University Delays Throughout the Years

February 1, 2010

We were walking through the snow in Farmville this Sunday when,  at 2:03 PM, we heard from all directions an animal howl:

“A!@#!@#TXCVE%Y%^UTNBVGW@$@EFVVS%^$&$%^&@!!@#!@#!@~!@GC X!!!!!”

It came from dorms and apartments, campus facilities and professors’ houses.  It was the sound of those who had just read the email from Time Pierson that said, despite the ten inches of snow, February 1st, 2o10, would be business as usual on campus.

At 5:08, Pierson sent another email, this time to announce a two-hour delay, which cured another volley of animal howls — and Facebook rants:

“why are we having class at all tomorrow? the roads are still a death trap and i’m sure campus is an icy mess too… this is so stupid, the delay isn’t going to do any good. They need to get people really plowing everything tomorrow so that we don’t have to break our necks to be bored in a class room all day.”

“{…}everyone should friend Tim Pierson on facebook and tell him how we really feel. I seriously hope someone sues the crap out of Longwood!!”

“gotta be fuckin kiddin me…if u walk to class shouldn’t be too bad, but trying to park/find parking in all of this shit is gonna be hell.”

“really Longwood, REALLY!”

“WTF LONGWOOD??? Above freezing during the day + wwwayyy below freezing during the night = SHEETS OF ICE IN THE MORNING, YOU IDIOTS!!! Aaaannndd plows mean absolutely no chance of parking. GREAT!”

What these students fail to remember is that Longwood has a grand tradition of offering the finest liberal arts education — even during the most difficult of times.

To the archives!

April, 1865:  “NOTICE:  It has come to our attention that The Army of Northern Virginia will be marching through Farmville, followed thereafter by the pursuing Union forces.  Thus, Longwood will operate on a two hour delay. Please give yourself additional time to arrive on campus so as not to be trampled, raped, kidnapped, murdered, or robbed.”

October, 1895:  “NOTICE:  Due to a pagan ritual gone awry, an active volcano has sprouted outside of the Cunningham dorms.  All classes, activities and services will open at normally scheduled hours. However, please give yourself additional time to arrive on campus.  Do not touch or play in the hot lava.  While sublimely beautiful, it is quite lethal, as two students have already demonstrated.  We appreciate your cooperation as we work to send this volcano back into the ground.”

February, 1918:  “NOTICE:  Classes will NOT be canceled because of the so-called flu pandemic. We have received information from the department of health that this is the Spanish Flu.  Last time we checked, Longwood University is in Virginia.  Not Spain.  Nice try, though.”

March, 1952:  “NOTICE:  Polio is no excuse to miss class. Did it ever stop FDR from accomplishing great things?  No.”

April, 1965:  “NOTICE:  Due to April showers that have caused significant flooding around campus, we May operate on a two hour delay for the next week.  Notice the emphasis on may.  However, until otherwise stated, all classes, activities and services will open at normally scheduled hours.

MAY, 1974:  “Did you hear that there’s a hail storm of unprecedented proportions scheduled to hit Farmville this Monday?  We didn’t, either.

April, 2001:  “It has come to our attention that Ruffner has burned down.  We understand if you are unable to take you exam, and all students will recieve passing grades in classes that — HAHAHAHAHAHAH just kidding.  All classes, activites and services will open at normally scheduled hours.


Strange Searches

November 30, 2009

WordPress is good enough to keep track of search engine queries that result in visits to this blog.  Some days are weirder than others…  

 

Our favorite:

He must have been so disappointed, bless his heart.   

 


Bad Carpools

November 24, 2009

#1  Bad conversations

Driver:  Seen any good movies?

Passenger:  Yeah.  The Informant! was pretty good –

Driver:  Did you see New Moon?  I saw New Moon.  Twice.  It was so good.  There was this line, “You give me everything by just breathing–

Passenger flings self out of vehicle.

 

#2  Bad navigators

Passenger:  [yawns, looks at watch] Hey!  We’ve been in the car for five hours…shouldn’t we be home by now?

Driver:  That’s what I thought.  But you said you were going to tell me where to turn!

Passenger:  I thought you were going to wake me up when you needed help!

Driver:  I’ve needed help since we left Farmville.  I don’t know where it is, you know, in relation to where we live.

Passenger:  It’s the heart of Virginia.  We’re from Nova.  You go north.  It’s not that hard.

Driver:  I’ve been driving north.  I think.

Passenger:  Why do all the license plates say South Carolina?

Driver:  Stop yelling at me!

