Good Lord, we are a bunch of self-absorbed inconsiderate assholes, aren't we?
I'm sure I'm not even aware of the billions of times a day I'm honking someone off doing something I'm not even cognizant of, but university students really are just despicable.
I arrive at class, perhaps a little late, and what do I see? Person, space, person, space, person, space, person. Well done, you thundering clod-munchers! You've managed to maximize the space utilized, but not the convenience or population within the classroom. Especially reprehensible is the mouth-breathing dolt who has parked himself on the aisle, content in the knowledge that now that HE/SHE has arrived, the class is complete and no-one else could crave a potion of the audience area. This is still the case after two months worth of packed math classes (and I do mean packed, I have never seen such a keen 8 am class). You think people would catch on, "Man, there's a lot of people in this class everyday, maybe I should suck up my latent social-phobia and park my rear one seat closer to the other person so that there is efficient seat usage." But no. This thought remains extinct in the grand majority of students.
Do you want to know what I do? (I am aware that this may remove any vestige of sympathy Dear Reader has retained for me in this circumstance) I move my ass on into the row. Damn right I do, and if my shapely keister happens to be in your face while I'm transporting myself to an available perch SO BE IT. What, did my stinky, had-since-seventh-grade, might-be-a-disease-vector backpack cause you to recoil into your ill-gotten chair? CUPCAKE. I would write "Move further into the aisle, next time, idiot." on my backpack at eye level if I thought it would penetrate. But it won't.
The other affront I have to negotiate on a daily basis is plug-ins. Along the main strip of my university there are a few second level lounges intended for socializing and lunch and what-have-you. Many people now (not in my time at university; the times they are a-different) have laptops, net-books, and such, that require a source of power to not dribble away to a useless lump of plastic. Some of the university supplied wall plug-ins have been BOLTED OVER, which I cannot even express how stupid that is, and so needless to say, plug-ins are a hot commodity. But some people, I'm staring at one right now, park themselves next to a plug-in, whip out their laptops, spread their shit on the table so no one can get close and bang away merrily, oblivious to the little sad face that pops up on my screen when I try to download all of "Indignant Ladies of Etiquette on Ice VII" in the lounge (it's for...um...research). I am sure I am provoking D.R's ire in saying this, but I have yet built up the guts to ask them to shove-a-bum and allow me to plug in. Perhaps one day I will.
The final obnoxious insult is conversational volume. These lounges, as I mentioned, are for socializing, so conversations are to be expected. If I wanted silence, I should attend the library, even if I cannot consume my potato salad there. But things have gotten out of hand. I wonder occasionally if, by virtue of my hermitage lifestyle, and night-shift solitude, my eardrums have become atrophied and incapable of dealing with background noise that is louder than the gentle fan I have on at work. But for crying out loud: I do not care about your latest translation of InuYasha, Lady; I do not give a flying rat's ass about how she startled you (It definitely does not need re-enacting), dude; and for the last time, yes the party on the weekend was "off-the-hook" but no one else cares and we think you have a tiny penis. The social/public nature of the area causes me to think twice about speaking up, because perhaps I am crazy, and should just post a little sign saying, "Do not approach the misanthrope", but I am going to post more personal details about people's lives if I have to hear them once more...
So, what is this indicative of? It's just like the politician who blamed his wife for failure to pay THEIR taxes; we have no accountability anymore. Lynn Truss summed the whole issue up the best in her book Talk to the Hand, she said, "Remember you are among other people; show some respect". The whole problem has gotten so far out of hand that we are surprised (SURPRISED) when a woman accused of murdering her husband pleads guilty. Of course she pled guilty, she damn-well did it! Even her grand-kids admit they had a conversation with her about how she blew off his head! When she tried to dispose of the body in an incinerator on her personal property, the repairman who attended the furnace asked why she wanted it, and she replied, "I want to burn my husband"! It is a reprehensible state of society if we must be taught humility and manners by a woman who gave her legally wedded husband an aural blow-job with a twelve gauge.
