Random Thoughs from a Co-op
12-1-04
By: Ryan

As your semester comes to a screeching halt, and you are studying furiously for those final exams, which are inexplicably worth about a third of your grade, you might need a minute or two to relax and experience the mind-numbing journalism that I have to offer. The following is a mix of random thoughts, experiences, or opinions that are easy on the noodle.

I am a fairly active person; I played football and tennis in high school. I only was able to be on the tennis team because I knew the coach real well, but that’s beside the point. The point is that I am a fairly active person, emphasis on fairly. So at the beginning of my freshmen year in college, I was struggling to keep myself in shape, mostly because I don’t have anyone yelling at me anymore, telling me how pathetic and weak I am. So I create a routine where I’d run to the Student Activity Center, lift weights, and then run back. That way I’d do both cardio and blah blah blah. Aaaanyways, man this story sucks. I would run to the gym at my own slow pace about every other day, except for one day. I drove to the gym, started lifting weights, and then it began to downpour. I thought, well I’m going to become Mr. Fatty McFatfat if I don’t run some more. I take a peek into the treadmill room, where the population is about 30, all incredibly hot females. I think, ‘maybe this is a good thing’… I was wrong. All of the treadmills and bikes are taken except one. I walk over to it, looking totally suave and cool. I step onto the treadmill, and start jamming the up arrow. I get going on it, and start going at my own pace, which is just fast enough to necessitate the jogging motion. I jog for about a minute or two, and then look around to enjoy the view. Now, the interesting thing about these incredibly hot females is that they are all in perfect shape, thus they are running much faster than me on their treadmills. I’m usually not a competitive person, but I’d rather die than be shown up by a bunch of girls. While they were definitely running faster, I did not take into account that their strides were probably half as long as mine. So I get into competitive mode and start slamming on the up arrow some more. I keep picking it up until I’m going faster than any of those girls could ever dream of going. The end.

Oh wait, then there’s the part where my feet start getting heavy, and I’m slamming down on the machine with each stride, causing very loud noise and creating large jerks on the machine; jerks large enough to cause the emergency stop thingy to come out, therefore causing the treadmill to stop, unluckily for me… I didn’t. I ran almost straight through the panel that was in front of me, causing the entire treadmill to tip over to about a 30° angle, and then slam back to its original position. I look around to see if anyone was looking, and of course they were. I was hoping someone would be like “Oh yeah, that treadmill does that, it’s not your fault.” Nope, apparently it was MY fault. Everyone is facing in the same direction except me; I’m looking back at everyone on my stopped treadmill. Of course I let the awkward silence devour me whole for about 45 seconds before picking my stuff up and leaving. I have not run since. The end.

The Terrell Owens/Desperate Housewives Monday Night Football pregame skit was NOT RACIST! I refuse to comment further.

Of all the times to bite the inside of my cheek, I had to do it the day before Thanksgiving. I bit that stupid cut in my mouth about a billion times, almost canceling out the joy of gluttony.

I was at the movies the other day and there were some kids about ten years old in the hall, I felt frisky so I went up to them and said “Hey kids, I bet you can’t do this” and then I jumped and touched the top part of the door to the theatre. I bet they were really sad about that.

The Spongebob Squarepants Movie was the best thing I’ve seen all year. It reminds me of the days of yore when Ren and Stimpy were king and queen of the world.

The more I think about it, the more I regret co-oping in Birmingham. Not because of the hours, I can handle that. Not because of the work, it’s not that bad and some of the stuff is pretty fun. I regret it because not only am I a mechanical engineer, but I have agreed to leave Auburn every other semester for a couple of years. I have pretty much signed a contract to die alone. By being an Engineer, I have agreed not to have any females in any of my classes, and by co-oping I am leaving the swarm of hot chicks that inhabit the plains. But on the bright side, I never had a chance with one anyways.

Hope the studying is going well, but remember, while you are studying and hating your life, I am in Birmingham without a single concern about tomorrow.

Part Two


Ryan can be contacted at ryan@theauburner.com