "Game Canceled." "Canceled Game" just doesn't sound right, and neither does "Full Bus." ☜

I passed a young woman on the sidewalk the other day whom I recognized as my teacher's assistant from Cultural Anthropology last semester. She was so quiet and dumb-looking; it reminded me of one particular day in her class last semester that I'll never forget.

First of all, the class itself was utterly boring and pointless. About twenty students sat in the drab, middle school-esque classroom chatting or sleeping that day. No one had any expectations for the hour to come. The TA was a pushover by every definition. She spoke very quietly, was too shy and unassertive to enforce any class rules, and let us students turn in assignments late if we whined long enough. When it came time for us to answer discussion questions aloud for each other, she'd nod along and accept whatever answer we gave as long as it contained nonsensical buzzwords like "ethnocentrism" or "kinship" scattered throughout it.

That day, she said the class period was to be spent playing a game, something that suddenly woke about 25% of the class up (the rest of the 75% knew better and remained sleeping). It was an economics game involving pennies. What concepts of economics the game taught, she didn't know; she had simply received the instructions from our actual professor to play a game with the students and that's what she tried to do.

Each student was given several pennies and asked to divide into groups of two. She asked us all to hide any number of pennies we wanted in one hand, so our respective partner couldn't see. Then, both partners were to open their hands at the same time. Whoever had less pennies "won" the round and claimed the partner's pennies for their own. Then, we were to repeat the game with a different partner.

"Can we use zero pennies?" everyone asked.

"Yes," she replied meekly.

"What is this supposed to teach us?" we yelled.

"I don't know," she mumbled.

So, everyone who was awake clumsily played the stupid game. Everyone's "strategy" was to just put zero pennies in their hands, resulting in constant ties. After a few minutes of this, the TA added quietly, "You don't need to use zero pennies every time!" From then on, everyone just played with one penny. The awkward game was clearly going nowhere after twenty minutes so we actually did start using varying amounts, resulting in wins and losses for everyone. Near the end of the period, everybody packed up their belongings and asked, "What was the point of this?!" The TA was clearly nervous and answered, "It was a game to teach economics." Everyone just shrugged and left the room, never to speak or even think about the wasteful day again. In subsequent periods with the actual professor, his only mentioning of the game was, "So as I recall, last class you guys played a game with pennies to learn about how the economy works, right?" to which no one responded.

It's nice to know that this is what Florida's "flagship" university is offering me for an education. ☜

Months and months and months ago, I wanted to purchase a stuffed animal for a friend's birthday. I used Facebook's "Real Gifts" application, an online marketplace of sorts which allows users to buy products and have them sent conveniently to the recipient right from the website (not to be confused with the original "Gifts" application, which charges real money to only send a stupid cartoon of the gift to their profile). I chose a stuffed monkey and filled out the address and credit card information as asked, but when I clicked to confirm, the application froze and went to an error page. Assuming the purchase had not gone through properly, I went back and re-ordered the gift. Minutes later, I received a friendly message from a Facebook employee alerting me that I had ordered two copies of the same gift within minutes of each other; she wanted to know if this was intentional or a mistake. I kindly and appreciatively told her that I only meant to order one item, NOT TWO. Within a week, the toy was successfully mailed to my friend.

Months later, I saw the credit card statement for the purchase and noticed that I had been charged twice for that one gift. Normally, I would've understood how this may have happened — with that error page and all — but I TOLD the Facebook employee very plainly that I only purchased the item once! WHY BOTHER TO CHECK WITH A CUSTOMER ONLY TO THEN NOT LISTEN OR TAKE ANY ACTION IN REGARD TO THEIR REPLY?!?!

Infuriated, I searched through my messages to find the original clarification asked by that Facebook employee so that I could tack on my newest complaint to the end of it. For some reason, her profile was deleted. Yeah, someone who WORKS for the Real Gifts service deleted her own account (FOR NO REASON), so I was unable to retort at all. I then went to Real Gifts' main page and sent them an email describing the situation in detail. I received a swift reply from Facebook telling me that I had contacted the wrong department. They provided a link to the proper page where I was supposed to send my inquiries. I clicked it and it led me back to the main page for Real Gifts — THE SAME PLACE I COMPLAINED TO IN THE FIRST PLACE. I resent the same email to the same department and received the same reply, telling me to send my complaint to the SAME place I had just sent it to TWICE. Upon explaining this to Facebook, they did not answer. In the weeks that followed, I nudged them with one-sentence follow-ups such as, "Please respond to and correct my problem as soon as possible," which they ignored.

After months of this, Facebook finally responded and gave me a link to a "new" contact to complain to. It turned out to be nothing more than Real Gifts' suggestion box feature — definitely not anything designed to amend a credit card mishap. I dumbly explained my situation to the suggestion box while also telling Facebook that I did not feel this method would be effective. In her message, the Facebook employee said, "If you find that the developer is unresponsive to your inquiry within the next 72 hours, let me know." To no one's surprise, the developer was COMPLETELY unresponsive, so I let her know. This was over a week ago. To this day, SHE has been completely unresponsive. It's been over six months since I originally purchased the gift and ABSOLUTELY NOBODY HAS DONE ANYTHING TO REMOVE THE SECOND CHARGE. WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?!?! I HAVE FOLLOWED EVERY DIRECTION ASKED OF ME. WHY DO SO MANY BUSINESSES MISMANAGE THEIR CUSTOMERS' ORDERS AND SIMPLY DISAPPEAR FROM THE FACE OF THE EARTH WHEN CONFRONTED ABOUT IT?!?!?!??!? EVERYONE ON THIS PLANET IS ABSOLUTELY INSANE. ☜

Can everyone just stop using the phrase, "with a passion"? Every two seconds, someone stupidly says they hate something "with a passion." Okay? Wow, they must really hate it! Or, they love something with a passion. Oh, how great! That stupid three-word addition doesn't fortify your pointless declaration; it sounds like you're saying that you hate something "with a strong hatred" or love something "with a great love" of it. JUST SHUT UP! ☜

I cannot tread water for more than ten seconds. I have never been able to and I doubt I ever will be able to. In fact, I find it very difficult to believe that anybody actually can because the whole act seems to generate tremendous fatigue for no reason at all. In my early childhood, I was forced to take extensive swimming lessons, only to follow up with forced, TRAUMATIZING daily swimming during JCC summer camp. Throughout that time, the only instruction I received on treading water was to just mindlessly kick my legs back and forth like scissors while flailing my arms wildly in circles on the water's surface. Needless to say, these actions did nothing, and even when I somehow did manage to keep afloat using this method, I quickly tired and would have to clutch a nearby wall. Having to always stay near a wall defeated the purpose of treading water in the first place.

Knowing I was unable to swim the length of an Olympic-sized pool at the age of 5, the JCC swimming coaches and staff often forced my fellow campers and me to swim the length of an Olympic-sized pool starting at the age of 5. I was very small and too afraid to even set foot outside of the shallowest shallow end, but after somehow avoiding the dastardly challenge for weeks by hiding from counselors or screeching my head off, I was finally forced to swim across the miles of vast ocean — alone. After I finally worked up a small bit of courage-like ability to leave the wall, I swam what seemed a distance of two feet across the pool before tiring out. The swim coach at the other end waiting for me noticed this and called out, "Don't worry, just tread water and rest!" I stared, completely dumbfounded and horrified by this ridiculous suggestion. Not only was I completely unable to tread water, there was absolutely no way that my patented flopping and splashing technique could ever induce REST. Of course, there was also no way to communicate this predicament in the fleeting moments I had before sinking right where I was, so all I could do was spin about insanely, desperately looking for any sign of a wall. I finally was able to reach a set of buoys that were situated like a rope, dividing the tiny, peaceful, heavenly shallow luxury kiddie area from the colossal, impossibly dangerous, unmanned, shark-infested sea. I gazed toward the kiddie area with an eternal longing, wondering why as a kindergartner I had already outgrown it. Just then, the coach I was supposed to swim to appeared beside me and scolded me. I had failed.

In the years that followed, I eventually learned how to swim across that dumb old pool, but I never learned how to tread water. Yesterday I went for a swim and, being an experienced professional, expected to have mastered the simple task that had been expected of me as an ELEMENTARY SCHOOL STUDENT. But lo and behold (YES, LO AND BEHOLD), I STILL CANNOT TREAD WATER FOR MORE THAN TEN SECONDS. HOW DOES ANYONE DO IT?!?!?!?!?! WHY CAN'T ANYONE TEACH IT?!?!?!?!?!?! WHY IS A SIMPLE, NECESSARY SKILL FOR SURVIVAL SO INSANELY DIFFICULT?!?!?!?!?!?!?! ☜

Not sure why I remembered this, but for many years of my life I was forced to take a little something called the Florida Comprehensive Assessment Test, or FCAT, in school. For an annual series of statewide reading, writing, and mathematics exams, it was the pretty much the easiest thing ever, but my respective schools would always provide "helpful" testing tips for students a week or two before the FCAT was to begin. One of these tips, I remember clearly, recurred year after year: If you come to a question and are unsure of which answer to choose, choose the best answer.

HOW DOES THIS HELP ANYBODY?!?!?!?!?!?!?! ☜

Over time, I have realized that something as simple as reading a book is actually quite straining and uncomfortable. The only way I can EVER read is by lying down on one side and holding the book on the surface next to me with both hands. But with the book in this position, I can really only read one page — the opposite page is always flat on the surface. In order to read that opposite page, I have to lift my head up and look down. If I'm lying on my left side, this process follows the following sequence: lift head up and read page, put head down and read next page, turn page, lift head up and read page, put head down and read next page, turn page, REPEAT DUMBLY. After a few minutes of maintaining this little system, I inevitably crush whichever arm I'm lying on, and so I flip over and continue the process on the other side.

Not only am I now locked into a cycle that I know will force me to lift my head up repeatedly (which is in itself the most uncomfortable task in the known universe), but if I am reading a paperback, the front cover will lift up from lack of weight and close on itself if I'm very early in the book and lying on my left side. Thus, I'll need to use two hands to hold the book open before I reach about a quarter-way through. Then, when I'm close to finishing the book, the same problem will happen when I am on my right side! The combination of arm crushing, head lifting, and double hand support makes reading a book the most strenuous torture ever, which is a shame. ☜

One afternoon a couple of years ago, I wasn't doing anything when I heard a knock at the front door. I went to answer it, looking through the front window first, and saw a very tall and muscular man standing perfectly still on the walkway leading up to the door (NOT in front of the door itself). Dressed in a formal button-down golden shirt, black slacks and dress shoes, his fists were clenched as he stood in what seemed like a wrestler's stance. He looked furious. I stood there, staring at him. He didn't move for over thirty seconds so I didn't open the door.

Later, I checked back at the window and saw him walking toward his truck, which he parked on the side of the road. When he had driven a safe distance away, I went outside to the street to watch him heading off into the distance. But as soon as I set foot on the road, he actually swerved his truck around and started heading BACK toward my house! I ran inside and saw him through the window as he drove past, but he just continued on in the other direction. He has since never returned. Who is this LUNATIC?! ☜

I can't even begin to describe the atrocity that pollutes the radio airwaves in this day and age. I was riding in the backseat of a car with friends one afternoon and therefore unable to turn off the garbage that spewed into my temporal lobes — garbage that has left me bitter, unfeeling, and shaking. Some radio station, Power 96 or some nonsense, decided that an upbeat song entitled "Birthday Suit" by some nobody named "Swazy Styles" was actually fit to be heard by human ears, much less suitable to be broadcast via radio waves to an audience of thousands.

The song begins with mindless chanting and screaming over a typical, generic dance beat. Then, the chorus chimes in with the following phrases: "I like to party with the girls / Who will drink till they're drunk / And change into their birthday suits / Come with me and we can party / And drink till we're drunk / And change into our birthday suits." Predictable, uninspired drivel. The chorus and song itself offer nothing new or fresh to the dance, hip hop, or pop genres. The lines don't even rhyme and simply repeat the same stupidity, over and over. But the juicy kicker here is that the entire chorus is set to the TETRIS THEME SONG. The sampling of the Tetris theme is not as a tribute or homage to the game; it is blatantly just ripped and mutilated because the "artist(s?)" were simply too LAZY and STUPID to create their own hook. Then, to really rub in how undeserving they are of the Tetris sample, the singers can't even reach the high note, instead singing it noticeably and piercingly flat!

Another song that faced similar criticism was Soulja Boy's 2007 debut single, "Crank That (Soulja Boy)." While immensely popular, the song was bashed for relying solely on a catchy beat and offering nothing else in terms of lyrics, emotion, or talent. But at LEAST that song devised its OWN memorable hook and even incorporated a dance. At least it TRIED. This birthday suit nonsense just sits there and relishes in the fact that it doesn't contribute anything to anybody. ☜

With the Deepwater Horizon oil spill constantly in the news, many news anchors and other stupid television personalities make references to the 1989 Exxon Valdez oil spill, another huge disaster of similar proportions. However, whenever they say the name "Valdez," many of these dumdums mispronounce the name, saying "val-DEEZ." It's not only a matter of being completely ignorant and insensitive to the Spanish language, as even an English-language word with this kind of spelling would not be pronounced with a long "e." It really is a matter of said individuals being utterly idiotic. There's no conceivable reasoning behind disregarding standard conventions of language in order to pronounce a simple, ordinary surname WRONG. ☜

I used to find it unusual when classmates whom I've never spoken to or made eye contact with would send me friend requests on Facebook. I'd accept, but none of them would ever make any further attempt to interact with me online or in person (in fact, the individuals who added me way back in February 2009 have STILL not introduced themselves, as expected). Pathetic as this was, both the potential friend and I would at the very least be aware of each other, even if our only connection was sitting in the same classroom five rows apart. Nowadays, this behavior seems old hat and even acceptable in comparison to the requests I've started to receive. Over the course of this year, I've been requested again by classmates whom I've never spoken to or made eye contact with, but not in college — these random students are from SOPHOMORE YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL. Since that time, I haven't thought about, cared about, or even acknowledged their existences. Why add me NOW, when our only connection was sitting in the same classes THREE YEARS AGO? We weren't friends sophomore year, as they'd undoubtedly admit, and they didn't send me requests back then. Junior year came and went and nothing changed. Through senior year, we were still strangers. But, under their logic, something magically changed during college and NOW we're long-lost friends primed to discover each other and catch up with old memories. I have seen their profiles time and time again just in passing, and I'm assuming they've seen mine, too, so this isn't a matter of these people being new to Facebook. What's changed from one day to the next, three years on, that suddenly made them think of me as a friend instead of a stranger?!?! What's more, just as I predicted, neither of the two in question have made any effort in actually communicating with me.

