Wednesday, December 15, 2010
BYU Hipsters? Yeah, they are all of this (except for that part where I talked about the cigarettes!) but worse: they want to seem like all they care about is Jack Kerouac and scarves and greasy bangs, but they've been on missions and go to church and take religion classes and are thus just pretending to not care about their lives and God and finding their eternal companions.
*Outside of The Bubble
**Anyone who looks/acts like this over the age of twenty-nine is pretty freaking sad. Anyone looking/acting like this under the age of twenty...well they still have the chance to grow out of it.
***Yes, sometimes certain girls are attracted to certain neck stubble.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Stop doodling and/or daydreaming. Listen. Do you hear that faint hissing that seems to be emitting pungent fumes of accuracy? Wait for the professor to ask another question. Now do you hear and feel that sweet correctness caressing the back of your neck? These full credit-deserving vibes of truth are coming from the Answer Whisper-er, who knows the right answer to every single question, even when the professor asks something weird and/or unclear and everyone is just sitting there in silence. However, the AW will never ever say this correct, potentially air-clearing and tension-relieving response any louder than a whisper--although he or she will occasionally raise his or her voice to the level of a mutter if someone is doing something loud, like coughing or digging loudly through a backpack or popping balloons.
While it may be flattering that he or she has chosen you to be the sole keeper of the secret of his or her brilliance, we are all experiencing real pain as we sit here, avoiding the stare of the professor who now knows that we didn't do the reading. We're college students; we feel enough sadness when we have to pay our utilities bills or when we see that the Skweez text is for Hot Dog King. Relieve us of this preventable misery and just say the answer, and please make sure to use your outside voice.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
And then the pretty, well-dressed b-word next to you curtly shakes her head "no" before passing the treat plate to you because she is a Party Pooper. Now what do you do? Taking the treat automatically contrasts you to her: on one hand, we have a girl who knows when to say when. A girl who possesses self-restraint. On the other, we have a girl with a weakness for Halloween cookies. A girl whose whole shopping list consists of those (delicious) circus animal cookies and Cheez-Its.
You sit there with the tray, frantically weighing the pros and cons, knowing that no one actually cares whether or not you take a cookie, but also knowing that this could be a turning point for you--the moment when you become a healthy person! One of those yoga-types, who never drinks soda and thinks dessert means granola...
But obviously you take a cookie; you really are hungry. But thanks to the Party Pooper, what was once a glimmering tender mercy now tastes an awful lot like shame.
Monday, September 20, 2010
However, Cecil occasionally likes to stick it to us and schedules upper-level classes in a totally random building. Finance majors get lost in the labyrinth of the JFSB, Physics majors walk all the way over to the Tanner, one time I had a lit class in the Talmage...it's all very uncomfortable.
One can always spot one of these Fish Out of Water because they will have constant looks of bewilderment and unbelonging. They will have grit-teeth-clenched-jaw, Inspector Gadget-when-he's-reading-a-telegram-eyes, and nervous-Andy-Samberg-eyebrows as thoughts like these race through their brains: "Maybe I should just drop this class and delay graduation a semester," "Where did all these members of the opposite sex come from?", and "Where are the %&*#ing bathrooms?" The FOW can also be identified if everyone he or she passes gives him or her the ole stink eye because they have all sniffed out the pariah whose brain is emitting fumes that reek of alternative education.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
The BYU dorms are a very special place. Other than being the grounds for various creameries, (which hold the crown jewels of BYU: graham canyon ice cream in half-gallon form) as well as the palatial, new (ish) Cannon Center, (where you can get unlimited bowls of Marshmallow Mateys at any time of the business day) the dorms also serve one minor function as the holding pen for freshmen.
Most guys, upon returning from their 24 month sabbatical, forego the little cougar kittens cooped up in Helaman, Heritage and Wyview, instead choosing somewhere a little more mature for their feeding grounds. Like Liberty Square.
But not the Dorm Raider. This guy finds something irresistible about the freshness of the produce at the Dorms. Maybe it's that he can still smell the glory of high school on them, or that he can't stand a girl that actually has a major, something undeniably draws him to those youthful corners of campus.