 

#3  Grammar Issues

Driver: So…Can I get a handjob?

Passenger: Uh.  I don’t know, can you?  It’s may I get a handjob –

Driver: [slams on breaks] Get the fuck out of my car.

 

#4  Mental Issues

Passenger:  So how’s your semester been?

Driver:  Uhh,  you didn’t hear?

Passenger:  Hear what?

Driver:  My boyfriend broke up with me and, and…I tried to end it all.

Passenger:  What?   When was this?

Driver:  Like, a week ago.  But I’m better now.

Passenger:   Are you sure?  How about I drive?

Driver:  That’s okay.  Really, I do feel a lot better.

Passenger:   You’re such a happy person!  Why would you try to kill yourself?

Driver:  Because I waited till the last minute to get tickets to New Moon and they didn’t have any tickets left –

Passenger flings self out of vehicle


The conspiracy of the giant rat maze

November 23, 2009

We’re fairly certain that the chain link thoroughfares between Wygal and Brock Commons have nothing to do with student safety and everything to do with studying the spatial learning and memory capacity of Longwood students.  It is, essentially, a giant rat maze.

It’s taken us a few weeks to come to this conclusion — but the facts are sobering.  Let’s review:

1)  Every time we journey into the maze, we’ve seen a congregation of solemn-looking people in lab coats staring down at us from the library, writing on clipboards.

2)  There are an inordinate amount of right-angle turns and dead ends.  And there’s the electric shock — what’s up with that!?!?  That hurts!

3)  More than once, we have been tempted inside the maze by the aroma of grilled cheese sandwiches.  Despite  many exhaustive searches, we have yet to find such a sandwich in the maze.

4)  Once, after ten minutes of wrong turns and electric shock, we fell to the ground, curled into a fetal position, and started crying.  Suddenly, a friend appeared and helped us find out way out.  What was the friend’s major?  Psychology.  How convenient.

5) When we asked the aforementioned psychology major friend if this was, in fact, a giant rat maze, he laughed uneasily and told us we were “crazy.”  We pushed him against the wall and demanded an explanation.  He said “Dude, I don’t know…shit, maybe it really is a rat maze.  I don’t know.  Who cares, anyway?”   Since making this quasi-confession, this friend has disappeared, failing to return any of our calls for further elaboration.

Thus, we have been avoiding the maze as much as possible.  We wouldn’t wish its horrors on even our worst enemy.

However, if you’re still an unbeliever, we recommend you go fucking try it for yourself.


How The Bail handles car trouble

November 18, 2009

We just saw The Bail, the first time in a while.  Although he was bright-eyed and happy to see us, we couldn’t help but notice the limp in his step — and plus his head wasn’t as freshly shaven as normal, and he was wearing a homemade bandage over his right hand.

There was story behind this:

When I left the bar last night, my car wouldn’t unlock.  It was like someone had gone and put gunk or something in the keyhole so it wouldn’t turn properly.  I was so mad.  It kept making this grinding noise when I turned the key.  I had a spare key in my wallet, but of course that one didn’t work, either!

So I went back into the bar and I screamed WHO THE FUCK PUT GUNK IN MY KEYHOLE?  No one had any answers.  They just looked at me.  I went to the dining area and I saw this guy sweeping the floor.  I could tell he was trying to avoid eye contact.  He had a guilty look.  No one ever sweeps the floor with that much concentration.  So I went up to him and I said HEY MOTHERFUCKER — WAS IT YOU?   He said he didn’t know what I was talking about, and he went back to sweeping the floor. That made me even angrier!  So I grabbed his broom and yelled and said PAY ATTENTION TO ME, YOU LITTLE LYING MOTHERFUCKER.  I tried to split the broom in half, but it was pretty thick and plus I didn’t pick the right spot.  I hurt my knee pretty bad.   I howled, and then I chucked that fucking broom across the room.  It pierced the drywall like it was a spear!  I did not expect that.  That was pretty cool.

I went back outside and tried to unlock my car.  Still no luck.  So I took off my t-shirt, wrapped it around my hand, and punched a hole in the window.  Now, finally inside my car, you’d think all would be well.  But it wasn’t.  Someone had put gunk in the ignition as well!  I couldn’t turn my car on!

What made it even more infuriating was how sloppy they had  been.  There was a bottle of water in the cup holder that wasn’t mine.  There were some CDs that I didn’t recognize — they even left some of their clothes in my car!  The fuckers!  They had even smoked in my car!  It smelled like cigarettes!