Another request I received this year was beyond pathetic and for the most part, unfathomable. After adding a friend I actually did meet in a class, his girlfriend requested me. I had never encountered, seen, met, or heard of her, but she was his girlfriend, so I accepted thinking I would probably notice her around with him at some point. Not only did I never once see this girl, her profile said she was attending a university in Tennessee. Her news feed showed her befriending dozens of my own UF classmates but never talking to them, just as she had never talked to me. Upon a closer inspection, I discovered that she was simply requesting to be friends with every single person her boyfriend added, even though she had never met any of them. WHO DOES THIS?!?!?!

As idiotic as these examples are, I have also received friend requests lately from the dumbest of users: FAKE people. People who do not EXIST. A year ago, I was requested by a "Diana Vengoechea." I accepted only to see if I could place her from somewhere. We had hundreds of mutual friends, apparently, but all of her wall posts were people asking "Who are you??!?!?!" She hadn't replied to anybody, hadn't been tagged in anyone's pictures, and seemingly didn't have any real friends of her own. Many of my own friends accepted her requests and then never looked at her profile again. To this day, Diana's Facebook account is present, but she hasn't DONE ANYTHING on it. No one has commented on it. No one has tagged her in their photos. She doesn't even exist, so who is behind this UTTER nonsense???

This past March, I was requested by two more phonies: "Lauren Robertson" and "Kaity Gonzales." Both added hundreds of people from my high school and a neighboring one, respectively, and the only comments they received on their walls were perplexed yells of "Who is this?!?!?!?" and "Do I know you?!?!?!?" "Kaity" to this day has done nothing at all outside of adding over 900 people, but "Lauren" actually spammed her friends' statuses and photos at random with a "Free Apple iPad!" fan page link. The most obvious conclusion is that these scam profiles are stalkers trying to spy on people's otherwise private profiles, but WHY?! Wanting to spy on one person is understandable, but who creates a profile to adds hundreds and hundreds of students at a school and do nothing more?! These profiles are just floating there, taking up space and bandwidth, unknown to anyone. Don't blame me when the imposters behind these profiles steal your identity, deplete your bank account, and murder your family. But why WOULD you blame me? ☜

Whenever I fill out an application for a school or some kind of employment, I am ALWAYS asked to list organizations or clubs that I have held positions of leadership in. No one really cares if I was simply a member of such organizations; I am only valuable if I was president, treasurer, secretary, or some other leading post. Frustratingly, I have very few such positions in my experience and have no doubt been rejected from some program or another because of this. I ask, why? Why is it so important that I have been the LEADER of so many clubs, when ordinary members do just as much work and have the same worthwhile contributions? Is it really such a crime to willingly leave the management decisions to those I KNOW can make them better than I can? What worth is it to colleges and businesses for EVERYONE to be a leader? If everyone accepted is trying to lead, there is no one left to be LED! With so many leaders with different viewpoints taking charge of a team, isn't there LESS being accomplished in the end?

Honestly, during my first year of college, I wasn't asked to lead so much as one project, EVER. I did not even once work in a "team" (other than a few group projects wherein the group members never met face to face). Not only did my ability (or inability) to lead have no effect on my college education whatsoever thus far, it was never even once sought or tested by ANYBODY. Yet the University of Florida still very plainly asks applicants to list their previous positions of leadership as a means of weeding out unworthy potential students. If anything, a better application question would be, "How willing and able are you to sit back and accept whatever we throw at you without complaining or questioning authority?" because in my experience, THAT'S REALLY ALL ANY BUSINESS OR SCHOOL CARES ABOUT. ☜

Subway restaurants spend a great deal of annoying advertising promoting their "$5 footlong" campaign. When they first began the promotion, EVERY footlong sub sandwich was $5. Later, Subway changed all of the advertising so that only SELECT footlong sandwiches were $5. Months later, their commercials returned to saying every footlong sandwich was $5, even driving the point home with various people in the spot chanting "any, any, any footlong" every two seconds. I recently saw an advertisement once again depicting only SELECT footlongs as $5.

Can anyone make up their mind here??? How is the average customer supposed to remember what random days Subway is going to decide to charge $5 for any footlong sandwich and what days they're going to save the deal for select ones?!? After repeatedly pounding in the irritating message of "any, any, any footlong" over and over into viewers' cortexes, how can you expect any Subway customer to order a footlong and accept a $7 charge, as I did a couple of months ago?!?! ☜

I can show mercy. I understand that people aren't perfect. Companies can't always be 100% efficient. I get that, which is why I have decided to turn a blind eye to one particular company over this entire year. BUT NOT ANYMORE.

GMG Transports is a bus service specializing in trips between Gainesville and Miami for college students during the school year. Every weekend, they make several different drives between the two cities for about $45 per round trip. The bus rides themselves are usually satisfactory and nothing to complain about, but their business practices are absolutely abominable. Over the past several months I have simply chosen to ignore their shady management because they provided somewhat decent service. Just because I have ignored them, though, does NOT mean that their behavior is permissible.

GMG used to have three means of communication: an office on the University of Florida campus, a website, and a phone number. Well, the office randomly just shut down one day, so you'd EXPECT they'd then monitor their phone and website with utmost attention. Once, I called because I had an inquiry about a certain deal I had heard about: buy four GMG trips over the semester and receive the fifth free. I casually dialed up the phone number, but it was busy. I tried again after a few minutes; it was still busy. I CALLED MORE THAN 40 TIMES OVER THE NEXT FEW HOURS AND GMG'S PHONE EITHER WAS BUSY OR DISCONNECTED ON ITS OWN AFTER SEVERAL RINGS. Finally, after a million years, I managed to get their voicemail message, a ten-minute snoozefest in which GMG's manager, Lilliam Paez, yapped about all kinds of nonsense. I left a message with my question, all the while dumbfounded as to why a company does not answer their telephone during their own posted business hours.

As expected, I did not receive any reply. I called back the next day and again failed to reach anyone, for hours. FINALLY, some random girl answered and told me that the fifth-ticket-free deal was still valid, but that it had to be mentioned to GMG ahead of time because the website had no option to request it. I hadn't acquired four tickets at the time, but I planned to make my next four trips home on GMG buses just so that I could use the deal.

The next few months passed with only minor frustrations toward the company. (The website said they played movies on their trips, though they often played nothing at all; they bragged about the buses having wi-fi service but I would always inevitably wind up on the ONE that did not; buses would even pull over into random rest stops and just sit there, idle, for long periods of time for no reason at all.) One weekend, I took a bus trip to Miami, and as I headed back to the bus loading area to return to Gainesville, Lilliam herself told me that I was NOT ALLOWED TO TAKE MY PURCHASED TRIP BACK. Why? Because the bus had been OVERBOOKED. YEAH. Because GMG had been too incompetent to sell the right number of tickets per trip, I was simply DENIED the trip that I PAID for. Finally, Lilliam let me ride on the overbooked bus "just this once," but what if she hadn't? HOW IS SOMEONE SUPPOSED TO FIND A SIX-HOUR RIDE BACK TO CAMPUS WHEN THEY'RE TOLD OF THE PROBLEM ON THE VERY DAY THEY NEED THE TRANSPORTATION?!?! Then, when I sat down and the bus pulled onto the road, there were MANY empty seats! But because I hadn't lost anything in this strange situation, I let it go.

On a following trip, I scheduled a Friday afternoon departure but had to cancel and reschedule it to Thursday. In the event of a cancellation, GMG offers you a credit for a future trip instead of refunding your money, which I didn't have a problem with. I was worried, though, because I was under the impression I was charged twice — once for the original Friday departure and another time for my rescheduled Thursday ride. I wrote an email to Lilliam (the only apparently real, known employee of the entire business) kindly asking that if the second charge indeed went through, that I be compensated with a trip credit for it. She ACTUALLY replied, saying it would be processed in a week. A week and a few days passed but she did not send anything, so I revisited the email and patiently reminded her about the credit. She later replied saying it would be processed in another week. I let about two weeks pass and I still didn't get the credit, so I again wrote to her. She ignored it. Two weeks went by; I wrote. She ignored. This continued until I threatened to call the credit card company and cancel the charge. To this, she FINALLY replied saying that it would actually take "4 to 6 weeks" to process the credit that I had earned over a month earlier! Fed up with all of her LIES and DECEIT, I went through my card's history and found that, strangely, I had only been charged for one trip the entire time! Whether GMG had removed the second charge or if they had only charged once from the beginning, I did not know; either way, WHY FRUSTRATE ME WITH PROMISES OF A BUS CREDIT WHEN THE ARGUMENT WAS COMPLETELY MOOT THE WHOLE TIME? WHY NOT JUST TELL ME STRAIGHTFORWARD THAT THERE HAD ONLY BEEN ONE CHARGE?!?!?!?!?! But once again, because I hadn't actually come up short financially, I just disregarded the utter codswallop.

But all of the insanity culminated to UNBEARABLE with the most recent, unbelievable nonsense EVER. It was my final trip of the year and I was looking forward to putting my four past credits to that free fifth trip. A week in advance, I wrote an email to GMG asking for the free ticket, and of course I received no response. I phoned them and they didn't answer, even during their business hours. After days of this, I really had no choice but to just purchase the ticket. I emailed them again, frustrated, and said I was ready to present the four past tickets to prove that the fifth ticket would be free. (I took the trip and the bus got a flat tire midway — a repair that was supposed to take only 45 minutes and instead took TWO HOURS. WE WERE SITTING ON THE HIGHWAY, DOING NOTHING, FOR TWO HOURS.)

After I had been home for a few days, Lilliam decided to finally reply saying that it was too late to obtain the free credit and that even if it wasn't, the trip I had taken was on a "premium week" and credits cannot be used on those weeks. Premium weeks, wherein trips cost an extra $10, are supposed to be on holiday weekends or the beginning and ends of semesters. I took the trip on a random THURSDAY that didn't fall into either category. So, instead of traveling for free, I was SWINDLED INTO PAYING FULL PRICE PLUS TEN DOLLARS. When I informed her of all of this, she didn't care AT ALL. She only replied, "Thank you for your inpute." [sic]

GMG IS BY FAR THE MOST UNPROFESSIONAL COMPANY I HAVE EVER DEALT WITH. IF YOU ARE EVER LOOKING FOR A BUS SERVICE SUCH AS THIS, LOOK SOMEWHERE ELSE. THESE FOOLISH MANIACS SOMEHOW THINK THAT IGNORING CUSTOMERS AND DECEIVING THEM FOR EXTRA MONEY ARE NOBLE BUSINESS PRACTICES. NEVER GIVE GMG ONE DIME OF YOUR MONEY, EVER!!!!!!!!!!11!1one!!!!1uno ☜

Anyone on this planet who has been within five hundred feet of the internet within the past year knows the absolutely despicable, heinous, preposterous abomination to humanity known as Facebook fan pages. Fan pages, a collective virus that is slowly obliterating Facebook from the inside out, have been around for a long time. They began as innocent destinations where the site's users could "connect" with celebrities, bands, or organizations. Even though no one ever really did any "connecting," they proved popular just for the sake of joining. There was nothing wrong with this original intention. However, over time, the Facebook fan page has become, quite literally, worthless garbage.

Before fan pages were introduced, Facebook had groups. Groups were very similar to fan pages, the difference being that they were more versatile. Anything the Facebook community wanted to come together over could be the subject of a group. Groups fell into one of two categories: first, there were "regular" subjects, such as "Meat Eaters Against Animal Cruelty" and "Bring Back Arrested Development." These groups were serious in nature, trying to unite people over a common cause. But the real fun of groups on Facebook came in those falling in the other category, which I will call "I thought I was the only one who did this" groups. These groups were "humorous" and "clever" in the fact that they brought thousands of members together over the simplest of subjects, subjects one would never think anyone else in the world would find fitting except themselves: "When I found out the Disney 'D' WAS a 'D', it blew my mind" and "How Headphones get Tangled up on Their Own, I'll Never Understand..." These were, and still are, two popular examples. Half of the fun in this was discovering what strange, quirky, and universal character traits someone would recognize and create a group about next. Joining groups was common for many users but never clogged the news feed feature. Nobody was ever annoyed by it.

Then, a few years ago, Facebook introduced the aforementioned fan page, which was quite similar to the "regular" group. The difference, seemingly, was that a fan page was supposed to be actually managed by the page's subject, whereas the group was created by a random fan. With the fan page, the subject could actually publish their own news, events, discussions, and the like. At first, the fan page was a smart feature. The subjects consisted of celebrities, bands, and organizations — exactly the types of subjects someone could be a fan of. At this point, all was clear. Nothing was wrong. There was peace on earth and Facebook.

But, just as everything was running swimmingly, Facebook decided to initiate what would become an annual routine of redesigning the site's layout against everyone's will. With these unwelcome changes came an updated "suggestion" feature: Facebook suggesting fan pages for you to join directly on the home page.