This guy ranges from 21 to a hair under 30, and he can always be found in the common areas of the dorms, setting himself apart from the freshman "King of Helaman Halls" by using his mission skills to actually talk to the girls, rather than just trying to look awesome in front of them while playing around with their "buddies." You'll also be able to discern the DR by the fact that he'll be hiding his MPB with some sort of hobby-mirroring headpiece (i.e. baseball hat, snowboarding beanie, cowboy hat, barely-legal-semi-pedophilic-girl-hunting hat...) More likely though, you'll find him around the various dining facilities, trying to bat his eyelashes enough to earn him some of that Dining Plus those poor freshman girls don't know what to do with.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
If the professor references Obama, there will literally be at least one Noise of Approval. This NOA can be a positive-sounding grunt, a thoughtful "hmm!", or an "mmm-hmmm" one might hear in one of those Tyler Perry movies.
If the professor references the war in Iraq, or any conservative politician, even if he or she has just the slightest bit of disapproval in his or her tone, the LML will laugh so freaking loudly that it will probably suck a year off of your life like that machine in The Princess Bride does.
There seems to be a desperation at BYU to prove one's non-BYU-ness. To prove his or her uniqueness, the LML chooses to shout his or her non-Republican opinions from the peak of Y Mountain, hoping to send Provo into an outrage. Big deal if you're a Democrat. You're still a white, twentysomething Mormon like the rest of us.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
This student's religious zeal for the syllabus is so intense that they print it out the second it goes on blackboard, read it, memorize it, and tuck it into bed with them before finally getting it to the first day of class.
Then, because they view the syllabus as greater than or equal to the Constitution of the United States of America, they will not stand to see one tiny infraction in their scripture.
Professor: "Ok, so we're going to be doing two papers in this class--"
The Syllabi Jihad: "I object! The schedule states that the second paper is due on Wednesday November the 31st, a date which doesn't exist on any Gregorian calendar isn't that right professor?"
Professor: "Yes well I was getting to that, my TA made a mistake, Wednesday is actually the 30th which is when the paper will be--"
The Syllabi Jihad: "Overruled! And where is this alleged 'final study guide' that is promised in section C para. 1? According to the last time I checked blackboard, approximately 12 minutes ago, there is no such thing. Can you elaborate?"
Professor: "But the final's four months away, I didn't think you'd need it--"
The Syllabi Jihad: "Aha! So you admit you weren't thinking? Perhaps there was some substance abuse that impaired your thought process? I don't need to remind the ladies and gentlemen of the jury about the incriminating photos of said professor seen with caffeine-laced Coke in the Cougareat?"
[Professor breaks into uncontrollable sobbing]
The Syllabi Jihad: "I have no further questions."
At least until your next class when it starts all over again.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
This guy deals with money for school and therefore gets to dress like he's starring in Casino Royale Marriott edition. In a perfectly filled out suit he looks like an icon for the American dream (with liberty and sexy for all) and you want to give him the Goldneye. But just like Batman, Superman, Spiderman and all the greats, the TSH cannot always be this pinnacle of business perfection. There comes a time when he has to assume his Clark Kent role and take off the suit. And with it go his super powers.
Watching the TSH walk through those windowed halls is the perfect topping for your chicken pesto panini (RIP market place cafe), but as he's gliding down the stairs, glowing with business-savvy-manliness, you become very aware of how unworthy you are to be in his presence. You start wishing you had at least turned on the lights before you threw on your BYU sweats this morning, because upon closer examination they have remnants of a frosty on them, and might be on backwards.
Not all the money majors can be the TSH though, and the way they these unfortunate others fill out their suits, (or the lack thereof) remind one of the times in Middle School when your "friend" would eat a starburst and then fold back up the wrapper and offer it to you--just the frame without any of the sugar. But even these empty starbursts are better than nothing, because every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Once spotted, they will respond to any of the following: "Mormon," "BYU," "Utah," or "sooo beautiful"... but they will probably give you a "la shukran" or "nien danke" in return.
They love having decisions made for them like what classes to take, when and where to eat, and even when and how to go to the bathroom ("Do I need my wad?"). They're also known to put anything and everything in a pita (eggs, cucumbers, yogurt, headsets, water bottles...)
Don't ask The JCer what time it is--they won't know. Instead, ask how many hours it's been since lunch, or how many hours until dinner. This makes much more sense to them.
The JCer also has quite a flavor for ancient architecture and won't get an apartment without a cistern. Or a mikveh.
