O-Boy

I just finished three days of training to be an "orientation leader." Apparently this means that I'm equipped to inform first-years about rape, open them to diversity, prepare them to get mugged--"but at the same time, to really explore the South Side!--, and direct them towards every possible building on campus, including the one that houses Allan Bloom's eternally dancing corpse and the one where they give you free condoms.

I can't go into the training process because it's *confidential*, but it mostly involved lots of being talked at by student care people who reminded all of us of our mothers and watching a musical skit called "Don't Kiss the Girl"--lifted from the Little Mermaid song--about how we can't hook up with first-years until after orientation.

As for today (move-in day), though, despite all my registration duties, I'm staying as far from most first-years as I can, because they're just going to make me anxious and give me unwanted memories of my own move-in day.

Here in my apartment, however, it's beautiful-- at least I think it will be when the 3 months worth of grime and non-Victorian clutter is lifted and Lysol'd. I've already spent my first few days as Suzie Homemaker replacing light bulbs, dusting blinds and ceiling fans, and cleaning my first hardwood floor with some disenfectant named "Murray." This weekend I might even stain a dining room table.

My room is the smallest in the apartment (Alex says it was the maid's room), but my framed Calvin and Hobbes comic strip, the "Visitors" poster I made for AP US History, and the magazine cut-out of Zooey Deschanel all give my little cell a pleasant man-boy charm.

Finally, various Off-Off members got together last night to select scenes for our orientation show. We obtained an archived scene that a generation had written back in the 80's that included a very naive joke about not Tommy Lee, but Eddie Van Halen attending a college class.