ITS CRAZY. And it’s happening on our campus. Check this out. It’s certainly a what-the-hell moment.
On 03.04.10, In Findings, By Sarah
On 02.12.10, In Reviews, By Riley
I decided to take a new route from Friends to my noon class in Smiddy – why, I don’t know, nor does it matter – like it didn’t matter why Lewis and Clark trekked out to the West Coast. They made a discovery and so did I.
But instead of a new territory, I found a new bathroom, recently opened after the construction in the greener area of campus. But this bathroom is magnificent, luxurious, host to two rows of urinals!
Left side
To the right
This bathroom is so fresh, so new – I figured it just opened today – and that I, yes I, was among the first to use it. Upon closer inspection (note the trash bin) I wasn’t the first to use it. And if it did open today, the janitors haven’t been doing a good job emptying these paper towels.
Did I mention the stalls?! They are complete with the green handle for liquid or solid waste:
I am not an infant!
But, similar to the extremely short bubblers in the business school, these toilets are a foot off the ground! I almost expect to see one of those rings around it so children don’t fall in. I’m over six feet, dammit!
I remember, as a child, visiting historical sites from the 1800s. At these old houses, railings were at my father’s knees, people had to duck to get through doors, and, as the tour guide reminded us, Abe Lincoln was considered a giant at six foot three.
The construction workers and plumbers must have been under the impression that they were building a historical replica of a bathroom for such a house – not for a state-of-the-art green building.
Makes me sick.
halo-ed?
These three buggers were spotted at the Chanticleer.
what appears to be a frog
Spotted in the Park stairwell.
so low
Why is this bubbler (or water fountain, depending on where you’re from – a conversation in semantics I won’t get in to now) so low? Seriously – check it out in the new business building behind the coffee stand. It’s a foot off the ground!
On 01.25.10, In Events, By Riley
Well, it’s syllabus day once again for the last time ever. The rain has caused each classroom I stepped into thus far today to be filled with mugginess. Only the North Face jackets and Uggs reassured me that it was, in fact the beginning of second semester.
And per first day of class tradition, I took a photo-booth picture of myself donning a backpack. My mother always took pictures of me and my neighbors whom I walked to school with years ago, so I figure since she’s not around here, I’d take the picture myself.
Happy Learning, Humans!
On 11.27.09, In Pics & Toons, By Riley
It’s been a beautiful November; no snow, fine weather, and plenty of facial hair. Just before Thanksgiving break, I ran into a slew of friends sitting outside, well, outside Friends*. Beautiful day, and everyone was wearing jeans. A dozen of us all in denim. We noticed this, we looked around, nearly everyone else was wearing jeans, too. It was a jeans day. We sat there for about ten minutes shooting the shit, and watched hordes of students walking around. There was an occasional khaki and sweatpants, but for the most part – jeans. They prevail, the ultimate pant.
Which got me to thinking… Some things just win. If there’s a category for it, there’s a winner for it. For pants, jeans. For drinks, beer. Burgers, Whoppers. There are things that go without saying, and jeans are one of them. If you’re putting pants on, you’re putting jeans on – they’re essentially interchangeable.
all jeaned up
And this beautiful November day last week brought me to that realization. Sunny, clear, crisp and cool; perfect jeans weather.
* Just a thing about Friends – I know a lot of the buildings around campus are named after benefactors. Park named after Roy H. Park, Williams after Williams and Hill after some Coach Hill. But was there a “John Friends” or is it supposed to be the “everyman” type of building?
Perhaps this is a story for another post.
On 11.16.09, In Rants, By Riley
“Group hopes to pass Good Samaritan policy at college,” but really, the group just wants to get blackout drunk, pass out outside their Circle Apartment in a puddle of vomit, have a cop find them, and not get in trouble for acting like an idiot.
According to the Ithacan article, “the policy would grant amnesty (pardon, let them be idiots) to all people involved in the situation: the person who called Public Safety, and the person in need of medical attention.”
I suppose this is a good thing, to relieve students of getting in trouble when their holding the hair back of a student crouched over a toilet screaming “I think I’m dying, I’m never going to drink again! EVARRR!” in between spews of vomit. Just because you won’t get in trouble, doesn’t mean it’s okay to drink a whole bottle of rum.
amnesty international
thumbs up to this policy
Not that I advocate drinking to the point that you black out, but some of my fondest college memories come from watching friends who probably should have gotten medical attention, but we neglected to, and a certain friend would scream about “the staple in his fucking ear” from a 300 costume on Halloween, or when I had to tackle him because mid-vomit he almost confused my computer for the trash can.
The Medical Amnesty Protocol has been in effect at Cornell since 2006. Authorities “practice the policy so students are not afraid to ask for help,” and it “aims to increase the likelihood of students calling for medical assistance in an alcohol-related emergency.” According to the Ithacan article from November 12th, “the amount of calls to Cornell’s public safety office doubled while the amount of alcohol consumed remained the same compared to before and after the policy was passed.” The policy doesn’t make it permissible to drink yourself to death.
Students, drunkards, and idiots, I urge you to oppose the Good Samaritan Bill: It is for weaklings. Drink up, vomit in your trash can, and drink a glass of water before going to bed. Alcohol Poisoning isn’t that bad, you just pass out for a long time so your organs can focus on getting all the alcohol out of your body, it’s the closest you’ll get to time traveling.
I jest, of course, if you have a friend in need, go ahead and call the authorities, but I do not believe the Good Samaritan policy should be viewed as an excuse to drink in excess of excess.