But the real distinguishing feature of The JCer is that they won't be able to stop talking about the amazing people they met and the life-changing experiences they had during the last four months. And when they are telling you all about them, make sure to pay attention or they might snap their fingers in your face.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Saturday, April 3, 2010
After the Waldo has caught your eye, BYU’s campus shrinks from 40,000 (?) to that of a small-town high school, in that you can’t go anywhere without seeing the Waldo. Suddenly you are on the same cross-campus-walk-schedule as they are, and you can spot them faster than any red and white striped turtleneck (no matter how cute Waldo's little red beanie is). And when you’re using Photo Booth to make sure you don’t have keyboard marks all over your face after your supra-laptop nap, the Waldo will somehow pop into the back of your frame like big foot in camping pictures.
If the Waldo is of the hot variety, you’re always sure to spot him/her at your most attractive moments, i.e. with Taco Bell dripping down your chin, or just after you’ve taken a nasty slip on the ice that makes everyone around you look at you with what they think is sympathy, but comes across as ridicule.
If by chance you end up interacting with the Waldo for realzies, they are almost never the same person you’d envisioned them to be (i.e. they actually have a voice, and if they are of the hot variety they’re not that interested in being the father/mother of your unborn children). This personality swap usually leaves you feeling like the heroine from a 1960’s drama where someone yells “it’s like I don’t even know you anymore!”
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
*Okay, what I'm going for here is that the conquering skills of a big, sexy warrior look like the unadulterated fear of a 14-year-old girl next to the profile-annihilating abilities of the FBT. Sometimes my metaphors are pretty reaching.
Friday, March 26, 2010
The last thing you want to do is spend one more second agonizing over question 67 and whether you should have chosen "all of the above excepting b, d, and f" or "none of the above excepting a, c, and e". But, your professor wants you to learn from your errors by catching them yourself (which means he/she really wants to go home and watch CMT too). So you're stuck. But grading is easier than actually test-taking right? This should be painless. Plus, you're sure you got 67 right.
Cue the Point Mongerer
This person has not let one point slip through their writer's bump-ridden fingers since the PKU test tak as a newborn and is not going to start now. As soon as the professor gets to one of those "choose the best answer" questions the PMer has his/her teeth gnashed and is willing to rip away every lost point from the professor. They're like a vulture working on day-old roadkill, but more disgusting.
The PMer will also come under the facade of showing how righteous they are by asking questions like "Do I still get it right if I didn't dot the i with a perfect circle?" or "Would Heavenly Father give me the points if my pencil went out of the scantron circle?"
By the time the PMer has sucked the soul out of your professor and everyone else involved, you've missed My Big Redneck Wedding. And you got 67 wrong.
*By the Spirit-ing. Of course.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
At FHE they'll announce that they go to BYU and they'll complain about Physical Science and American Heritage to further the facade, but what we don't know is that they're not living in BYU housing so that they can live close enough to class that the walk there doesn't have them waltzing into the MARB, panting hard enough to have just furrowed a small field. They live among us, making the hour long drive, the one that took our pioneer ancestors months (uneducated guess) to do by hand-carts, to go to their classes, all so they can get the BYU experience [cough, marriage], without actually going to real-BYU.
But there are some tell-tale signs to differentiate these "students" from your real peers:
Never have a major
Never seem to have had professors you've ever heard of
Unusual griping and moaning about high gas prices because they use so much of it on their commute they might as well be pouring it over their cereal
Generally skittish when conversations about ACT scores and high school GPAs come up
A light in their eyes that wasn't ripped from their souls by the demons that are generals credits at real-BYU.
Monday, March 15, 2010
As he plays, the PM is seemingly shielded against all the winces and eyebrows raised in his general direction, probably because he is basking in the admiring glow of the female stranger sitting beside him with her Teriyaki Stix rice bowl, swaying and singing the words to the "Viva la Vida/Love Story" masterpiece he's pounding out so passionately. Even though they think they're alone in their Chris Martin/Taylor Swift love connection, all of us lunching in the Terrace were forced to be a part of this moment as soon as he sat down on that bench.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
At the games you'll find that when the truebluecoug isn't putting his heart and soul into every crowd-involvement that the Jumbo Tron throws at him, he's talking about the athletes like they're his best friends and/or spouses, i.e.: "Well you know when Max passes like that it's because he had Cheerios for breakfast". You'll also be able spot the truebluecoug because not only is he the one at the games with the painted face and the stupid hat, but he's the one with the newborn baby that has the painted face and the stupid hat.
Newborn or not, you know you'll find the truebluecoug doing his part to help his team by heckling, which usually includes:
Citing scripture to inform the opposing team* why they will be destroyed
Giving the ref the finger**
Softcore cursing from the 50's like fiddlesticks, dagnabbit and H-E-double hockey sticks.