That is where I first saw a few unusual fan page recommendations: "Candy," "Texting," "The Beach," and other things rather than people. This was the beginning of the slippery slope. Soon, people started creating fan pages for specific events and activities, like "Staying Up Late" or "Holding Hands." Even though these pages deviated from what fan pages were supposed to be, they still didn't bother anybody. Here and there, a couple of my friends joined more fan pages than others, but this too was relatively minor in comparison to Facebook's many other problems.

However, so very gradually, the fan pages started multiplying. Instead of just "Texting," people started becoming fans of pages SPECIFICALLY about late night texting, texting a significant other, being angry when people don't text back, wondering why a certain person hasn't texted back, wanting a certain person to text first, and hundreds of other variations. While there used to just be a fan page called "Awkward Moments," there are now THOUSANDS of fan pages for every possible uncomfortable situation someone could EVER be in. They didn't even stop at being about positive subjects — many fan pages are specifically about things you'd NOT be a fan of, like "Creepy Stalkers Who Add You on Facebook." Not only has the number of ridiculous pages increased, many people (high school girls in particular), think it's cute and funny to become a fan of EVERY SINGLE PAGE that could ever possibly have a remote connection with their life. The result is a news feed that is flooded with "news" about people becoming fans of absolute NONSENSE. The idea in the beginning was purposeful: show off personality by joining pages for your specific interests. Show your friends how cute and awkward you are by becoming a fan of "Saying goodbye to someone and then going the same way as them." And the like. But now that EVERYONE joins EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME, the complete opposite has happened. Joining a multitude of fan pages shows that you have NO personality and are NOT unique.

It should be clear at this point that fan pages are spam. But very recently, fan pages actually DID start being, quite literally, about spam. Many pages now pitch a "must see" image, conversation, or other secret in their titles, and you have to join to see them. Yes, people are joining fan pages just to THEN see what they're about, rather than joining BECAUSE they like the subject. After this caught on, the lunatics who design the pages started making pages like this that DIDN'T reveal the image, conversation, or secret — they only pitched spam.

It can be confusing, so this is a simple rundown of the downward progression of the Facebook fan page, from their inception until now:

1. In the beginning, fan pages were normal, encompassing real life figures and organizations.

2. Next, fan pages were normal, but started to feature inanimate objects or ideas as subjects.

3. Then, fan pages were increasingly obnoxious and trivial as they featured every last possible character trait or human situation as subjects.

4. At around the same time, fan pages started to become races or games, as two rival schools have their own respective page and try to see which can amass more fans the fastest. There are probably over 9000 "Let's see if UF can get more fans than FSU" fan pages alone. The same people repeatedly join and invite me to join this nonsense.

5. Currently, fan pages are obnoxious, irritating, and overpopulate the site as some force users to join in order to see their content. Taking advantage of users being sheep and joining any page they see, the newest, sly pages force users to join only to NOT present the promised content. The only action Facebook has taken throughout this entire destruction of the fan page is to OCCASIONALLY take away the creator's publishing rights, meaning that he or she cannot post anything to the page. It does not, however, REMOVE the page, leaving the problem alive and well.

Increasingly common fan page titles like "Let 's get all of face book memebrs in 1 grup!!!!!!!!1" [sic] prove that the majority of users of Facebook are 12-year-old drooling idiots. Facebook is dying. I want to go back to MySpace (which had plenty of problems of its own). I can't even yell or complain because the problem here is so elementary and stupid, I'll feel like I'm talking down to infants. ☜

I just took a bus trip from Miami to Gainesville. After the bus had been on the road for two hours, the bus driver loudly asked us passengers, "Do you want the air conditioning on or off?" No one answered. He asked again, yelling. The reply this time was an indecipherable cacophony of "yes," "no," and other miscellaneous groaning noises. With that, he replied something also indecipherable. It was unclear whether he then turned on the air or not.

How did this exchange accomplish anything?!?!?!?! ☜

Every once in a while, a rather sane person tarnishes his or her image with an unprecedented nonsensical act; my Jewish-American Fiction professor is one of those people. I will not reveal his identity because I feel he has the potential to redeem himself, but recently, he made one of the most insane requests ever spoken by an instructor.

Our assignment was to type a five page report... and PRINT 32 COPIES OF IT FOR EVERY MEMBER OF THE CLASS. Oh, but not to worry, he did say we could eliminate the double spacing for the student copies to "save paper!" This would still make each individual report around 2.5 pages — OVER 70 SHEETS OF PAPER, WASTED. IS THIS REALLY SAVING PAPER? The only purpose for this unbelievably unreasonable assignment was JUST so that our fellow students could have a copy of our reports to read for themselves. As if anyone has any interest in reading about the insight of a complete stranger on a topic that has undoubtedly been talked to death already IN class?

When the next class and where we were to bring these copies with us, HE COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THE ASSIGNMENT! With five minutes left to go, someone raised her hand and asked him what we were to do with our millions of extra reports, to which he nonchalantly replied, "You can distribute them if you want." If you WANT. I was so drained from the three hours in that room that I just sat there and didn't hand out my copies at all. Meanwhile, a dozen students bombarded me and every other classmate with stacks of their reports, some of which were printed in 5 point font to save paper and were as a result impossible to read. The entire charade was completely immaterial, and my professor didn't care whether students brought copies or not. Currently, my own stack of reports and my classmates' copies are sitting, gathering dust, in the corner of my bedroom. I don't even have words to wrap this story up; it was just a WASTE. An extremely, utterly, INSANELY pointless WASTE. ☜

About a month ago, I went to Miami's Dolphin Mall to return holiday gifts. While there, my family and I ate in the food court and were disturbed by THE most irritating human being ever conceived. Forget about the coughing girl from my class. Forget about the round woman lacking the ability to open her eyes. This creature cannot be challenged.

A Hispanic young woman working at Cajun Grill was standing by the counter where people ordered and received their food. She had a platter of free samples, and LITERALLY screamed, "ORAH CHEEKEH! SOU RAY CHEEKEH!" every TWO SECONDS. I am not exaggerating or slanting the issue with bias. This INSANE woman yelled out these two phrases NONSTOP for the entire time we were there, in order to "attract" customers to the store. Our lunch break was completely intolerable and our experience at the mall ruined. It didn't matter that there were already people eager to get free chicken samples, she would continue to SCREAM it out like a robot. She didn't seem to notice or care that she was aggravating everyone within earshot; she just continued to mindlessly yell out, "ORAH CHEEKEH! SOU RAY CHEEKEH!" as though following some computer command rather than actually choosing her own behavior.

"Orah cheekeh" could be interpreted to mean orange chicken, but to this day no one has discovered the meaning of "sou ray cheekeh." It couldn't mean sour chicken, as there was no sour chicken anywhere on the menu. Nothing else the restaurant offered even came close to resembling the hokum dribbling from her mouth. South range chicken? Were those particular pieces of chicken taken from poultry raised on some sort of range in a southern location? That was the ONLY possibility, though I wouldn't be surprised if she was yelling out something with NO meaning at all because she was an IDIOT. What's worse about the whole ordeal is that she will probably never be fired like she ought to be, because she is technically doing her job. WHY IS IT THAT EVERYWHERE IN THE WORLD, POPULATIONS ARE RAMPANT WITH ABSOLUTELY MORONIC, INSANE, AND COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS PEOPLE?! JUST SHUT UP!!! YOU'RE DAMAGING YOUR OWN VOICE IN ORDER TO INFURIATE THE PUBLIC! IT'S A LOSE-LOSE SITUATION!

IF I EVER HAVE THE CURSE OF HAVING TO SET FOOT NEAR THAT RESTAURANT AGAIN, I WILL SCREECH THOSE PHRASES IN HER EARS NONSTOP FOR THE REST OF HER LIFE!!!!! ☜

A new tidbit of slang has emerged on the Internet, and I have found it slowly oozing into everyday conversation. Instead of conventionally announcing that one is doing something, it is now standard for people to say "I'm on that [activity] status." For example, if one is traveling from Miami to Gainesville, a Facebook status update might read, "I'm on that Gville status!" After a long day, I commonly hear about people being "on that tired status." I am not sure who exactly started this trend, but quite frankly, I find it incredibly stupid.

I do realize that slang isn't supposed to necessarily make sense, but isn't it supposed to abbreviate and simplify difficult concepts so that the everyday person can communicate a point? This slang does the opposite. Instead of someone telling the world they are "studying," the convention is to say they are "on that studying status." Just the sound of it is DUMB.

No doubt that the word "status" here is derived from Facebook, where status updates are a commonly used and central feature. Users of this slang most likely observed friends' statuses and remembered them. Nowadays, it seems as though the only familiarity people have with distant friends is composed of whatever their status updates are. So, instead of knowing firsthand that Rutherford was "stoked for a concert," his friends know that his STATUS read "stoked for a concert." They report this to other friends with the words, "Rutherford's status said he was stoked for a concert." Eventually, this phrase became more concise until it could be announced in the infamous manner, "Rutherford is on that stoked status." PLEASE STOP SAYING THIS ANNOYING PHRASE. IF I SAY IT, IT'S OKAY BECAUSE I'M SUBTLY MAKING FUN OF PEOPLE WHO SAY IT. BUT YES, IT IS HIGHLY ANNOYING. ☜

It may come as a surprise to many, but I have a talent agent. That is, I have the "good fortune" to be represented, along with thousands of other children and teenagers, by an agency that will try to match me to film and television auditions. I've "been with them" for about a year now, and I actually forget about it most of the time because of how distant and disconnected we are to each other.

It all started when, one afternoon last year, my friend Logan (name possibly changed) and I were involved in a theatrical performance for the public. The head of this talent agency was in attendance and she approached Logan and me after the show. Handing us each her business card, she invited us to visit her agency building and enlist with them. We didn't know what to think at first.

Later that day, Logan made it clear that even though he had politely shown interest in the agent's invitation, he had no plans on following up with her request. "I know what kind of jobs they're looking for," he said, "and they're dumb." I, on the other hand, liked the prospect of being represented by a talent agency and followed through in enrolling. It's not like I had anything to lose.

Doing this, however, was not easy. The drive to the agency took hours. Once I was there, they told me I needed headshots, so I had to spend another day driving around the entire world to find the discreet location where a certain photographer worked. After spending the time and money on the photographs, I schlepped all the way back to the agency just to finalize the enlistment, which resulted in years of small talk with the receptionist.

Over the months that followed, nothing much happened. I would receive only a few emails from the agency here and there, telling me about castings and auditions that I would be a good match for. These would not come from my agent herself but from other employees working there; the agent never made any personal contact with me. Unfortunately, most of these jobs were held at places many hours away, on school days, and I obviously had no transportation there whatsoever. The agency apparently mistook my inability to attend these castings as either deliberate laziness or an "I'm too good for this" attitude. I actually saw my agent at several theater events during that time, and she completely shunned me. She would greet and speak with Logan, who had not enrolled as she asked, as though they were old pals. I would be standing right next to him but she would pretend like I didn't exist. This happened repeatedly. Logan revealed to me that in some of those conversations, my agent had been subtly pressuring him to audition for certain offers, the same kinds of offers I had received emails for — only he WASN'T part of the agency. Logan would employ the same technique with every encounter: graciously accept and promise to look into the casting, then never do it. He was deliberately avoiding her and she flocked to him more and more, whereas I was honestly unable to attend the castings and was ostracized for it.

As college began and I moved away, I forgot all about the trivialities of the agency, until I saw my agent on Facebook. She had befriended Logan and a few other people my age on the site, but of course, not me. She left comments on my Logan's posts, asking him to call the agency for "an offer he couldn't refuse." To this day, he has not called her despite his constant confirmations that he will. And still, she tracks him down and begs him to in a never-ending game of cat and mouse. To my knowledge, I am still a part of the agency and have NEVER been contacted, much less acknowledged, by her personally.

Normally, I would start to rant and rave here about how I have been mistreated, but I actually find the whole scenario so pointless and laughable that I don't even seek any retribution. My agent can go off and continue flirting with Logan; he will never accept her offers. It's her loss, and other than taking the time to write out this whole thing, I frankly couldn't care less. ☜

I can't believe I didn't write about this earlier.

I absolutely despise when INSANE people (WHO, BY THE WAY, NEED TO BE COMMITTED TO ASYLUMS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE) try to move past you in a cramped space and do so by placing a hand on your shoulder and physically MOVING YOU OUT OF THE WAY so that they can get by. I'm not talking about when a casual passerby tries to slip behind you and merely brushes your shoulder with a hand, as this can be interpreted as "I'm making sure I don't bump into or hurt you while I get by." I am talking about the rude, ignorant swine who take this simple act too far by applying pressure and PUSHING your shoulder so that they can make their way through crowds faster. I experienced this numerous times, the most recent being today. I can hardly remember how I possibly made it through the rest of these days without exploding at every single IDIOT who's done this.

Not to draw absurd stereotypes here, but the most common offenders seem to be young, muscle-bound, Ed Hardy-clad strutters who walk with a definite purpose and don't let any ordinary, polite people stand in their path to the alcohol or rusty gym equipment. I can understand how the phrase "excuse me" isn't realistic in every situation, particularly those in which people naturally try to be higher and mightier than their peers and couldn't be bothered to speak such "mainstream" phrases to inferiors. But there are alternatives, such as slipping through narrow outlets without touching anyone or waiting patiently until those in the crowd move of their own accord.

NEVER, NEVER, NEVER is it appropriate to just put your GRIMY, FILTH-COVERED PALMS ON MY CLEAN, TONED SHOULDERS AND EXERT FORCE TO ALTER MY POSITION. IF I CHOOSE TO SITUATE MYSELF IN A CERTAIN SPOT, YOU RESPECT IT AND I MIGHT POSSIBLY CONSIDER LETTING YOU CROSS MY PATH. IF NOT, YOU FIND ANOTHER WAY. FREAKS. ☜

As I lied awake in bed, I remembered the most insane, ridiculous thing my seventh grade English teacher said one day in class. I don't know why.