I ended up walking home.  I kept taking breaks because my knee hurt like a bitch and I was really dizzy and also I must have cut a vein or something in my hand because it wouldn’t stop bleeding.  Somewhere along the way I crawled under some bushes and decided to take a rest.  And that’s where I woke up early this morning.  I’m lucky no one found me, cause I’d left this drippy trail of blood on the sidewalk that led right to the bushes!  There were some ants on the sidewalk that were eating some of it –  that sort of grossed me out.

But that’s not even the most fucked up part.  By far, the most fucked up part is that when I got to my house, there sat my car in the driveway.  My key worked!   The inside smelled like cinnamon again!   And the hole I had punched in the window was gone!

I was just walking to class, and I saw him, the dude who had been holding the broom at the bar.  I said hey and I was going to ask him how he fixed everything so quickly — but he ran the other way.

Oh, well.  Guess that will teach him to put gunk in my car’s keyhole.


Prank Week

November 9, 2009

When we say the phrase “ways to cope with the final quarter of a stressful semester” you’re probably going to think of things like alcohol, prayer, and plagiarism.  Certainly these work — for some people.  But what about the student not yet old enough to purchase alcohol, or too poor to purchase online term papers, or too morally bankrupt to pray?  What can she do to survive these last weeks and cast off this mortal coil?

Answer:

cake3

Yes, Prank Week is upon us!  A time to relieve your stress by causing stress in others!  If you’re in the library, stand up in your chair and howl “Woooooooodyyyyyyy” like the slinky dog in Toy Story.  Everyone will know that prank week is upon us.

Remember:  A good prank means no one gets physically hurt.  Mental injuries, of course, are fine.  Indeed, a bruised pride is often the consequence of a good prank, which is great, because it begets retaliation.  Everyone gets to have fun!

This week, we will be chronicling a few of Longwood’s notable pranks of yore.  If you have a well documented prank of your own, a few photos or maybe well written description of the event, email us (longwoodhole@gmail.com).   And if you’ve never done one before — what the hell are you waiting for?  Head on out to CVS, buy a value pack of feminine napkins, and let the shenanigans begin!


When Investments Self-Destruct

October 21, 2009

andersHello, again.  Happy Campus Sustainability Day.  I’m proud to be speaking at Longwood this afternoon, discussing the great green strides this school has achieved — efforts which have been made possible, for the most part, due to my largess.

In other news, my daughter tried to kill herself.

Kids — one minute they’re learning to walk, and the next minute they’re scarfing down a Tylenol parfait and sending you disturbing texts:

“i wnt u 2 no tht i <3 u … :  )”

Jasmine sent that to her mother, who forwarded the message to me.

I admit, I’ve never been very good at understand this texting; I had to ask Gerald, my intern, to act as decoder.

“It says ‘I want you to know that I love you.  Smiley face.’” Gerald said.

This may sound pedestrian enough — but I know from experience that any time Jasmine is texting smiley faces to her mother, you better look the hell out.

Luckily, Jasmine also posted a few of her fond farewells on Facebook, which her RA spotted.  Jasmine was found in bathtub, slowly fading away, typing into her laptop with one hand and texting with the other.  She was rushed to Southside, had her stomach pumped, and has been slated for release today, having suffered no permanent damage.

She seems to be a lot happier.

What about me, though?  How am I supposed to feel that my daughter didn’t even bother to send me a farewell text?  She could have at least CCed it to me!

“I was going to text you,” Jasmine said.  ”I was going to text you after Mrs. Duncan.”

So.  It seems that in my daughter’s absurd hierarchy, her middle  school swimming coach ranks higher than myself.

That’s how I’ve come to this realization:  furiously shoveling money onto an invest does not guarantee superlative dividends.

Just because I have provided Jasmine with an enviable life doesn’t mean that she will appreciate it.  Kids don’t appreciate money; they appreciate human interaction.

Thus, from now on, I will be visiting my daughter every weekend.  If I find myself in Irvine on Friday, I will  jet back to Farmville in time for Saturday brunch.  This may sound extreme, but I love my daughter: she is one investment I don’t want to see self-destruct.

Hope to see you around campus today.


Pizza Guy

October 20, 2009

Scene one:  Wing Shack

Dude 1:  These wings are so rad!

Dude 2: You only get ‘em like this at Wing Shack!

Pizza Guy: Everybody?  May I have your attention?  Those wings you are eating aren’t from Wing Shack.  They’re from Pizza Hut.

Dude 1: Oh.  Okay.