Sitting in close proximity to a truebluecoug at any game is almost enough to make you feel like one of those curmudgeon-season-ticket-holders sitting on their cushioned seat they bought after they got their hip replacement, yelling at the stupid kids to just sit down already.
**their CTR ring finger
Friday, March 12, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Where on the other floors you need at least a furrowed brow to make it look like you're completing some brilliant assignment (when in reality you're facebook chatting), on the fifth floor there are no facades, but it is a floor where the only way you will be hushed is in a cute and flirty manner. On floors one through four you'll probably get a few crusty eyes for ruffling a bag of sun chips (garden salsa variety), but the fifth floor is the land of the socialites, home of the procrastinators; a place where the streets are paved with sideways smiles and mutual acquaintances.
Let it also be known that the fifth floor is a black tie affair which means that your lucky study sweats are not permitted. Always dress to impress [translation: you're going to have to drop those ironclad dress and grooming standards--Ugg boots make any skirt length look practical no matter how cold it is outside]. But most importantly, this is a floor of regulars who have devoted their study habits to memorizing who comes and goes on this floor, and lamenting to each other how it's "sooo not right that In-N-Out is in Utah now..." If you're going to "study" here expect to be on Academic Probation by the end of the semester. But hey, you'll probably get a few Color Me Mine dates out of it.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
But then there's the 3rd floor.
Thanks to the ironclad security of dainty Art History majors in navy blue pants, we must all pass through the Golden Gate of the 3rd floor to reach any quadrant of the library. Which means you must go through the gauntlet of the No Shh zone. Walking through this, newly extended, area of frivolity with a backpack full of unfinished homework is like walking in front of the Great and Spacious Building. Hearing the laughter and seeing the gleaming smiles of these wanton men and women who have majors that necessitate "group projects" and "team presentations" makes you want to throw your Norton Anthology out the window and join this world of social academia. Inevitably seeing multiple people from past wards/classes/Area 51, you hold tightly to your BYU Testing Center pencil like it is the Iron Rod, and close your eyes to make it through to the stairs. If you don't do your homework now you'll be up all night doing it in the one corner of your apartment that gets decent wireless but zero heat. With the end in sight you quicken your pace, but wait, did you just hear your name? Well you better go say hello.
4 hours later you realize you haven't even turned on your computer.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
-taking pictures of themselves and/or all of their friends on Photo Booth on their shiny, brand new Macbook
-feverishly copying their roommate's Book of Mormon notes minutes before the midterm
-trying desperately to think of the perfect iTunes library name for the shared network...maybe this was just me. The best ones I've ever either been told about or seen for myself were "I'm easy" (followed by a phone number) and "iPood".
-fake-studying while actually trying to catch the eye of the King of Helaman Halls, who only studies in Periodicals--except for those few occasions when he can be spotted in the No Shh Zone
DISCLAIMER: As a freshman, thanks to the Periodicals' social scene, I made a lot of my friends...so freshmen, just accept that you have these cultural obligations and give in to them. Also take an upperclassman out to a Dining Plus-paid lunch.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
No, these students are seasoned BYUers and are either married or are so caught up in the rapture of the celibate life of study that they've left the sexually-charged-chaste-tension that is the rest of BYU and have entered Grad school. You'll usually catch these students with materials that no other student has access to (i.e. a Bible printed on the original Gutenberg press, or the lost 116 pages of the Book of Mormon).
Studying down here requires a furrowed brow, writer’s bump, and most importantly: the lack of a libido.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Every ward has one: the girl who is hopelessly devoted to the Cool Guyzz. And okay, who among us hasn't crushed on an EQP at least once in our lives? The difference is that this girl has absolutely no shame. None whatsoever. Refer to this sample conversation:
EQG: So I saw on your Facebook that you like "The Office". I do too. Can I come up to Budge Hall and watch with you and your friends?
EQP: Yes? [thinking] What is this girl's name...
EQG: Great! It's a date! And I already have your number from the ward directory so I will text you about it, and, just in case, I'll write on your wall. Please respond on my wall so people know I interact with boys.
[ten minutes later]
EQG [text from her to him]: I was reading your wall-to-wall with [other boy in ward], and I saw that you guys are going to the dollar theater tonight. I'll be there.
Now, this is an exaggeration*, and the rest of us always stare in disgust at her grossly forward ways at ward prayer...but deep down we burn with envy because at least she's talking to them.
*no it's not