We were discussing the class novel, The Watsons Go To Birmingham — 1963. In the book, the title family was taking a vacation during the time of the Civil Rights movement. We were at a part where the young boy in the family (I can't recall exactly the situation nor the boy's name) was "running so fast and for so long that the picture of the boy and his dog on the inside of his shoe was fading away." Again, not an exact quote, but that was the main gist of the thought. It is described in the story that his shoes are of the Buster Brown brand. So, I took that quote to mean that the logo on the inside of the character's shoe — a boy and his dog — was fading away due to being stepped on with the wear and tear of running. I didn't think this was difficult to understand, but a few students in my class were confused by the reference. My teacher, whose name I am still debating on making public, gave her own alternative interpretation of the sentence in question:

"In those times, whenever children would get holes in their shoes, they would sometimes draw a picture on a piece of paper and stick it in their shoe to cover the hole. He must've chosen to draw a picture of a boy and his dog, and then stuck it in his shoe to cover one of those holes."

WHAT?! Uh. . . when did anyone EVER do that? Why would anyone draw a picture on a piece of paper and STICK IT IN THEIR SHOE?! TO COVER A HOLE?! HOW WOULD THAT DO ANYTHING?! HOW WOULD THAT EVEN COME CLOSE TO POSSIBLY DOING ANYTHING?!?! This severely idiotic teacher completely overlooked the possibility that the boy and his dog was, in fact, the LOGO for the Buster Brown brand of shoes. I was only in seventh grade and had never seen the Buster Brown logo before, and even I could draw that simple conclusion. The idea that she would try to pass off that completely nonsensical word vomit as the correct or even possible explanation to a classroom of students is absolutely pathetic. I don't remember if anyone bothered to correct her, but I do remember she was not employed at my middle school a few years later. Her name was, oh, I don't know, Mrs. Caines. ☜

A few months ago, a friend introduced me to a website called Lockerz. It was supposedly something of a social networking site that allowed members to earn points by playing games and whatnot and purchase real-life prizes with those points. These prizes included video games, iPods, watches, and the like. Though it seemed childish and dumb, it was free and required no personal information, so I thought I'd give it a try.

The first thing I noticed about the website was that it seemed a bit too easy to win the free prizes they offered. Two points (which they pretentiously stylize as "PTZ") were awarded for logging in, two were given for answering the "daily" question (a random poll about a subject in the news), and a dozen or so were given just for signing up. In less than two weeks, a new member would already have enough for a small prize. By referring others to the site, that member could potentially gain hundreds of points and buy more expensive products. . . all without doing much of anything. How would Lockerz be able to afford this? They did not charge real money in any way and did not have any advertisements on the website. I investigated, and discovered they were (and still are) owned by Liberty Media Corporation, a conglomerate that owns such companies as DirecTV. Thus, I'd expect them to be at least a little trustworthy and not a total scam.

Every day I would sign in to the site and answer the poll, slowly accumulating points. Something laughable I noticed was that Lockerz advertised itself as a "hangout" for listening to music, watching videos, and chatting with friends. . . but did not actually offer any of these things. Those features were, and still are, in a somewhat eternal beta phase. They've said "coming soon" when clicked on for months now. This was acceptable at first when the site was new, but to this day they have not done one solitary thing to advance the music and videos' openings. Actually, the only way to get any points at all is by answering that poll and signing in — NOTHING ELSE. THE SITE LITERALLY OFFERS NOTHING ELSE TO DO. I didn't mind though, because my plan was only to get in, buy a certain prize, and get out. I couldn't care less about the rest of the features. Even stupider were the t-shirts and wallpapers offered with the Lockerz logo printed on them, complete with phrases like "Come Out and Play!" and "I ♥ Lockerz!" Why would anyone waste their points for such absolute POINTLESS garbage? Especially when the wallpapers, if desired by ANYONE AT ALL, can be right-clicked on and applied as a wallpaper without paying? But again, I tried to ignore the nonsense and just focus on my points.

The frustrating part of this little childish site was that the prizes themselves were ALWAYS out of stock. Every day the Lockerz team would send a message out saying that they would be restocking soon, and even after months, they restocked ONCE and only on a limited number of items. That stock was depleted COMPLETELY within the day. My friends gave me proof that the site did submit the prizes as promised, but I didn't take advantage of it because at that time I hadn't accumulated enough points for the item I wanted. I just sat back and hoped that they'd eventually restock again. But, things became more irritating because soon the process of just getting the points started to break down as well. The Lockerz system kept glitching as thousands of users had tried cheating by signing up multiple times from different email addresses. Many times, I wouldn't get any points for signing in and occasionally, the daily question would not save my answer or not appear at all.

Today, Lockerz reached an all-time low: not only are they out of stock of every prize, the daily question (which, remember, is the ONLY feature on the site) hasn't been posted for two days in a row. So, Lockerz literally is completely empty of any content. Then, they have the nerve to post ANNOYING homemade videos of celebrities giving pathetic interviews or answering their own daily questions. Because I tend to complain out loud to companies, I wrote an email to Lockerz Support inquiring about all of the aforementioned problems. I got a reply a few days later answering a COMPLETELY different question from the ones I had asked.

This website would not be notable nonsense if it was, say, Timmy O'Toole fooling around in his basement. But this is a "legit" site owned and operated by a REAL company, Liberty Media Corp. My only question is, WHY? Why create this website at all?! They aren't making money for themselves, as they don't charge money and don't run ads. They aren't fostering any social networking other than a dumb anonymous poll, and they are obligated to give out expensive prizes to thousands of users for nothing! It just seems ridiculously USELESS in every respect, and I have wasted my time on it for NOTHING. ☜

As a bonus encore entry, Gainesville features many tiny bits of inconvenience that are no cause for alarm independently, but as a whole, drag down my experience here ever so slightly:

• Steam smelling of putrid sewer waste rises from manholes all about the campus, enveloping passersby with horrid stench.

• Many buildings here, particularly Carr Hall, smell of urine and feces DAILY. The Rec Center also smells horrible, but I can't place a description on it (perhaps feet and chemicals).

• Buses and UF-based vehicles keep driving even when students are in the crosswalk. I have been nearly hit twice now.

• There is no communication when it is necessary — I went to the tutoring center to obtain a final exam review packet only to be told it was found solely online. I walked home and went to the website they gave me and it was not there. I called them back and the receptionist told me that the woman whose job it was to put the packets online WENT HOME EARLY and that there was nothing anyone could do about it.

• My apartment has no barrier for sound whatsoever, so I hear conversations in the parking lot below ALL THE TIME, all night long. And none of them are juicy, just irritating.

• A pool of broken glass has lined the sidewalk nearby; it was only cleaned up by the county a few weeks ago after being present for months. In addition, an unrelated sidewalk (and one I use frequently) was labeled CLOSED for a few days when NO ONE WAS WORKING ON IT IN ANY WAY.

• When visiting a friend's dorm, the automatic door to enter and exit the floor breaks repeatedly for both of us, requiring him to knock incessantly, praying someone will hear. No one has bothered to even report it for repair.

• The campus is, above all, UGLY! The landscaping is horrible: every instance of grass is spotted with empty dirt patches, the trees are not kept trim at all, leaves just gather in walkways dirtily, and the ONLY attempt at a lake is murky with a weak, pathetic fountain.

• All services offered, from the SNAP vans designed to give students rides late at night, to the food delivery service, come HOURS after they are summoned. Sometimes they fail to show up at all.

If my earlier nonstop grievances were a vanilla sundae, I'd say these are the cherries on top of a perfect year. ☜

And so the woes for an undeclared major continue.

The only reason I came to this university as an undeclared major in the first place was because I wanted to take a variety of classes — classes that don't necessarily go together or fall under any one track. I thought that because UF "affectionately" labels us Exploratory students, we'd be permitted to explore majors and take what we wanted AS THEY TOLD US (within reason, of course). WELL, WOULDN'T YOU KNOW IT BY NOW? THIS IS NOT THE CASE.

I've always longed to be somewhat knowledgeable in music theory, and I thought I might be able to meet with a music advisor here in order to sign up for Music Theory 1. NOTHING FANCY. Just the most introductory course. I journey to the music building and before I can even sit down, I am told that the course is only open to music majors and minors because of space. I'm not forbidden to enroll in it. It is ONLY because they fear they'll run out of space that they turn me away. Never does anyone lift a finger to actually check if there is space or not. Plus, this is the second semester. Wouldn't all the majors and minors who needed to take Music Theory 1 in the first place have already taken it in their first semester?! What music student would go through the entire first semester NOT taking the FIRST theory course and then suddenly need it in the second semester?! I could accept this nonsense if someone had actually bothered to check whether the course was full or not, but in this school, common sense and decency are not important.

I ran into a similar situation when I tried to sign up for Acting 2. I'll just be frank and say that the only reason I have been able to survive here whatsoever is because I was generously allowed to take Acting 1 for Majors without being a theater major. When I tried to sign up for the course's natural successor, I had to fib and pretend I was "very close" to declaring my major as theater in order to get the green light. The truth is that I am nowhere closer to declaring a major, especially at this university. But if I had been denied Acting 2? What would I be taking?! Exploratory students are DOWNRIGHT LIED TO when they are told they are open to anything; in actuality, they are CLOSED TO EVERYTHING. I AM PAYING TO BE HERE. ☜

The on-campus Burger King here charges 11 cents for one package of barbecue sauce. Ketchup, however, is free. But I wanted barbecue sauce, not ketchup, and I did not have 11 cents. Out of spite, I took 25 packets of ketchup, five stacks of napkins, and seven straws. Yeah. ☜

When it comes to registering classes for a new semester, UF's students without a declared major are neglected and left wandering around in the dust, not knowing ANYTHING about what classes to sign up for. When I first came to this stupid institution, I was actually given a bit of help in deciding what classes to register for. Though the advice was nothing but "choose the classes that sound interesting to you," I figured that it was only the first semester and picking appropriate courses was not paramount. The credits I earned from passing AP tests were also not even touched upon, but I thought it didn't matter at the time.

Now, we are supposed to be picking new courses on our own, and I have learned absolutely nothing about what I am to be taking. Students with a declared major are lucky enough to have a track laid out for them: they simply fill up their schedules with whatever their track dictates. I however have no major and no track, and therefore no guidance about what to sign up for. My only intuition is to once again choose whatever sounds interesting to me, a philosophy that would seem ridiculous to continue through college with.

Being responsible, I decided to contact an academic advisor for assistance in the matter. When I called, nobody answered, as expected. It was a Friday and I didn't want to wait over the weekend, so I emailed the office instead. Days passed. Finally, someone responded saying that the advisors would not be taking appointments UNTIL AFTER THANKSGIVING BREAK. THE ONE TIME IN THE YEAR THAT STUDENTS ACTUALLY NEED TO SEE THEM AND THEY ARE TAKING AN EXTRA LONG VACATION. She then went on to say that they would be seeing walk-ins only. Unlike every other business in the WORLD, this ridiculous one gave walk-ins priority OVER those trying to make appointments.

The next day, a friend also seeking advisement reported back to me that the walk-in time would be FULL UNTIL AFTER THANKSGIVING BREAK. SOMEHOW, THEY HAVE DEVELOPED A WAY TO ACTUALLY BOOK AND SCHEDULE WALK-IN MEETINGS.

I have yet to explain that at UF, those with undeclared majors have the special euphemistic name of "Exploratory" students. Supposedly, they are "exploring" different majors until they find the one that fits them best. I decided to make use of this dumb description and explore film, a field I actually am interested in. Now, the website used to sign up for courses does not allow the user to search by the NAME of the course, only by the course number or department. I find this to be absolutely absurd — how would anyone who has NOT ever taken the class in question POSSIBLY know its course number when the number is composed of three random letters and four random digits?!?! And if searching by department, why don't film classes come up under ANY of the related department names?!?! I asked a friend who had already taken the introductory film class for the course number, and not to anyone's surprise, it was already full. Just as it had been when I tried to enroll in it for this past semester. I expect that it will continue to be full for years to come. How is an EXPLORATORY student supposed to EXPLORE and actually discover a major worth pursuing when the course they're interested in is FULL EVERY SEMESTER? ☜

Apparently, a large portion of the world does not know what the ordinary abbreviation "A.D." means; specifically, the A.D. that follows the dates of years to show that they are not "B.C." Over half of the people I have ever met think that it means "After Death," a rumor that was perpetuated in childhood when little kids wanted to show they were smarter than everyone else by knowing what A.D. stood for. Unlike other childhood myths, this one has not outgrown the schoolyard and many college-aged students STILL think that "After Death" is what it stands for. There are even many adults who think this as well.

A.D. actually has always stood for Anno Domini, a Latin phrase meaning "in the year of our Lord." Even after having teachers and professors make this clarification many times throughout schooling, there continues to be the SAME number of people who are bewildered to find that they have been wrong all their lives. It isn't the simple misunderstanding that annoys me, it is the complete lack of logic in the meaning "After Death." If B.C. stands for Before Christ, which it does, and A.D. stood for "After Death," wouldn't that mean that Jesus lived ONLY during what would be labeled year 0? If he was not yet born in 1 B.C. but already dead in 1 A.D., that would mean he was only alive for one year. This conclusion is NOT DIFFICULT TO ARRIVE AT. I remember realizing it from a very young age. However, there are still HORDES of people who do not know what A.D. means and who probably NEVER will. Plus, they'll never have any reason to seek out the true meaning because anyone they converse with about the subject will most likely ALSO use the wrong meaning! ☜

I think the general etiquette at college house gatherings is just laughably absurd. There really is no etiquette at all, actually. In childhood, for example, parties are an intimate setting for someone and his close friends (or classmates) only. In the early teenage years, they're still attended mostly by friends, but occasionally, a guest may bring a few other acquaintances. No harm there. In college, however, they are flat-out free-for-alls where complete strangers just barge in and squat in someone's private apartment, making messes and consuming food and drink to their heart's content. Never once do they so much as make eye contact with the actual hostesses of the party; these intruders just invade the apartment, take what or whom they need, and leave without a word.

