Saving Private Ryan

Tonight we were all hanging out and talking about complete and utter nonsense. Ryan told us that he had to go make a call and that he would be back in a few minutes. Five minutes passed. No Ryan. Fifteen minutes passed. Still no Ryan. A half hour passed. No Ryan.
So Katie and I left and went on a search for him. A few minutes into our excursion, we came across someone who told us that he was going to the cemetery.
A few minutes later, from a lack of sleep and our natural silliness, the story turned into Ryan becoming a cat, and running across campus with the extremely long black and white stray that has been hanging out around our dorms. Then a few minutes after that, the story expanded into Ryan becoming a cat and dating the black and white cat.
Therefore, the nastiest thing I saw all day was the mental image I came across when I was told the previous information.
It's been almost an hour.
We still don't know where Ryan is...

Pimps and Pianos

So there wasn't anything really disgusting today, but I do have a story that is disturbing.

When we initially went into the Music and Art building and found out we were to play a piano for ten minutes in our bathing suits, it wasn't much of a big deal for me (mostly because I only had to wear my pimp hat). But now as I look back on it, we were all sitting in a building with half naked people. Mostly girls. So I suppose that for the two guys it wasn't a problem, but for the girls? We're sitting there in our bathing suits playing a piano. I don't know, maybe some of them are used to that sort of thing? But I'm definitely not. I'm also not used to being a pimp either.

Just thought I'd add that in case anyone was wondering. No, I don't plan on using any of you for a profit.

Squirrels

In lieu of a disgusting story, I've got an entertaining one to share. I suppose it could be considered unsanitary, so it does fall into the category in an abstract way...

Today as my friend and I were leaving the cafeteria building (I still don't know all the names yet) we saw a squirrel (big shocker). Anyway, this squirrel was not quite like the rest. It ran around in circles before plunging into a garbage can.

It was evident that it did not enjoy the experience, as suddenly it made a reappearance, stumbling as it attempted to escape the wrath of the garbage can (scary place, right?)

My friend and I just burst out laughing at the stupidity of the squirrel.

I would also like to say that no squirrels were harmed in the writing of this post.

A Mysterious Lump

In order to keep myself from walking into people or objects, I look at the ground when I walk. (If I'm not, prepare to see someone who walks like Captain Jack Sparrow from the Pirates of the Caribbean movies.) On my way to the morning's workshop, I saw a huge pile of ants crowding around a wriggling lump of I-don't-know-what. Upon farther inspection, the wriggling lump was unidentifiable because the entire object was covered in ants. I hate bugs, so I found this disgusting. Going even farther into the topic, my imagination went wild and thought of the possibilities of what the lump could have been. The most likely would be a fallen piece of bread, but the reason this came to me as disgusting was I thought "Maybe it was a dead squirrel!" It wouldn't surprise me as there are so many squirrels are on campus, but the thought alone made me shudder. Even worse, one of my friends suggested "It could have been a human hand for all we know!" That had just topped the list.

Loveliest Food Combination

Today at dinner, my friends were poking a little fun at me for putting ketchup on top of things like eggs and macaroni and cheese. That's perfectly normal, right? And it's just a coincidence that both of those foods are yellow... Three of them eat ice cream with forks though, so it's not like I'm the only oddball at the table.
Anyway, my roomie and I both happened to get some vanilla pudding, and, because it's slightly yellow, they asked me if I would put ketchup in it.
I didn't, but my roomie was eventually convinced to try it. We ended up mixing blue jello, pepper, and ketchup into her pudding. It looked, as one person phrased it, like baby vomit.
She ate it, and then chugged two glasses of Mountain Dew to get the taste out of her mouth. I'm typing this as she's lying down trying to get her stomach to settle.
It was disgusting, but really funny at the same time.
-Rachael

The Small Made Large

Last Monday we found a baby rabbit dead on our lawn. Two babies, in fact, laying broken-necked in the grass. We blamed the neighborhood cats. Hid the babies in plastic bags inside the plastic garbage can.

A few days later, we noticed that the bags containing the carcasses had moved. They'd budged inside the garbage cans, as if the rabbits had come alive. We looked closely. The bags writhed, alive with pale grub-like worms. Maggots, I mouthed. Maggots. We must be grateful, we said to each other, to these cleaners, these busy morticians. Still, as I lugged the maggoty garbage cans down to the curb this morning, it was an effort not to vomit.

Am I afraid of what I do not understand? Here are more images of the small made large, the invisible visible. Do we feel better now, looking at their buggy eyes, their poky, cartoonish teeth?

What is it about maggots? Medical specialists use them to clean, to sanitize. So why don't I want them to touch my hand? Or worse, the soft skin on my arm? Perhaps such squeamishness is related to evolutionary instinct; for, after all, dead things, we are told, carry diseases. But I prefer to think the instinct comes from our tendency to think symbolically. To see the outside as part of what's inside. We don't want to touch dead things because they're, well, dead. And we don't want to get too close to that.

Chicken Skin

Y'know, I like chicken. Normally. My mom tends to fry/grill it up in a pan with a little bit of olive oil and then she adds garlic and salt and pepper and some other spices and then she puts a lid on it and steams it, and that shit is delicious. Flavorful, tender, all-white meat. One of my favorite dishes. And I like chicken nuggets and chicken tenders and chicken fingers and chicken strips and all that, I mean, who doesn't? I would still order the Happy Meal if I wouldn't get funny looks at Burger King (Is BK the Kid's Meal?), but you couple that with the fact that you only get about four bites of chicken and a couple of fries and the fact that they're trying to discontinue the toys that come with the meal, well, it kinda sends the whole operation to hell.

Regardless, I like chicken. A lot. Old bay wings, those are great.

I was disappointed today, then, when I tried eating the chicken in the cafeteria. I know, it's cafeteria food, so it's not really fair to judge it. It's like pointing to a garbage dump and saying, "Wow, that's really disgusting." It might be disgusting, but it comes with the territory and that's that. But I ate a little bit of my chicken today and wasn't happy with what was on my plate.

I ate with a fork and a knife because I was sitting with the professors and I wanted to act all professor-like, so I used ten-dollar words like "presumptuous," "impertinent," and "derelict." I carved up the piece of chicken a little bit because, well, that's how you eat it when you're using a fork and a knife. I got about half way through the piece and got annoyed because it was bland and there wasn't much meat on the bone. I just kept picking at it and picking at it, and then I moved on to something else. It might have been chicken noodle soup (told you I love chicken).

I turned back to my pile of half-carved chicken, which was covered in a bit of the skin. It kinda just made a heap on my plate. It wasn't very appetizing. Some crumpled bone and bits of meat, but mostly just folded-over pieces of skin. It wasn't gag-inducing gross, not by a long shot, but I looked at it and said to myself, "Self, you probably don't want to eat that."

It's a shame. A good chicken is hard to find. Flannery O'Conner said that. If she didn't before, she has now. If it's on the Internet, it must be true.