Dude 2: Ohhhh, I thought they tasted different.

Pizza Guy: Yeah, cause they’re from Pizza Hut, bitches!  Aren’t you embarrassed?

Dude 1: Not really.

Dude 2: Life is rad.

Pizza Guy: Fuck.

Scene two:  A wedding reception.  People making toasts.

Father of the bride:  …I’d like to say, right now, that I’ve never been so happy in my life, and I know that you two…

Pizza Guy: Excuse me, everyone, may I have your attention?  Those appetizers you’re eating?  They aren’t from some fancy catering service.  They’re from Pizza Hut.

Father of the bride: Hey, sit down, buddy, I’m trying to give a speech.

Pizza Guy: I’m just saying.  You’re a chump, man.  A fucking chump.  Look at you, you’re crying now.

Father of the bride: I’m crying because I’m so happy for my daughter.

Pizza Guy: Sure you are.  Sure you are.

Scene three:  Sunday morning mass

Priest:  Upright is the word of the Lord, and all his works are trustworthy…

Pizza Guy:  YOU ALL ARE IDIOTS!  THERE IS NO GOD!  ONLY PIZZA HUT!

Scene four:  An office

Boss:  We’re going to have to let you go.

Pizza Guy: What?  Why?

Boss: Because you’ve been promoting our restaurant without our permission.  We only hired you to deliver pizzas.

Pizza Guy: This doesn’t make any…oh, wait, it does make sense.  I know what you’re doing.   You’re going to wait until I’m crying and then you’re going to tell me that I really am being promoted, not fired.

Boss: You’re fired.

Pizza Guy:  Sure I am.

Boss: Security will escort you out.

Scene five:  Pizza Hut.  People are eating wings, everyone having a great time.

Pizza Guy: Excuse me, may I have your attention?  Those wings you are eating?  Do they taste good?

Dude One: They’re rad, man!  Pizza Hut is the best!

Pizza Guy: Well, I have some interesting news.  Those wings aren’t from Pizza Hut.  In fact, they’re not wings at all.

Dude Two:  Where are they from?  This is the best boneless chicken I’ve ever had.

Pizza Guy:  Yeah.  They’re not made of chicken.

Dude One:  Oh, fuck.  I’m going to be sick.

Pizza Guy:  VIVA LA PIZZA GUY!


W vs. F

October 15, 2009

Don’t panic, but the deadline to withdraw with a “W” on your transcript is today, October 14th, at 5:00 PM.  If you need help writing your withdrawal application, we are providing some tips –

Oh, never mind.  Yesterday was October 14.  Snap.

Well, here are some tips for coping with all those Fs.

1.  Creepy laughter:  Just because that F in your stats class will now go on your transcript and jostle your GPA doesn’t mean you should stay in bed at 9:00.  Go ahead and march up to third floor Ruffner, sit in the front row, and at random moments during the lecture enjoy a big ol belly laugh.  At first, people will get nervous, then they will wonder what you’re laughing about, why you’re so happy.  When someone asks why your laughing, start laughing even harder.

2.  Appreciate the little things in life: Things that are little include your self confidence, your bank account, and your remaining time at Longwood.

3.  Laying in mud puddles:  Nothing  soothes the nerves better than plopping down in a mud puddle and partaking in a little introspection.  If you can’t find a mud puddle after all the rain we’ve had recently, then son, you really are a fucking idiot.

4.  “Fail” : A person who says “Fail” is hilarious and not at all an idiot.   So when someone asks how you’re doing, say “fail.”  They’ll think you’re very, very witty.

5.   Learn how to knit:  This will come in handy now that you will be losing your scholarship and flunking out of school.  Clothes, as you will soon find, can be really expensive.  Learn to make them yourself.   Out of Wal-Mart bags.


There will be indie pukes

October 13, 2009

email21You may not have known it, but everyone has their own road.

For example, here’s what your road looks like right now:

your-road11

Is that the road you want?  Hell no –  that road is stupid and dry, ornamented with what looks like a cow skull but is actually all that will be left of you in ten years.

Clearly, you need to find a better road.  You need RoadTrip Nation.  This summer, travel the country with a bunch of complacent indie pukes quirky, smart students like yourself!

You think we’re kidding?  Put this in your hookah and smoke it:

manifesto

The Theodore Kaczynski manifesto, right?  No, silly!  It’s the RoadTrip Nation Manifesto.  Seriously.  There’s are a few differences.

Just remember: Open Road.  Explore.  Discover.  Slam poets. And Wanda Sykes.


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