What's amusing about these situations isn't the problem itself, but the facetiousness with which all of this is addressed. Quite simply, NO ONE CARES. Or, they care, but the behavior is just so commonplace that no one can really speak up without seeming horribly rude and "inexperienced to how college works." Basically, by deciding to throw a house festivity, a college student is accepting the fact that inebriated thugs WILL show up uninvited, steal property, spill beverages on furniture, vomit everywhere, pass out on the nicest couch, and forget to take their friends with them if they EVER leave. Then, after all of this has happened, the party guests are still expected to treat the intruders like friends, while the hostesses are only allowed to politely ask them to leave. When the night is over, no one will have learned the names of any of the perpetrators, and that will be completely and utterly normal. ☜

As you can see if you're reading this around the time of publication, Nonsense Report looks a bit different from its usual clean, crisp self. This is because the online tool on which I manage and run the site, Google Page Creator, has been retired and replaced with a newer website program called Google Sites. As such, all of my work on Page Creator has suddenly been moved (without my prior inspection) to Sites. Unfortunately, this is the most unwanted, ridiculous move ever because not only has Sites CLEARLY ruined the once-professional look of nonsense report, it is by far the most difficult website manager to use. No longer can I swiftly type and save exactly what I see. Now, there are unwelcome white boxes interfering with the words' positioning; they are not removable. The font of the entries is too small and the next size up is far too big. Before I went back and corrected it, Sites made all of the words on the page bold. It also appears as though the lines are squeezed together, and there is no way to increase the paragraph spacing. Though I have now removed them, there were two POINTLESS orange boxes on the bottom of the page when I first started these corrections. Had I not deleted them, there would have been miles-worth of scrolling to do to reach the very bottom of the page.

Imagine. All of these problems beleaguered Nonsense Report when the site is made up of SOLELY text. What kinds of problems faced website users whose sites were garnished with images, banners, hyperlinks, video, and other HTML-heavy miscellanea? Plus, this site is purely for entertainment and an outlet for ranting. What if someone's BUSINESS website had been migrated to Google Sites and been a victim of these horrible changes? I know I would reconsider the company if I visited their website for the first time and observed the horrors of Google Sites. I don't care that Sites is allowing me to host my website for free — they better get their act together or I can easily spread far more angry complaints about them all over the Internet. ☜

Two nights ago, I took my second math exam of the semester. I chose a seat isolated from the rest of the crowded hall, but as expected, even my section soon became full of students. I didn't mind until one particular girl strolled in and sat directly behind me.

I slowly turned around and was surprised to see that I recognized her. This was the ditzy, gum-smacking Valley girl-esque débutante that happened to sit near me in class. She threw her bags down and removed her sunglasses (this was a night exam) and immediately started coughing. No one minded this at first.

But then she coughed again. And again. And several times more. Once she got over a spell, another one was quick on its heels. THIS GIRL COUGHED REPEATEDLY THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE COURSE OF THE EXAM, NONSTOP. People started looking around at her and groaning loudly. She literally coughed at least four times a minute, every minute, and she was DIRECTLY behind me. Her only pathetic attempt to recover was to sip from a water bottle — a water bottle she accidentally dropped and watched roll down the sloped floor of the auditorium quite a few times. I could not concentrate on the exam and probably failed it JUST because of that horrific distraction.

As if that wasn't enough, the freak then decided to raise her hand and seek help from our teachers during the test. When they would walk over to her, she'd whisper her questions in a stereotypically hoarse teenage girl's squeaky voice, only infuriating everyone more.

"Sorry, I can't tell you. You should know how to do that problem," the teachers would say sternly. This LUNATIC would then press on with, "Please, can't you just give me a hint?" or "I know, but I just need you to tell me how to do this step!" When the teacher taking her question had had enough and walked away, she just went right back to coughing.

Today, she appeared in class and complained loudly about the difficulty of the test. She even made comments, such as "I'm so stupid, can you just give me the points on that last problem?" and "If you would've told me how to do that step I would've gotten it right!" She continued on this way, disturbing everyone for the entire period.

I'M SORRY — HOW MANY HONEST, HARDWORKING, DIGNIFIED STUDENTS DID THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA HAVE TO REJECT IN ORDER TO SAVE A THRONE FOR THIS DEVIANT? WHAT A PATHETIC INSULT TO US SLIGHTLY LESS DEVIANT, SLIGHTLY MORE HARDWORKING STUDENTS THAT THIS INSTITUTION ONCE HELD IN HIGH REGARD. ☜

As of late, my apartment bedroom has become a hub for sickness, disease, filth, and the like. Whenever I spend a few hours inside the room, I consistently feel feverish and sluggish; I also develop bouts of coughing and break out in itchy patches. I try to sleep and cannot get comfortable. It is always too cold or too hot no matter how I fixate my blankets. I even lose my appetite completely, no matter how long it's been since my last meal.

However, as soon as I depart from the godforsaken place, I feel completely fine and healthy. It's as though a Dementor dwells within my living quarters and by leaving, I am free from its rattling, breathy hullabaloo.

I purposely leave the fan spinning at full speed when I leave the room, but when I return, various odors of unknown age and source just waft around the place anyway. NO ONE KNOWS HOW THEY GET THERE. These smells (NOT CREATED OR BROUGHT ABOUT BY ME) have included urine, various kinds of sauce and seasoning, pure sweat (even when I have not been in the room for many hours) and rotting food (even though the only scraps of anything edible within a ten foot radius of the place are completely non-perishable and odorless).

To top it off, there is such little storage in this dinky bedroom that I am forced to leave most of my possessions out in the open, strewn around messily, only adding a touch of visual nausea to the olfactory and LITERAL ones already present. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE IN A PLACE THAT MAKES ME PHYSICALLY SICK FOR NO REASON AT ALL? ☜

Fire drills are absolutely pointless. The only purpose in undertaking them is to simulate what to do in the event of an ACTUAL emergency, which should mean exiting the building as quickly as possible no matter what. Whether it be a drill or a real fire, the main idea is to GET OUT. Yet, for the past several years, this has not been the case for any fire drill I have ever been involved in. EVERY fire drill now consists of people looking around at each other and the instructor, waiting for someone to tell them if the alarm is sounding for a legitimate fire drill or if it is just being "tested." As such, no one leaves the building for several minutes as they glance around at each other stupidly, hovering above their seats, not knowing what to do.

We have been classically conditioned to react this way because, for some unknown, nonsensical reason, the administrations of high schools and colleges feel it necessary to randomly test fire alarms several times a month, with no apparent progress or success. Thus, the fire alarm constantly rings when it is not a drill and some voice on the PA has to instruct everyone not to leave. Over so many times, everyone just assumes that the fire alarm ringing is just a test, and NO ONE LISTENS OR CARES ABOUT IT ANYMORE. Even I, an alert and observant student, cannot follow protocol and just leave the building for my own safety at the sound of the alarm because no one else does and it would look ridiculous if I just exited the room alone. WHY CAN'T SCHOOLS TEST THE ALARMS OUTSIDE CLASS HOURS?! One day everyone is going to perish in a terrible school fire and they'll all regret not heeding my humble warning. ☜

Having been around students in the theater for a number of years, I've learned the ways most young actors go about performing monologues and scenes. And I've always wondered why drama students tend to say lines in more or less the same manner, even though people in real life have much more varied speaking patterns. To me, drama students can emote and interpret the meaning of lines, but it's very rare that I ever see a performance containing a natural amount of pauses, stumbling, hesitation, or lapses in thought — even though normal conversations are rich with these.

Why is this? I'll tell you why. When reading scripts, if anyone takes a pause longer than a split second, everyone ALWAYS interprets it to mean that the actor doesn't know how to read, pronounce, or remember the next word. If the actor is reading lines with a group, a dozen voices immediately whisper the word to try to "help" them. If the actor is onstage performing, everyone just jumps to the conclusion that a long pause means they MUST'VE forgotten their line. No one can intentionally stumble over a word as a character choice, even though real people do. Inevitably, someone will think the ACTOR stumbled, and not their character.

Unfortunately, it doesn't seem as though we'll ever get past this predicament, for one recurring reason. Whenever students are to perform theater work, there is so much emphasis on just MEMORIZING the lines that there's rarely time to actually think about the piece. Usually there is just so much confusion and rushing to even get something presentable onstage AT ALL before opening night that no one has any time or energy left to give second thoughts to creating a character, thinking about their interactions, etc. The common urge amongst the entire cast is usually to just get the whole thing over with. Because of these innate feelings toward theater, most people will NEVER be able to escape the lifelong habit of just going onstage and "reciting lines with emotion." I am not angry, but I am quite sad. ☜

For those who think my UF complaints were premature or exaggerated, let me just say that the dining hours have still not changed, the ambulance sirens have INCREASED if anything, and the library has STILL not contacted me about the book I reserved. ☜

A little more than two weeks ago, I went to the main library here on campus to find something worthwhile to read. Unfortunately, the quadruple-story building had nothing but scholarly works and textbooks that looked like they hadn't been touched in years. Eventually, I managed to reserve something more normal through their catalog — a novel called Invisible Monsters. The site said it would hold it for me because all copies were checked out. TO THIS DAY, NOBODY HAS GOTTEN BACK TO ME, AND I DON'T THINK ANYONE EVER WILL. ☜

The University of Florida has a rather large problem that nobody really seems to notice or care about. Unbelievably, about 90% of the dining places here on campus aren't open past 9 pm. In order to eat at later times, one must go to Taco Bell or Subway, the only two restaurants with enough common sense to have their doors open until at LEAST midnight. Often these two establishments have lines wrapping around corners and tables completely full due to the congestion of customers.

THIS IS COLLEGE. Why does the administration seem to think that no one wants to eat after 9? Or, why do they assume that everyone is actually ABLE to eat before that time? This is a place where students study at 3 in the morning, go to class at 7 in the evening, and sleep for 12 hours in the daytime. WE NEED FOOD. How much business are they denying themselves by not having the eateries open until at the VERY LEAST, 10 PM?!?!?!?! After walking home from a night event, I overheard students behind me remarking about their hunger and wishing that the dining hall was still open.

Worse, many students here have meal plans that entitle them to visit two dining halls and two other restaurants and eat for free there. But, the hours of all those places are so ridiculous that the money is inevitably being flushed down the drain. Two of those restaurants, Home Zone (Comfort Foods with a Twist!) and Orange & Brew, are CLOSED ON WEEKENDS. In fact, the Hub, a building composed of four different restaurants, is also completely SHUT DOWN on Saturdays and Sundays. The same is true of Burger King. DO PEOPLE NOT EAT ON WEEKENDS? IN FACT, WITHOUT CLASSES, STUDENTS WOULD BE MORE INCLINED TO VISIT SIT-DOWN RESTAURANTS A FEW TIMES A DAY AND SPEND MORE TIME THERE ON THOSE DAYS. As if this wasn't bad enough, a good portion of the dining establishments at this university close at around 3 or 4 pm on FRIDAYS. . . FRIDAYS!

WHY IS THIS?!?!?!? No one can say that this "strategy" is for money-saving purposes, because there are no less than FOUR Starbucks coffee shops within UF grounds. I'm not sure exactly how the university and Starbucks are situated businesswise, but something tells me they could make due with closing one of those Starbucks if they are strapped for cash (or open one more to generate income?). Either way, there's no way finances could be an issue here, especially when the football team generates MILLIONS OF DOLLARS.

On a side note, I went to the science library this weekend to find it closed. STUDENTS DO HOMEWORK ON WEEKENDS, SOMETIMES. WHILE THEY EAT. WHAT POSSIBLE EXPLANATION COULD ANYONE OFFER ME FOR THIS RIDICULOUS SCHEDULE OF ABSOLUTE NONSENSE?! ☜

This is a "live" entry; that is, what I am about to say is happening at the very moment I am typing this sentence. FOR SOME UNKNOWN REASON, DOZENS OF POLICE SIRENS BLARE EVERY NIGHT ALL AROUND THIS TOWN. It isn't just the crescendo of an approaching ambulance followed by the fade away of the vehicle driving off — the sirens are CONSISTENTLY the same volume for SEVERAL MINUTES at a time. To top if off, they are all RIGHT on the street outside my window and there are MANY vehicles traveling SIMULTANEOUSLY. HOW MANY EMERGENCIES HAPPEN IN GAINESVILLE (and not even at UF itself, because the street on which those sirens travel runs parallel to campus, meaning they aren't entering or leaving the grounds) THAT OUR ENTIRE STAFF OF PUBLIC SAFETY MUST CONGREGATE ON 13TH STREET EVERY NIGHT!?!?!?!?!?!?!??! THIS NONSENSE HAS LEFT ME LITERALLY SHOUTING "SHUT UP!" FROM INSIDE MY APARTMENT IN SOME PATHETIC EFFORT THAT SOMEONE OUT THERE WILL HEAR ME AND ACTUALLY OBEY ME IF THEY DO. ☜

About a week ago, I received a postcard in the mail saying that all incoming UF freshmen were REQUIRED to attend a convocation meeting called "Navigating the Swamp" on Friday, 21 August, at 9:30 AM on campus. It implied that students were expected to have read the school's common reading novel, The Devil's Highway, for the event. To my uttermost frustration, this meant I would need to leave home to return to Gainesville for good on Thursday morning instead of Saturday as I would've preferred. I'd be losing two very valuable days in my summer JUST to attend one ceremony. I called a phone number listed with the rest of the information and asked the secretary what would happen if one were to hypothetically miss the meeting. She said that each individual college would take strict attendance of all students, and the consequences of not attending were either writing a five-page paper on The Devil's Highway (which I hadn't read) or several days of community service. Highly irritated but not wanting to face the punishments, I reluctantly and belligerently left two days early.

