Issue 26

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Ne w s p a p e r o f Wa l l a Wa l l a U n i v e r s i t y

Collegian The

Volume 102 | Issue 26

Creamy Peanut Noodles pg. 6

“WHOMST?” - Kyra GreyEyes, Creative Director for The Collegian, every single week

May 31, 2018

E d i t o r ’s N o t e | C o l l e g i a n W i s d o m | S e n a t e | H i s t o r y | R e l i g i o n | M e d i a + Te c h | S c i e n c e | F e a t u r e | W e e k i n F o r e c a s t | F o o d | C u l t u r e | O u t d o o r s | S u b m i s s i o n s | P o l l

VILLAGE HOUSING CONTRACT VIOLATIONS: A CASE STUDY

Last Things First college place, wa | walla walla university

| May 2018 Issue 26

Don’t Try to Cheer Me Up By Meghann Heinrich Sometimes I get in a mood. My mother used to call it a “funk.” My sister just calls it, “Meghann would you get a grip!?” Between you and me, it really is just downright crankiness brought on by any number of stimuli: hunger, tummy troubles, stress, embarrassment, blue skies and sunshine, grey skies and rain, people in love, bird poop on windshields, misquoted lines from “Princess Diaries,” cats who don’t love me and so on. My father used to do his best to cajole me out my funk, which is the surest way to plunge me deeper into the depths of grouchiness. He’d say, “Darlin’ are you mad?” which was the equivalent of pouring a gallon of gas on a pile of firecrackers. As I seethed in silence he’d go on; “Because, it seems

Hey Thanks! “Hey thanks powers that be for only making 7 required community credits this quarter, Tuesdays just got a little brighter.”

like something might be bothering you.” Now he’d basically dumped a pound of gunpowder over the top of the pile, and as I glared at him with all the misguided hatred I had at life as a product of the mysterious funk, my father would laugh, lighting the match. And I would explode. Well, this evening as I sit down to write what promises to be another mediocre attempt at humor geared toward a collegiate audience, I am feeling the all-too-familiar irritation of a funk creeping in—and it’s not pretty. So, instead of conjuring up one of my many mildly amusing childhood memories or failed attempts at adulthood, I reserve the next few hundred words as dedicated rant space, and there is precious little you can do to stop me. First of all, I am a decent driver.

I’ve never been pulled over, I’ve never put a dent in the car and I’ve never even hit any wildlife (except snakes—I purposefully swerve to end their miserable lives). So when I am driving along, hands at 10:00 and 2:00, and on an off-day make one miniscule mistake that causes you a minor inconvenience because I was stopped in a left-hand turn lane for a full two seconds after the arrow turned green, I do not think it is appropriate, nor good form for you, sir, in your whippy zippy little Subaru to toot-toot your little horn at me. I do not like you. Next, I honestly cannot comprehend why, after months of freezing to my core, I am now subjected to sweltering heat day and night. I do my best to increase the airflow in my room, but that means opening my window

Verbatim

at night, which is a gamble at best. Why? Oh, I’m glad you asked. Because in a nutshell, there are some strange people who walk by my window in the wee hours of the morning. Just a few nights ago I was tossing in the heat of my smothering room when I heard footsteps approach. It could’ve been classified as merely a nuisance until the footsteps stopped directly outside my window, and I heard a man growl at me. It wasn’t a very realistic growl, but it was enough to make me play dead until I heard the trespasser depart. That is where I draw the line, sir. I don’t care for you one little bit. I could go on. I have strong opinions on a number of controversial subjects, including but not limited to: the amount of time it takes to make food, the rules of pedestrian right-of-

way (spoiler: I’m in favor, power to the people), unprotected left-hand turn lanes, when and where it is appropriate for your mother to comment on your acne (spoiler: it’s never) and farty noises—real or arti-fart-ial—I hate them all. Okay, I’m feeling better now. I think I was just hungry, but my little sammy from Jimmy John’s seems to be subduing the funk. I can just start to make out the Carpenters singing “Top of the World” in my head, so things are looking up here in my little corner of the world. I hope you go make someone smile today, but if not, then make your grumpy count.

The Artist oh you draw the comics? I thought they got them off the internet!

“Churchill wrote his speeches in poetic verse. What is it? Pentalic hexameter?” - Professor Terry Gottschall “I can only aspire to be that crazy mathematician in my declining years, spitting out gibberish on my deathbed.” - Professor Tim Tiffin

“Hey thanks maple syrup for being a socially acceptable way to smother food in liquid sugar.”

“I’m going to poop because that’s what teachers do.” - Teacher Jacob Patterson “I like corruption though.”

“Hey thanks procrastination for making the last 2 weeks of the quarter more work than the first 8 combined.”

- Professor Monty Buell, talking about political corruption with the railroads in the PNW

Email your faculty verbatim or thank yous to meghann.heinrich@wallawalla.edu to be featured!

My name is right there.

© 2018 KYRA GREYEYES


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