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Greetings, high school graduates. As of now, you are in all likelihood eagerly awaiting your enrollment into the academy of prestige and sophistication that you’ve come to know as college. Stanford, here I come! right? Wrong. Your overexposure to cathode rays and those pre-SAT bong rips have pretty much precluded any possibility you ever had for actually gaining a real higher education. If Ivy League turns out to be a letdown (like there was any doubt), and the ambiance at [Insert County Name Here] Community College just isn’t cultured enough for your Douglas-County-ass palette, then your only alternative, besides “Professional Green Chain Specialist,” is state college. If you happen to find yourself in a melting pot of bleached-blond frat guys driving Honda Civics with options more expensive than the car itself, pseudo-high-class Division 1A high school athletes and more chain-smoking sorority girls than you can shake a “Go Beavers” football pennant at, then welcome. You are at Oregon State University.
You’re most likely here because:
1) You liked to build model airplanes as a kid and take apart your father’s favorite electric razor, so you’ve decided to embark upon a career as an engineer. You will quickly discover that being an engineering major is a hell of a lot more difficult than being an actual engineer. This is made painfully clear by the fact that you’re taking college algebra during your sophomore year, but your car’s seat belt doesn’t work because you’re too stupid to tie a goddamn knot in it.
2) You decided to come to OSU to experience some of that “diversity” they’re always plugging in the brochures. But it turns out that particular type of diversity is only found in the latest version of Adobe Photoshop and a few pictures of somebody’s black cousin who attends the UO.
3) You thought that at least here you won’t be forced to smoke marijuana and protest like I hear they do at the University of Oregon. However, after three weeks of listening to your overzealous philosophy professor, you will be ready to fight the good fight against corporate America and smoke a bowl. And once you’re here, you will find plenty of things to hate about it.
University Housing and Dining Services
University Housing isn’t actually a major part of the evil, but they’re apt to turn a blind eye when you’ve been sexually abused by the administration. The kind folks at the UHDS are the people that take care of your student food accounts and identification cards. They’re also the people who charge you just a penny less than your eternal soul for an ID card replacement. My advice to you: sew that friggin’ card to your forehead and proudly boast that silly-ass half-stoned grin that you’ll be showing the schlemiels at the cafeteria for the next three to four years. The sly use of the word “Dining” in UHDS is a prime example of OSU’s subliminal manipulation. “Dining” usually suggests a sumptuous meal, served with a refreshing beverage (not “drink”... beverage) and a side of good-natured ambiance that fills even the darkest and gloomiest of crevasses with a kind of wholesome virginal incandescence. Yet on most days of the week I’d settle for anything other than that fucking applesauce stuffing they’re constantly touting like it scored a 1600 on its SATs. I also refuse to believe that the assortment of sorority girls’ fractured recollections of the previous night’s unbridled beer-fueled cockfest, are radiating anything even comparable to a virginal incandescence. (I’d like to apologize to two of the girls from the Delta Delta Delta sorority house. In my defense, I think every girl coming back from the walk of shame needs to be embarrassed — but I will admit that throwing my scrambled eggs at you and shouting “J’accuse!” probably was a bit over the line.) Nevertheless, no matter how unappealing and downright offensive the food may be, there’s always someone scarfing it down like he has his execution to attend right afterwards.
The Dorms
First off, don’t expect to have any “special privileges” just because you’re paying twice as much as you would for an off-campus apartment with four times the space and without a person who, after the first month, becomes more like a cellmate than a roommate. Don’t be too surprised when you find yourself smuggling silverware up from the cafeteria downstairs. The dorms are a good first start to your college experience, but don’t become one of those people who feel like it’s all one big family. They are asking for you to beat them like an alcoholic stepfather. Another thing about the dorm life: for the most part you’ll meet some pretty cool people, but remember to establish your dominance the first day. It’s like prison: shank someone or get shanked; find a bitch or you’ll be one. If you’re one of the many Americans who enjoy getting to bed early so they can get a full night’s sleep, then file that dream under “Shit That Will Never Happen,” along with banging that hot redhead in Chemistry and the rock star fantasy you’ve had since you first mulled over the sight of 18-year-old groupies swarming around Steven Tyler of Aerosmith like rednecks at a NASCAR rally. But you can’t really get irate at these people for staying up until 4 a.m., because when your computer goes on the fritz, you’ll know whom to go to. Sure, you’ll get the customary charge of five bucks or so, but after he’s done with it, not only is your e-mail working again, but the back of your computer has enough fans, wires and black-market instruments to make Chang, your neighbor double-majoring in math and electrical engineering, close up shop and start on a theology degree.
Girls
It’s time to face it: OSU girls are a lot different than the floozies you dealt with in high school. First, you have to believe that since these girls attend college, they are sophisticated and intellectually complex — and you also have to believe that if you eat enough wild mushrooms, you really can see God, and that he’s playing foosball with David Schwimmer. OK, so maybe some of these girls aren’t that sophisticated, and when it comes to brains — well, I know a guy whom we lovingly call Acid Zeb who could probably beat these girls three out of five games at Candyland.
I’d have to say that the best thing about the first year experience at OSU is your “First Month Lay.” Everyone who has been to college knows what I’m talking about. Even if you were the weirdo in high school who ate his own earwax and snuck into the girls locker room to steal the dirty socks, I can guarantee that before your first month at OSU is over, even you will get some tang. Granted, it’s probably not going to be the best you’ve ever had, and when it comes to sanitation, let’s just say that I’m still pissing out shit that makes the tip of a heroin syringe found in a Queens sewer seem like the clean room at Intel. Yet as good as it sounds, it will never, ever happen again. So say goodbye to your penis, because from now on you’ll probably get as much use out of it as Ken Simonton’s communications degree.
The Beavs
Yes, it’s finally come up: OSU’s crowning achievement: the “Beavs.” If you now find yourself asking questions like “What about Linus Pauling, the only person to ever win two unshared Nobel Prizes? Didn’t he graduate from OSU?” Well, Linus sure was a smart cookie, but can he throw a touchdown pass? The main issue with the Beavs is that you’re either with them or against them; people here don’t take kindly to ambiguity. And if you try to refer to them by their full name instead of the “Beavs,” people will think you’re talking about a new porno flick or the small aquatic rodents that inhabit most of North America. Be prepared for when the football fever pandemic hits OSU. Don’t be astonished when even some of your more innocuous and dull professors turn into football simians, flinging their feces in undying support for the home team.
A typical question such as, “Uh, excuse me Dr. Watson, how would you go about separating the variables of this second order differential equation?” might yield a response like, “Well, you can separate them like ‘THE BEAVS ARE GONNA SEPARATE JOEY HARRRINGTON’S HEAD FROM HIS FREAKIN’ BODY!!! AND THEN GO SECOND ORDER ALL OVER HIS ASS!!! GO BEAVS!!!!’”
I believe that my time has already expired. I’m late for my appointment to get my hair frosted. And my girlfriend at Omega Chi needs her pack of lights before the store closes. I just hope that I have enough gas left in the Civic.
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