The convocation was this morning. It was held in a basketball arena and was designed to resemble a graduation, complete with "Pomp and Circumstance" playing in the background for absolutely no reason. There were to be two halves to the ceremony: an introduction with speeches by various staff and a panel discussion about The Devil's Highway. Rumor had it that every student would have to answer questions about the book in the latter half.

As expected, the speeches by the staff proved to be the most pointless, time-wasting addresses I've ever heard at this school. Deans of various colleges took turns introducing themselves and repeating the same nonsensical banter every minute. The phrases "You are working to achieve a standard of excellence," "College is full of opportunities to grow in both body and mind," and "We are proud to welcome you future leaders of the world" darted around like wildfire. Actually, I can't even remember any exact phrases despite my paying utmost attention; those were just approximations. That's how STUPID the whole thing was. We were even asked to attach small UF-themed pins to our neighbors' respective "lapels" to SOMEHOW show a sense of belonging and pride to the class. Then, various television screens around the arena projected live video of people in the room doing that (against their will and without their permission).

Finally, after HOURS of being warmly welcomed to the point of nausea by every dean, professor, and janitor in the whole university, the proceedings moved on to the book discussion period. Most students left the arena to be split up in various groups for the discussion, but my college just happened to be the one to remain there. After all settled once again, there were still THOUSANDS of students there with me — FAR too many to ever be tested individually.

I thought perhaps this portion of the ceremony would be interesting, as the author of the common reading novel was actually present and eager to talk and answer questions about his book. DON'T EVER TRUST ME ON ANYTHING AGAIN. THIS SECOND HALF, WHICH TOOK —LITERALLY— HOURS, WAS THE MOST BORING EVENT EVER TO TAKE PLACE IN THE COSMOS. Five different adults, including the author himself, sat in a row onstage as a "panel." There, they talked for HOURS AND HOURS about ABSOLUTE NONSENSE and tried desperately to disguise it as material related to the book's theme of undocumented immigration. Picture the television network C-SPAN. This event was like sitting in for a live taping of C-SPAN for HOURS. Did I mention how many HOURS this went on?!

I wish I could comment on exactly what was said by each panel member, but the whole thing was SO boring that I couldn't remember their words if I tried. I do remember that the author kept trying to sound like a hotshot by dropping names of politicians he'd worked with every two seconds. After what seemed like several eternities, it appeared as though the monstrosity was finally over. BUT IT WAS NOT, OF COURSE. The panel invited students to come up and present questions for the author, and about a DOZEN students did! Instead of answering their questions normally, the author used his speaking time to brag even more. Each question took over ten minutes to answer.

At this point I could no longer take it, so a few friends joined me in walking around the arena near the exit. There, we asked a woman in charge if attendance was still going to be taken as they had said. She said that they were, in the form of us writing and signing our names on dumb slips of paper to be put into large plastic bins. So, if my name is common enough for another student to share it, there would be NO way of identifying who's whom. . . IDIOTS.

Desperately tired and hungry, my friends and I returned to our seats to make noises, call out obscenities and doze off as obnoxiously as possible in revolt to the nonsense before us. FINALLY — FINALLY — FINALLY — AFTER LONG LAST, THE ABOMINATION WAS OVER. Students darted like madmen for the exits. A friend of mine stopped to make sure that the slips of the paper were REALLY the method by which attendance was to be taken. He asked a student helper who said that, no, "you were supposed to send a text message or something."

WHAT!?!!?! "You were supposed to send a text message. . . OR SOMETHING?!?!" What is this absolute insanity?!?!!? WHAT text message? Send a text message to WHAT!?! What if I don't have a texting plan or a cell phone at all!?! Fittingly, my own cell phone had died the day before and I really could not comply with the ABSURDITY this girl spewed. Luckily, she seemed to abandon her response almost immediately, because when my friend asked for clarification, she said, "I don't know. Don't worry about it."

So, when all was said and done, I had spent YEARS listening to useless speech after useless speech. I LEFT MIAMI TWO DAYS EARLY AGAINST MY WILL SOLELY FOR THIS ABSOLUTE GARBAGE MEETING AND GOT LESS THAN NOTHING OUT OF IT. I AM TOO ENRAGED TO EVEN CONCLUDE THIS RIDICULOUS HATE SPEECH ANY FURTHER. ☜

Today I was walking down the hallway to my dorm room when I saw a custodian mopping the floor. I didn't want to disturb his work, so I made noticeable steps to cling to the wall and walk in a narrow line.

Even with my OBVIOUS efforts to avoid dirtying the floor, the custodian stopped what he was doing and looked up at me. He gave a look so subtle and slight, any average observer would miss it. But I didn't. He was actually IRRITATED by my walking through his area.

WELL WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? JUST PUT MY LIFE ON HOLD AND NOT GO TO MY OWN PERSONAL ROOM JUST BECAUSE HE'S MOPPING? I DID THE BEST I COULD TO NOT RUIN HIS HANDIWORK — MANY PEOPLE WOULDN'T HAVE EVEN TRIED TO GO OUT OF THEIR WAY LIKE I DID! IF YOU DON'T WANT ANYONE INTERRUPTING YOU, WHY NOT WORK AT 1:30 AM LIKE EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS GODFORSAKEN PLACE?! ☜

Why is it that, in any social situation, heavy rap and hip hop music reign supreme? Whenever a party is being put together for new students at a college, for example, it's just naturally assumed that everyone loves rap music and is accustomed to terms like "swag," "donk," and "jerking." During pool parties and the like, speakers blast the most profane of lyrics at the most profane of decibels and nobody says anything. I myself like hip hop but know plenty of people who don't. Even so, by some social standard, no one is allowed to speak up. We have to just stand there, nod along, and pretend that songs about popping caps in hood rats whilst wearing grillz and seeking payment from various promiscuous women in clubs is what we relate to.

What's more, it seems like everyone whose music of choice is rap or hip hop expects everyone else to love it as MUCH as they do, or to at least know the names of rap artists. You're also expected to know how to do each song's individual dance. If you don't, you're looked down upon and made fun of. Yet those same listeners could care less if they knew anything about rock artists, or any other genre for that matter.

Just the other day, I was walking by the local pool when I heard the most explicit, vulgar rap music absolutely blaring out of huge speakers. Looking over, the speakers belonged to two individual guests, not to a party. NO ONE CARED. THIS MUSIC WAS LITERALLY AUDIBLE FOR MILES AROUND AND NO ONE HAD ANY PROBLEM WITH IT. Yet I'm SURE if the pool guests were listening to screamo, for example, there would be protests to stop within minutes. ☜

I'm very bored all the time, so I recently started watching a television series online. The website hosting the program, ABC.com, has a standalone video window where all the episodes can be watched. As expected, there are advertisements preceding and following each episode and in spots where commercial breaks would have been.

I found it nice that, every so often, the episode would simply continue playing and NOT go to a commercial break even where one was expected. HOWEVER, the ABC player apparently was not programmed to handle this, and so the cursor (which I use to make the window full-screen or adjust the volume, etc) stops working. Completely. I assume this is so that viewers don't simply bypass the advertisements that normally would've played, which is understandable. The episode continues but I cannot alter any settings until the NEXT commercial break comes.

WHAT'S INSANE is that after each ad plays, you have to manually click play again to continue watching the show— but with the cursor unusable, there is absolutely NO way to resume the episode! Basically, the cursor is disabled so I can NEVER CLICK PLAY AGAIN!!! Pathetically, I am stuck looking at the advertisement's window forever! My only option is to reload the ENTIRE episode from scratch and move the timeline to where I left off, which means I must watch at least three more series of commercials first! So, instead of ABC's player being nice and removing one of the ads for my viewing pleasure, I am stuck watching THREE TIMES more ads than I was supposed to!

TO TOP IT OFF, THE EXACT SAME VIDEO PLAYS OVER AND OVER FOR THE SAME BRANDS EVERY SINGLE TIME! I WILL NOT EVEN MENTION WHAT BRANDS THOSE ARE AS TO NOT GIVE THEM ANY SORT OF PUBLICITY. ☜

How dare the Black Eyed Peas use the phrases mazel tov and l'chaim in their newest nonsense single "I Gotta Feeling"? ESPECIALLY in a no-rules, partying, alcohol, strippers, and drugs situation, when none of the members of the band are even the least bit close to being Jewish. HOW DARE THEY BELITTLE THE BELOVED PHRASES OF MY CULTURE. WHAT A HORRIBLE "CLUB ANTHEM." ☜

For some reason, the city of Gainesville (or the county of Alachua) finds it necessary to carry out road construction on 13th Street, the road right outside my bedroom window, AT 1:30 AM EVERY NIGHT. Throughout the entire day, the road is completely quiet, but as soon as it passes midnight, a bunch of huge construction trucks show up and start going in reverse. They don't even move forward— ONLY IN REVERSE. Thus, several trucks simultaneously produce the same downright infuriating "going-in-reverse" sound ALL NIGHT.

Worse still, the next morning, the street is just as fragmentary as it was the day before. No progress is EVER made, so the construction just continues night after night! SHUT UP! ☜

Well, it's official: the University of Florida has sided with the terrorists.

Independence Day came and went here on campus with not so much as a peep of celebration from anyone. Though it's understandable for there not to have been a fireworks show because of budget cuts/lack of funding/the economy/blah blah blah/whatever, UF had NOTHING for the Fourth of July whatsoever.

I roamed about the school on that Saturday afternoon hoping to find a barbecue, a pool party, any outdoor games, or at the very least, someone waving Old Glory in the wind. There was absolutely nothing. The entire campus was absolutely deserted.

What's highly stupid is that the activities organization has planned many OTHER barbecues this summer, such as a random Thai-themed gathering coming up. They also held a cookout a few days BEFORE July 4th. So why not do ANYTHING on the holiday? Highly disrespectful, in my book.

To make matters worse, I figured I'd explore the streets that evening hoping if I could observe some fireworks, but I only ended up in the worst neighborhood since Miami's The Projects. As soon as I made the first turn onto a strange avenue, I saw an automobile on fire in the distance, heard people yelling indecipherable banter, and witnessed strange characters pacing the sidewalks. As I tried to escape, I heard gunshots all around me (NOT firework cracks).

What a pitiful display (or lack thereof) on the University of Florida's part. Just because you aren't patriotic, doesn't mean I'm not. Even though I'm not. BUT WHEN I PAY MONEY TO BE HERE I SHOULD GET SOMETHING OUT OF IT. ☜

What's the point of buying a souvenir for a friend or family member who DIDN'T go on the trip? Not that it isn't fun to receive a gift for no reason at all, but who started this practice? Why would I want to have a keepsake of somebody ELSE'S memories?! Shouldn't I then get a gift on someone else's birthday, anniversary, and graduation as well? ☜

In the wizarding world of Harry Potter, Hogwarts students who misbehave are often punished by having their respective House's points docked by a professor. Unless other students are around to witness the incident or the crime itself is notable, it isn't known who caused the loss in points, meaning no one will necessarily be able to look down on the perpetrator. The only advantage to having House points at all is to be the one House that wins the House Cup at the end of the year. This accomplishment has no real bearing on any students' lives other than a bit of glory and their House's colors being displayed at a feast.

As a Hogwarts student, how would taking away my House's points do ANYTHING to curb my behavior or encourage me to straighten up and fly right? So what if I don't win the House Cup? Three Houses are guaranteed not to win anyway, and it's a victory that nobody cares about after that one day. What a stupid, pointless punishment. ☜

When I used to spend oodles of time in video game arcades, I was always the businessman of my group of friends. I didn't care about having fun playing racing or shooter attractions like they did— all I played were the "games" in which the player simply places a token through the slot and watches it fall down and push other tokens off various ledges. The object of this, as I'm sure you know, is to have one's token shoot strategically so that it knocks off as many tokens as possible. Though the game is suspenseful, it really isn't fun; even when the player wins, he or she only receives a few tickets. Which leads me to my next point.

ARCADE TICKETS ARE INSANE. Now that I had accumulated something to show for all of my toil on that one game, I'd always make my way to the prize counter confidently, rolls and rolls of tickets in hand. But even with thousands of tickets, I'd still only be able to get eraser caps, sticky gel hands on strings, paper finger traps, and other pointless garbage. My parents would spend so much money on tokens for me JUST to win tickets to buy these stupid prizes. I didn't even have fun in the arcade itself. Then, whenever I'd pick out whatever small item seemed the most fun, I'd of course forget about it hours later.

Occasionally, I'd go to one of these arcades with a friend and we would split our tickets and choose one big prize to share. But even with this advantage, we were STILL unable to get anything better than a small plastic squirt gun. The friend and I would then be in a pickle over determining who would get the toy on which day. And, to top it off, even when we DID sort out a suitable plan, we'd forget all about the squirt gun days later. ☜

I'll never understand why people choose to make tally marks incorrectly. When keeping score of a game or counting a set of items, there are some individuals who write FIVE (or MORE) tally marks without using a slash to bind them together. That is, they just continuously add ticks to the board without any decency or respect to anyone else who may want to count their totals. This is excusable the very first time (kindergarten?) but anyone caught committing this crime after that is INSANE.