You know, I'd stand up for myself more, but I don't want to be rude.
I'm sure I'm not even aware of the billions of times a day I'm honking someone off doing something I'm not even cognizant of, but university students really are just despicable.
I arrive at class, perhaps a little late, and what do I see? Person, space, person, space, person, space, person. Well done, you thundering clod-munchers! You've managed to maximize the space utilized, but not the convenience or population within the classroom. Especially reprehensible is the mouth-breathing dolt who has parked himself on the aisle, content in the knowledge that now that HE/SHE has arrived, the class is complete and no-one else could crave a potion of the audience area. This is still the case after two months worth of packed math classes (and I do mean packed, I have never seen such a keen 8 am class). You think people would catch on, "Man, there's a lot of people in this class everyday, maybe I should suck up my latent social-phobia and park my rear one seat closer to the other person so that there is efficient seat usage." But no. This thought remains extinct in the grand majority of students.
Do you want to know what I do? (I am aware that this may remove any vestige of sympathy Dear Reader has retained for me in this circumstance) I move my ass on into the row. Damn right I do, and if my shapely keister happens to be in your face while I'm transporting myself to an available perch SO BE IT. What, did my stinky, had-since-seventh-grade, might-be-a-disease-vector backpack cause you to recoil into your ill-gotten chair? CUPCAKE. I would write "Move further into the aisle, next time, idiot." on my backpack at eye level if I thought it would penetrate. But it won't.
The other affront I have to negotiate on a daily basis is plug-ins. Along the main strip of my university there are a few second level lounges intended for socializing and lunch and what-have-you. Many people now (not in my time at university; the times they are a-different) have laptops, net-books, and such, that require a source of power to not dribble away to a useless lump of plastic. Some of the university supplied wall plug-ins have been BOLTED OVER, which I cannot even express how stupid that is, and so needless to say, plug-ins are a hot commodity. But some people, I'm staring at one right now, park themselves next to a plug-in, whip out their laptops, spread their shit on the table so no one can get close and bang away merrily, oblivious to the little sad face that pops up on my screen when I try to download all of "Indignant Ladies of Etiquette on Ice VII" in the lounge (it's for...um...research). I am sure I am provoking D.R's ire in saying this, but I have yet built up the guts to ask them to shove-a-bum and allow me to plug in. Perhaps one day I will.
The final obnoxious insult is conversational volume. These lounges, as I mentioned, are for socializing, so conversations are to be expected. If I wanted silence, I should attend the library, even if I cannot consume my potato salad there. But things have gotten out of hand. I wonder occasionally if, by virtue of my hermitage lifestyle, and night-shift solitude, my eardrums have become atrophied and incapable of dealing with background noise that is louder than the gentle fan I have on at work. But for crying out loud: I do not care about your latest translation of InuYasha, Lady; I do not give a flying rat's ass about how she startled you (It definitely does not need re-enacting), dude; and for the last time, yes the party on the weekend was "off-the-hook" but no one else cares and we think you have a tiny penis. The social/public nature of the area causes me to think twice about speaking up, because perhaps I am crazy, and should just post a little sign saying, "Do not approach the misanthrope", but I am going to post more personal details about people's lives if I have to hear them once more...
So, what is this indicative of? It's just like the politician who blamed his wife for failure to pay THEIR taxes; we have no accountability anymore. Lynn Truss summed the whole issue up the best in her book Talk to the Hand, she said, "Remember you are among other people; show some respect". The whole problem has gotten so far out of hand that we are surprised (SURPRISED) when a woman accused of murdering her husband pleads guilty. Of course she pled guilty, she damn-well did it! Even her grand-kids admit they had a conversation with her about how she blew off his head! When she tried to dispose of the body in an incinerator on her personal property, the repairman who attended the furnace asked why she wanted it, and she replied, "I want to burn my husband"! It is a reprehensible state of society if we must be taught humility and manners by a woman who gave her legally wedded husband an aural blow-job with a twelve gauge.
You know, I'd stand up for myself more, but I don't want to be rude.
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