On 11.09.09, In Findings, By Riley
We’re not Ivy League, our 1960’s academic buildings look like they’re straight out of Anchorman, and dozens of our students live in a glorified trailer. But at least e-mails full of sexual conduct between two staff people haven’t leaked to the whole campus, like it did at Cornell. Check it. The e-mail exchanges leaked to the whole campus.
With the exception of that guy that works on the maintenance staff and the woman from the dining hall who can be seen smooching by Chapel Pond when their breaks coincide, there is not much inter-faculty/staff relations. (Peter Johanns/ April Johanns is a different story – I’ve seen the name change in the e-mails to Park students, but I’ve never seen you in real life.)
loves the tickle
On 10.28.09, In Events, By Riley
The Ithaca College Men’s Cross Country Team had a record crowd yesterday, as tickets were made available for the Annual Cortaca Jug game. The distribution of the tickets took place between 4pm and 10pm in the Hill Center Lobby. As many eager students waited in line to obtain their pass to inebriated fanship, the members of the cross country team performed their daily core and flexibility exercises in front of the gymnasium. The last time students saw the team run was when some girl was doing the walk of shame from the Circles as the Alumni Run, which loops around the rape trail – er Flora Brown Drive – and the trails behind Terraces, took off.
Senior cross country runner Scott Walker claims that “he’s never seen so many people,” to watch cross country practice, no less.
Fed Jimenez was among those in line as the team was preparing for their Tuesday long-run: “I was by uh, Conservatory Circle, in line for my ticket, and I saw all these mufqers in short shorts and tank tops doing push-ups, sit-ups, leg swings. Pssh, I didn’t care about seeing that. I just wanted my ticket. Chump!”
Ticket distribution continues today outside the Ben Light Gymnasium from 4 til 10. The cross-country team will be performing drills from 4:00 til 4:15 in front of the Hill Center. In case of rain, catch them doing their exercises inside the gym.
On 10.26.09, In Rants, By Riley
The Gannett Center. Ever heard of it? That’s because it’s what 99% of students call “the Library,” and I’m sick of all this confusion with “what floor am I on?”
Libraries serve as meccas of information, hubs of learning on campus. The library is a place where random groups in class often meet to do projects, but how can any work be done if there is a huge dilemma with meeting up in the first place.
“Where are you? I’m on the second floor.”
“The second floor or the first floor?”
“The second floor. Well the main floor.”
“So, the first floor…”
“I’m on the floor marked 2, the one you come in when you enter the library, with all the computers, and the desks – the main floor!”
elevator signage
In the elevator, this red sign is the only thing helping us out. Next to the “2″ button, the sign reads, “Library 1st floor.” Thanks.
Library First Floor, Gannett Second Floor
This is the Main Floor.
Library Second, Gannett Third
Next floor up.
Library Third, Gannett Fourth
Floor after that.
shaft
And the fifth floor, so deserted, quiet and overlooked that it doesn’t even get a sign. All it gets is this original-issue “Quiet Study Area” sign.
So where are we? When in the Ithaca College Library, keep in mind, you are in a building much greater than just that – you are in the Gannett Center; home of the Handwerker Gallery, the Art History Department, the Anthropology Department, and, of course, the library.
Thanks to Brian Ivory for the phone pics, and the shared angst.
On 10.19.09, In Food & Drink, By Fed
I hate smoothies. To me, they don’t taste good. I’m an ice cream guy. But I love making smoothies. My routine at the Freshen’s Smoothie hut at the Campus Center never budged, until today. I’ve been mastering the art (because it is an art, indeed) of making smoothies for four years. From Maui Mango’s to Jamaican Jammers, my smoothies have touched
the lives of many people from all parts of the world throughout the little openings of their busy schedules in the week.
As I was pouring a Strawberry Sunrise into a 16 oz. cup, it flowed out of the blender like a heavenly fruity river of righteousness, smooth enough to consider it a waterfall, during sunrise, but with strawberries. I was taken aback four years ago …
… where a younger, dumber, sniffling from a cold, foul-mouthed, and far less serious freshman version of myself, was pouring the same Sunrise into the same cup. It wasn’t a river of righteousness. It was a messy, clumpy mistake.
It was my first day on the job.
My first week on a college campus.
My first encounter with work study.
I came into work sniffling from a little cold, thinking I was the greatest thing since slice bread because I didn’t get thrown into the Dining Hall like most freshmen did for work study. I’m going to be making some smoothies, or some “smooth ass smoothies” as my best friend would say, working at Binghamton University’s version of the Freshen’s Smoothie hut at the same time.
I remember dropping everything. Thinking raspberries were blueberries, strawberries were raspberries, pineapples were mangos, and mangos were peaches, it was all confusing to me.
“I’m not a fruit guy. I hate fruits and vegetables and good healthy stuff like that,” is what I thought to myself at first.
“Now I got to make fruity drinks and shakes for people?”
So I had no choice but to treat this situation as another obstacle in life; an objective. It was ugly at first, dropping everything, spilling coffee, getting screamed at by co-workers and supervisors, but it sure was a lot of fun, because it is how I met a lot of people. So the only things I cared about were perfecting the smoothie at hand, and meeting new people.
This has been my formula for four years. I have learned a lot about myself and the world, and have been on many life adventures through the initial friends that I have met on those early, clumpy smoothie-making days. Through time and many life lessons, the smoothies got smoother and smoother…
… Until right now, as I pour a Strawberry Sunrise into a 16 oz. cup, with it flowing out of the blender like a heavenly fruity river of righteousness, smooth enough to consider it a waterfall, during sunrise, but with strawberries.
This is my Ode to the Smoothie. You have been the backbone of many life lessons. Now I pour you with the uttermost smoothness a man can offer.