There are also some people that continue this mistake just to be "cool," as though correctly binding sets of tally marks is somehow too mainstream or nerdy for them. However, the worst offenders are those who still do it and then are utterly perplexed when they see someone tallying correctly — like they're being awakened to the practice for the first time. HOW CAN ANYONE STILL NOT KNOW HOW TO MAKE TALLY MARKS?!?!?!?!?! ☜

How is it possible that the following two phrases are BOTH accepted by society?

• "Nothing in life is free."

• "The best things in life are free."

How can they both be true?! ☜

Many newer automobiles are made with an optional feature called "daytime running lamps." Basically, for an additional fee, the car’s headlights can be configured to always be on, so that they run during the day. This is in addition to the normal ones that run when the driver manually turns them on at night. As you may have guessed, daytime running lamps are the most useless feature ever conceived, and an obvious attempt to milk customers out of a few thousand dollars.

I don’t know about y'all, but I have NEVER had ANY problem seeing the road in the middle of the day. Ever. I have actually turned on my full set of headlights by accident while it was bright and sunny, and I didn’t even notice they were on. Having more light on the road in full sunlight is completely pointless, and anyone who opts to spend money on such a feature for their vehicle is a complete and utter dumdum. ☜

I often receive friend requests on Facebook from people I don’t know, as many people do. I am most frequently requested by schoolmates I have seen but have never actually spoken to. At first, I used to simply deny these people; I dismissed them as desperately competing for popularity by upping their friend counts. As of late, however, my mood has softened and I am currently accepting most of the requests I receive. Lately, I figure I’ll at least give the dweebs a chance to make a new friend; I am exceedingly friendly by nature anyway. What’s the harm?

However, I have NEVER been contacted by ANY of the 26 odd individuals who have been so insane as to add me since I’ve changed my policy. They simply add me, I accept, and we continue to move on in our lives without even knowing each other. Sometimes I actually encounter these people in real life, and they usually don’t even give me a second glance.

What’s the point of this? What is going through these people’s minds as they actually take the time to click "Add as Friend" beside my picture and confirm their choice in the prompt window? Are they mindlessly going through robotic motions, not even aware of the fact that we’ve never met?! IF YOU ARE ONE OF THESE PEOPLE, I ORDER YOU TO SPEAK TO ME RIGHT NOW! Please?! ☜

Anything relating to searching, applying, auditioning, and paying for college could fill ten volumes of Nonsense Report alone. There are so many black holes, gray areas, and forks in the road when it comes to planning for the future that it is almost inconceivable that anyone could ever do it properly. The most commonly recurring problem I face (and that I am always reprimanded for saying) is that NO ONE EVER TELLS ME WHAT I’M SUPPOSED TO BE DOING.

Unfortunately, anytime I say that, everyone I know says, "You’re supposed to be figuring this all out yourself. You’re almost an adult. Look up everything you need to know." That is the worst information and most unhelpful advice anyone could ever spew. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT I’M SUPPOSED TO DO TO FIGURE THINGS OUT?! I WAS, AND STILL AM, NEVER TOLD ABOUT WHAT’S EVEN GOING ON! HOW DO I KNOW WHAT INFORMATION I’M SUPPOSED TO RESEARCH?!

First of all, the only reason I started applying for any colleges in the first place is because I overheard fellow classmates talking about how they had started their applications. I never received any sort of instruction from an authority figure actually telling me to begin applying, even though the earliest applications were due within just a few weeks. So, the ONLY reason I began any sort of advancement at all is because I was eavesdropping on a private conversation.

That was actually just the tip of the tiniest extension of the iceberg, because after knowing that I was supposed to start applying, I had no idea where to apply. I knew to research the Florida schools, of course, but outside of that, what was I to do?! Once again, the only information I had acquired on the subject was through the grapevine. I HAD NO WAY OF KNOWING WHAT SCHOOLS WERE GOOD FOR WHAT MAJOR! I HAD ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA OF KNOWING WHAT PROS OF A COLLEGE WERE LEGITIMATE AND WHAT WERE JUST HYPE! To this, I was told to look at college brochures. However, no one seemed to realize that colleges TRY to make themselves look as good as possible in brochures. Other than communicating the college’s factual information such as size and location, brochures did nothing for me.

I looked at colleges like looking at many brands of pizza. Actually, that is a lie. But it is an analogy that works well now. Colleges are all different pizza restaurants, to me. They all are going to say their pizza is best. And all of their respective pizzas may be very good and attract lots of customers to eat there. The fast-food places attract people. The exquisite restaurants attract people. Those in the middle attract people. The near places, the far places, the big and the small. Reading the brochures, I’ll find out factoids such as which pizza costs the most or the least, what toppings are offered, and how big the restaurants are. Now, if I were to choose a pizza restaurant that was just average, this would be okay. I could simply eat at another restaurant the next time. But, what if I were forced to choose a restaurant solely from the information in the brochure and eat pizza for all of my meals from that restaurant only for the next four years? Now the choice would be a lot more crucial. My question was, and still is: HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW– AND I MEAN REALLY KNOW– WHICH OF THOSE IS ACTUALLY WORTHWHILE AND THE BEST FOR ME?!

Now, imagine doing all of this having never heard of any pizza restaurants in your life outside of those immediately down the block. THAT IS EXACTLY HOW I FELT (AND STILL FEEL) ABOUT ANYTHING COLLEGE-RELATED.

Midway through this process, I was told by the school college adviser that applying for different scholarships was "something not to worry about till later in the year." Once again, I was never told HOW the process would work, but then again, she implied that it was unimportant at the time. I was actually under the impression that either Coral Reef or a university I planned to attend would grant all the scholarships for me.

Now, as expected, I’m finding out through word of mouth that we should have been applying for scholarships already. SOME OF THEM, INCLUDING ONES THAT ACTUALLY WOULD BENEFIT ME, HAD DUE DATES AS FAR BACK AS OCTOBER OF 2008! HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THESE EXISTED?!

I recently applied to scholarship websites (once again, heard from friends and not from an official source) in hopes of finding anything pertaining to me. Instead of getting help, I am just bombarded by emails from these sites. The only scholarships they recommend are completely ridiculous for my situation and only suitable for students ALREADY in college, military veterans’ descendants, children of deceased parents, left-handed individuals, and Holocaust survivors. I’ve found absolutely nothing outside of random, generic grants of $1000 split up amongst 234,335,657 people.

Worst of all, anytime I receive any word about the aforementioned problems, I only figure out how to curb (NOT solve) them AFTER THEIR DEADLINES HAVE PASSED. Some insane things in this world are just mild irritants, annoying me only when I encounter them and for a very brief period of time afterward. BUT THIS COLLEGE NONSENSE ACTUALLY AFFECTS MY FUTURE AND I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO DO ANYTHING TO HELP IT. ☜

I have just discovered the most DANGEROUS THING EVER! There's a feature found on Apple computers called "screen sharing." One user requests another to share screens, and if that person accepts, both users get access to BOTH screens. Not only do they VIEW each other's screen, but they can also CONTROL BOTH COMPUTERS! This means that if I request my friend to share screens with me, I can look through their files, folders, documents, pictures... EVERYTHING ON THEIR COMPUTER. Plus, both users get control of the cursor at the same time, so I can fight for control and do anything I want. Even more dangerously, I actually was able to restart and shut down my friend's computer against her will. Does anyone realize how insanely insecure this feature is? It's the coolest thing ever, but it's WAY too easy to use for malicious purposes. PLUS, THE PERSON FROM WHOM I LEARNED THIS INFORMATION WAS ONLY 10 YEARS OLD! YOU DO THE MATH! ☜

What's with the horrible quality of security cameras? The only point of having a security camera is to have a CLEAR picture of whomever is being filmed! Why invest money in having such a SECURITY feature if the picture is always blocky, blurry and unreadable? Why can we invest so much money in high-definition televisions, yet no one will bother to pay for at least a DECENT security camera? ☜

Some school days make you really appreciate the effort teachers make to expand students' minds and pump them up for a successful future. Some days sail by uneventfully, but still feature a tidbit here or there to make them worthy of living. Other days, such as today, are so unbelievably insane and absolutely pointless that they leave you wondering if it's even possible to take one more step forward without ripping up the universe.

Coral Reef, the "academic oasis of Miami-Dade high schools," administered the PSAT practice test today to sophomores and juniors. As part of the test, no classes could be conducted for anyone all day. Though I don't know what freshmen did throughout the time, seniors suffered through the most idiotic "presentations" ever conceived by man or any other creature.

After being forced like cows into the gym, the entire class of 2009 sat, absolutely bored and traumatized, watching a team of rappers completely humiliate themselves as they attempted to rhyme about "positive issues" to the uninterested crowd. Using phrases like "Whurr mah barracudas at?!" and "How many of y'all gonna grow up and talk to ya kids? Actually be there for 'em?", the pathetic group, deemed LP Productions, only received mock cheering and sarcastic applause, amongst utter bewilderment.

As we watched in silence, many strange and absurd activities took place as part of the presentation: a freestyle rap contest among four Coral Reef students, a beatboxing man who could not decide what noises to actually imitate, and a couple of motivational speakers (also rappers) who only screeched into their microphones. Nearly every one of the guests claimed they had been in jail, sold drugs, or had absolute lunatics for parents. They seemed to think our student body was the same way, spending the next few hours deterring us from joining gangs or selling drugs and telling us to go to college instead. Hasn't anyone ever told them that we'll sell drugs and join gangs IN college.

However, the most downright distressing and depressing act to watch was a young man, also a senior in high school, attempting to break a wooden baseball bat in half by pressing it down over his thigh. Supposedly, completing this act would justify and negate his former cocaine addiction. After several attempts, complete with inspirational music playing in the background, he could not budge the bat to break at all. It was really quite embarrassing. He even went as far as requesting strong guys from the audience to help him, but they too failed.

After several hours, the nonsense was finally over. What did we learn? Well, what CAN you learn from a bunch of hoodlums-turned-goodlums who roar into the microphones to the point of absolute incoherence? Not much. At one point, they even tried to throw in a "don't forget to vote" message in one of the raps. So much for that.

But then, to our uttermost DEATH, the nonsense continued even further! After being herded like elephants into the auditorium and waiting for years, the hokum grew exponentially.

A big, teenage girl came out onto the stage in tight, unflattering clothes and announced the beginning of a concert. Overly enthusiastic, she screeched out an introduction for her friends, Erica Lee and Step-Ezz (pronounced "step easy").

Both of these performers utterly embarrassed themselves by trying to rile up the already lethargic crowd. Erica Lee, a preteen brimming with flashy, ghetto accessories, sang about how residents of Miami "let the band play."

Step-Ezz, bless his soul, held the microphone so close to his mouth that it wasn't possible to decipher any of his words. He milked the catchphrase of the day: "MAKE SOME NOISE," although no noise was made by anyone in the audience.

The rest of the concert continued in this way. The two "artists" would take turns showing off onstage, praying for any sort of response from the student body. It is so sickening to revisit the incidents that I won't even bother recalling the rest. Just picture the worst hip hop singers you've ever heard. Someday, these performers may hope to be on that level. ☜

You'd think that if a high school has sold tickets to their homecoming dance every year for a decade, they may have some clue as to how to do it properly already. Well this is Nonsense Report, so of course, mine does not.

Coral Reef recently announced it would be selling the tickets to the annual, beloved event. They started this past Monday during lunch. Only seniors could purchase their tickets that day, and the other grade levels would have to wait until Tuesday or later. Responsibly, I brought a check on Monday and went to the courtyard to buy my admission.

Unbelievably, the sales area was absolutely packed with what seemed like a thousand students. Each ticketing line was overflowing with seniors standing everywhere, so much so that all of the individual lines blended together to create a giant, out-of-control mob. No one could even see the front of the lines anymore. As I irritatedly stood in back of a line (dumbly categorized as "Last Names Beginning With A-M") I eventually realized that no one was making any progress WHATSOEVER. Even after ten minutes of waiting, NO ONE had been served yet. The mighty, blazing sun was directly overhead and burning everyone to death. Sweat was visible on the brows and backs of all the suffering students. It was the most uncomfortable experience EVER.

I was knowingly wasting my entire lunchtime to stand in the stupid line, but I felt the reward would be worth it. After forty minutes of standing stationary, I FINALLY almost reached the front of the line. There were only four or five dumdums ahead of me.

To my horror, the various administrators overseeing this debacle suddenly announced that sales would end for the day. As they ordered the students back to class, they promised a small strip of paper to those who had waited for so long, ensuring the frustrated crowd first-serve tomorrow. The printing of said strips took ten more minutes — time that could have been used to actually finish the remaining sales! Everyone groaned loudly.

By the time the next day rolled around, everyone with a strip was glad to finally be released for lunch. Or at least they should've been. I'm not a psychic.

Unfathomably, the crowd of NEW students waiting to purchase tickets was triple the size from the day before. As students rushed to the front waving their slips of paper, the administrators just ignored them and droned "go to the back." Apparently, their rationale was that the students with the white strips were just somehow supposed to be excused BEFORE lunch to purchase a ticket before the lunchtime crowd. HOWEVER, AN ANNOUNCEMENT MADE TEN MINUTES EARLIER EXPRESSLY FORBADE TEACHERS FROM RELEASING ANY STUDENTS EARLY TO BUY A HOMECOMING TICKET!

After much pushing, shoving, skipping, and other acts I'm not proud to admit, I FINALLY bought the dumb postcard that they pathetically deemed a homecoming ticket. IT IS BLATANTLY OBVIOUS THAT CORAL REEF HAS ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA HOW TO DO ANYTHING. ☜

I'm a big fan of chicken soup. Many of my meals consist solely of a can from Campbell's Chunky line. I eat soup quite often and recently tried a new line of soups by Campbell's, branded with the name "Select Harvest." Apparently, this selection sheds the company's usual array of strange chemicals in favor of more natural ingredients.

