Screws Fall Out All the Time. The World’s an Imperfect Place

Today has turned out to be a pretty good day. Not only is it my dad’s birthday (happy b-day, Pops!), but it’s also Worldwide Pinhole Photography Day, which I’ve mentioned before. Fitting, since dear old dad’s a photographer. Also today I got to eat a delightful “campfire” donut from Krispy Kreme, watch The Breakfast Club, and read some Persuasion.  There’s also rumblings of a severe thunderstorm rolling into the city later tonight. I couldn’t be happier.

What strikes me as odd, though, is our Greek life on campus. Usually I don’t put much thought towards it one way or the other, but this weekend it’s piqued my interest.  While walking to work yesterday, I had to take a short-cut to avoid the PIKE water war with some sorority.  Though it was only the upper-fifties, fire houses, garden hoses, and a shoddily constructed slip and slide were in use in our quad.  Then, last night, while at dinner at a low-budget pub, there appeared to be a Greek formal going on. The sorority looked like the Thurston Hall of sororities: short skirts, tight dresses, high heels. I just couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that out of all the locations in the city they could’ve chosen for a formal, they choose the pub. My mind, it is boggled.


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