shaunpgannon @ gmail dot com
I lived in a crappy townhouse complex owned by the university for a couple years when I was in undergrad. There was only one bathroom on the second floor, and when you sat on the toilet, if someone else sat or stood on their toilet in the apartment next door, our whole toilet would raise/lower by a centimeter or two - enough that you could visibly see it happen, not just feel it. Not sure why BSU bolted toilets to each other through walls, unless that’s the kind of thing they’re into.
Today I found out you can microwave cling wrap. I always assumed it would shrivel up like a plastic bag. “What a time to be alive” - Jasper
When I was in undergrad, I sublet a house one summer in a part of town where the frat rejects holed up. I was standing on the porch one night watching two of my neighbors shoot roman candles at each other. The last fight ended when the guy standing on his porch fired a shot across the street and into the mouth of the other guy. Everyone started laughing, including myself, excluding the guy who ate the purple fireball, who instead yelled “AAAGH. IT TASTES LIKE BURNING.”
At the end of second grade, it began to rain midway through Field Day, so we had to hold the tug-of-war tournament inside, the location being the main chapel — not down the chapel lengthwise, which would make sense, but “short-wise” in the space between the pulpit and the first row of pews, because someone in charge didn’t want anyone hitting their heads on the armrests of the pews when they fell down. There were two doors going behind the stage that led to the baptismal bathtub area, and the teams stretched along the rope beyond those doors into small corridors. At some point during the tug-of-war match, my pinky finger got trapped between the rope and the doorframe, and enough skin was ground off the finger that I didn’t have any visible/noticeable fingerprints on that part for the entirety of the summer — probably because it got infected at some point. I blasphemed enough that day that had it not been the last day of the school year, I would have been in pretty big trouble, so thanks for not expelling me so my parents wouldn’t sue.
Last year, at an undisclosed sporting goods store, the cashier spent so much effort pushing the store’s stupid club card that not only did she not realize she passed over $100 dollars worth of shoes, but I didn’t realize it either until I was in the parking lot, discussing with my roommate how much we had spent, and I looked at the receipt. Eeeeeeheheheheh