A commercial for this product compares it to the soups made by chief rival, Progresso. In the spot, Progresso is bashed for having MSG and other chemical ingredients, whereas Campbell's has only "natural sea salt" and "vegetables grown on a south-facing slope." (?????)

What's strange about this is that Campbell's' OTHER families of soup, including but not limited to Condensed, Chunky, Healthy Request, and Soup at Hand, all DO contain the very same chemical ingredients that the advertisements were degrading. Select Harvest may be free of MSG, but Campbell's other soups are chock full of it.

Did I mention that Select Harvest costs about a billion dollars more than the other families of soup at the grocery store? So am I to believe that if settle on a modestly-priced can of soup which just so happens to be loaded with MSG, I am making an unhealthy, life-threatening decision... even if that choice is Campbell's brand?! WHY NOT JUST ELIMINATE THE MSG ALTOGETHER IF IT'S SO BAD?! ☜

Has anyone ever noticed that when someone answers the phone and says "hello," their voice shoots up twenty octaves?!?! ☜

At around 7:20 PM EST yesterday, my MacBook laptop computer, affectionately known as "God Almighty," crashed a few times in succession and never made it back.

As I surfed the Internet, everything suddenly came to a halt as every application failed to respond if opened. All of the repeated clicking, keyboard tapping and frustrated noises in the world could not awaken the computer from its comatose-like state. I held the power button down for a few seconds in a (safe) attempt to restart it.

However, after the familiar power-on sound, a series of other noises emitted from the machine in the form of ticking, whistling, and what sounded like horrible wailing. My beloved white Apple never reached the desktop again. Instead, a flashing image of a folder emblazoned with a question mark appeared on the screen and continues to do so to this day. Although this event happened yesterday so it doesn't really seem as noteworthy yet.

Out of respect for my dear little machine, I will not hold annoyance with the actual system crash and subsequent death of the laptop. Those things happen. Even when a laptop is ONLY a year old, they happen. My utter anger lies in the fact that every single file, including every document, photograph, video, and Internet bookmark is presumably GONE FOREVER. After reading about similar incidents happening to fellow Mac users, it is safe to assume that there is absolutely no way to recover these lost treasures.

To add insult to injury, Apple itself will not even cover the cost of repairing the laptop because the one-year warranty the machine was covered by JUST expired. I have no idea how much money it'll cost to fix this thing, but anything higher than $0 is starting to look real irritating to me. It's been a year and two months. How can this happen to a self-proclaimed "revolutionary," "state-of-the-art" product?! What kind of customer service mantra is this — ONCE A WARRANTY IS OVER, YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN, TOO BAD, SO SAD?!

Sorry for not raising my voice more, but it's September 11th. Jeez. ☜

It's obvious that the public school system in this country is riddled with flaws, but one huge problem in particular resurfaces yearly.

Due to the layout and length of the school year, there is not enough time to learn all of the material found in the textbooks of a history class. As such, I have NEVER formally learned about anything in history past World War II. The war in Vietnam, the Watergate scandal, the Gulf War, and even the presidencies of Carter and Reagan are completely foreign to me.

This isn't an issue of poor instruction on my teachers' parts; there is quite simply NO time in the two semesters to get to these topics. There are seemingly enough weeks to learn about the personal lives of every Mound Builder and Anasazi Indian who have ever lived, yes. Months can be spent debating about conquistadors and how much gold they wanted. That's all fine and dandy, but millions of schoolchildren nationwide know nothing about ANYTHING that has taken place in the past 60 years.

As college quickly approaches, my classmates and I will be thrown out into new worlds, clueless about anything in the world's history from the most recent half-century. That's sad.

IT'S ALSO DEPRESSING TO REALIZE THAT I HAVE LEARNED AND RELEARNED THE DEFINITIONS OF MEAN, MEDIAN, AND MODE EVERY SINGLE YEAR SINCE THE FOURTH GRADE, YET HAVE LEARNED NOTHING IN HISTORY PAST WORLD WAR II, EVER. ☜

My school offers small cartons of milk with both breakfast and lunch, so I usually pick up a chocolate every morning. On the carton, there is a small indentation to conveniently poke the straw through, so one does not have to deal with ripping open the paper packaging and manually drinking the milk.

With the school meals also comes a set of utensils in a wrapper: a spork, straw, and napkin. As far back as I can remember, the straw in this package was perfect for use with the milk cartons. As straws go, it had a sharp end used to puncture the drink carton and a round end to sip from. No problem.

HOWEVER, for no reason whatsoever, the clueless company who makes these small utensil packs has suddenly started to produce straws with NO sharp end. Now both ends are round, making it quite impossible to poke through that small indentation on the milk carton. I actually did try to use this new straw and was horribly inconvenienced when it just prodded my chocolate milk and didn't even come close to opening it.

My only option was to open the carton the "dumb" way; that is, pulling apart that stupid paper seal and putting the straw in it. This was the absolute worst because the stupid opening didn't completely separate — it left a thin paper lining intact which immediately got drenched and soggy from the milk. Not only was this mess completely disgusting to try and consume, but I was undertaking the entire adventure in the middle of a classroom full of tough-looking, closed-minded-appearing street thugs. (Okay, well SOME of them were.)

Let me just throw this out there — WHY would the manufacturers of these straws suddenly throw out the blueprints (which seem one hundred percent successful) and suddenly start producing straws DIFFERENTLY? Are there people really sitting around a conference room saying to each other, "The design of our school lunch straws needs to be changed" and actually taking the time to alter their machinery to now make straws with two rounded ends?! It's not like this is saving MONEY, as simple mathematics would show there's LESS straw needed to produce a pointed tip than a round one. Did they simply decide that a sharp end is no longer profitable, or that no one would notice?! WELL I NOTICED. Now this nonsense, so subtle in appearance, will plague me DAILY when I drink chocolate milk. Nice going, IDIOTS. ☜

Life has been pretty sensible lately, so I will delve deep into my archives of experiences and turn your attention to something that happened several months ago.

After attending a friend's performance one night, I went to a nearby Dunkin' Donuts for a snack. Although up and running, I was appalled to find that the location was completely OUT of donuts. YEAH. They had absolutely NO donuts left, not even the disgusting flavors that nobody likes. HOW COULD THAT BE POSSIBLE AT DUNKIN' DONUTS!?!?!?!

Luckily, I was really only thirsty, so I settled on some fruit smoothie hunk-a-junk. But, to my horror, they were out of EVERY flavor of smoothie too! The woman behind the counter, in all her inexperience, acted as though being plumb out of the most commonly requested menu items was routine! I left the pathetic excuse for a "restaurant" and have never returned.

P.S. "America Runs on Dunkin'" is the stupidest slogan ever. I don't think further explanation is needed. ☜

A few months ago, I received a call from an unknown number on my cell phone. They asked for someone who wasn't there, so I told them "wrong number," hung up, and thought nothing more of it.

The next day though, around the same time, they called again. The speaker asked once more for an unknown person (a "Mr. David Naranjo"), claiming Naranjo had financial business to sort out with "Chase-Visa" (as though Chase Bank and the Visa credit card corporation share an office as a single entity). I dismissed them again, and curiously Googled the phone number.

The results showed many people around the country complaining on message boards about this exact number calling them too, at all hours of the day. Even when these confused individuals told "Chase-Visa" that the database had the wrong number, they continued to receive the nonsensical and annoying calls.

As expected, the fraudulent phone number dialed me again the next day. I told them I was well aware of their shady doings and that I would not put up with the abuse. The woman on the other end did not seem to understand what I was saying and continued to try and feed me corporate nonsense. I hung up, frustrated at the thought of random companies having my personal number but giddy at the idea of being able to yell at spammers every day.

Over the next days and weeks, the calls would continue at around noon on both weekdays and weekends. Sometimes I would pretend to BE David Naranjo and lead the telephonist on only to hang up at an unexpected moment. Other times I would yell and act insane. For some strange reason, if I myself dialed the number of this company, the line would ring and ring with no answer.

After a while, though, my new friends would often call me during class and I was getting a tiny bit sick of them. The time came when I finally stated to the man on the line that I was not David Naranjo, demanding that he remove my number from the system. He reluctantly did — I thought. The calls finally ceased for good, but I saved the phone number in my contacts just to remember the digits for the future. This was all months ago, remember.

Just a few days ago, THEY STARTED AGAIN. Even though the spokesman of the entire "Chase-Visa" operation said to me that he deleted my number from their database, they somehow got it back. That is, they somehow did NOT delete it when I specifically instructed them to. That is, the man lied and only told me what I wanted to hear so I would stop yelling and being difficult.

I couldn't believe it when I saw the same number from months ago flashing on my cell phone. I answered, amazed, and sure enough a man asked for a Mr. David Naranjo. I had decided that I had given them enough chances. Like flipping a light switch, I immediately turned into an enraged psychopath.

"I GOT CALLS FROM THIS NUMBER MONTHS AGO AND I REPEATEDLY TOLD THEM THAT THIS WAS NOT THE PERSON THEY WERE TRYING TO REACH. NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN, OR I WILL TAKE LEGAL ACTION AGAINST YOU," I screeched, then hung up.

A call came again the next day, which happened to be today. I demanded to speak to the supervisor or manager of the company, but the man on the other end required my account number in order to process my request. I told him I had none, so he asked why I was inquiring for the manager. I told him simply, "harassment." He promptly put me on hold (to Pachelbel's "Canon") for five minutes. Wouldn't you know it, ANOTHER CALL FROM THE NUMBER came WHILE I was on hold with the first one, AGAIN asking for Mr. Naranjo. Before I could even explain the situation, BOTH lines hung up. I never spoke to anyone of authority.

A few hours later, I was desperate to get to the bottom of the ordeal. I called the scam number back. The first four times only produced endless ringing, but someone actually answered the fifth time. I started to explain my days of enduring their abuse, but before I could finish a sentence, the woman hung up.

Sixth time: Man directs me to woman who is NOT the manager. Woman asks for my SOCIAL SECURITY number, JUST to speak to the manager! Hangs up when I refuse to give it.

Seventh time: Woman directs me to the manager's line; that line just so happens to no longer be in use.

Eighth time: Rather kind man puts me on hold for five minutes ("Canon" again) until line disconnects on its own.

So now, out of the kindness and generosity of my soul, I invite you to call, harass, abuse, annoy, frustrate, question, threaten, and generally infuriate the great people of "Chase-Visa" on your own. Apparently, they love their customers so much that they can't help but speak to them EVERY SINGLE DAY. ☜

847-488-3313

It's been like 500 years. Anyway, why does everyone in the world have — somewhere tucked away or hidden in an old bookshelf — an encyclopedia about birds?! EVERYONE in the world owns a copy of Birds of the World or A Fielder's Guide to Our Fine-Feathered Colleagues. WHY? Who are all these people who suddenly just have an unquenchable thirst for aviary factoids? Seriously, go look in a family member's old bookshelf. I guarantee in writing that he or she will own a bird-themed encyclopedia. WHY?!? ☜

As though laundry commercials aren't annoying enough, there's a new TV spot for Snuggle brand detergent that is absolutely insane. I wasn't paying particular attention to the ads themselves, but while lying on the couch relaxing I was suddenly bombarded with the loudest, most obnoxious chant anyone could ever concoct. As the familiar corporate bear fell through blankets, a female voice repeated, "DO THE MOVE! DO THE MOVE! DO THE MOVE!" shrilly and insanely. I jumped in both surprise and annoyance, not even aware of what this chant was saying. Do the what?! To this day, this utter nonsense resonates within me and I still have no idea why such garbage jingles can even hope to make me wish to purchase the product. To get a feel of what the jingle sounds like, "do the move" is to the first three notes of the song "Do Your Ears Hang Low." ☜

Texting is too expensive. On an AT&T family plan, unlimited texting (which has become downright close to absolutely necessary) costs $20 a month. That's ridiculous! I'm not asking for any equipment or manual labor, just the privilege to use a service I've ALREADY purchased in choosing the phone. Twenty dollars is a lot of money and a company's texting prices would personally make or break a deal. What about limited texting then? The less expensive 1500 or 200 texts-per-month plans are absolutely insane, by the way, because I have to physically check how many texts I have left which SUCKS. Then, when people keep bombarding me with messages to the point of going over the month's limit, there is no way to reject the messages. With overages rating at ten cents per message sent or received, someone could potentially force me to pay hundreds or thousands of dollars to AT&T if they wanted to AND I WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO DO ANYTHING TO STOP THEM. This is UNACCEPTABLE! ☜

I stood in the breakfast line like I do every day, waiting to be served the usual mess of barrel-bottom garbage and perhaps a package of cereal. Usually, all I eat is the cereal.

Today, a roll of greasy bread and a discus of sausage were being offered, so I requested those two in addition to my usual cereal. On any other day, this number of items would have been acceptable. Today, however, brought the most insane experience ever to the world. As I typed in my number on the keypad, the insane cashier woman reprimanded me for taking that number of breakfast items. Not wanting to cause trouble, I offered to give up the meat in favor of keeping the cereal and bread.

"You canna do dah," spat the woman insanely. Then, she swiped the KIX™ cereal from my tray and left me to accept it.

I was stunned. Never before had I been exposed to such rudeness. "I am offering to give up the meat. I would like the cereal," I stated calmly, trying not to spark this lunatic's temper.

"No, you cannah hah that," she answered angrily. I repeated myself, and so did she. A few more exchanges occurred before she stood up to get her "manager," who was just another worker of her level.

The manager was a round, tired-looking woman who lacked the ability to open her eyes. She reiterated the same hokum as my original cashier, though she was substantially ruder. "Begone," this woman told me.

I was treated horribly and left with the most disgusting filth ever to eat. Coral Reef's breakfast protocol must be changed. No one should accept such bunkum at this level. Those two raving maniacs must be fired at once and blacklisted from ever working in a school or other public eatery for the rest of their lives. ☜