Monday, December 13, 2010

Chafe - Finding The Right Mod


One thing is for sure, the Aztecs did not construct the mods. If they did, I'd know where the hell I was going more often. The mods are a maze, plain and simple. BC (probably the Office of Residential Life (my nemesis)) is the mad scientist and we are the mice trying to find the piece of cheese. There is literally no rhyme or reason to the numerical order. What they don't know, is that we can somehow find our way flawlessly after consuming alcoholic beverages. When Thursday night rolls around, the mods move in slow motion and begin to make sense. When I'm dead sober, I could really use the help of a Tom-Tom (or mapquest for you old school peeps). When I ask you what mod you're in and you say 24B, that's the equivalent of telling me you're in the greater Boston area. The numbers are in no particular order, the A's and B's seem out of whack and the slight color variation is nothing more than a mind fuck. I mean dag flabbit BC, throw us a bone here. If it were up to me, I'd have Bill Romanowski come back with a sledge hammer/Ak-47 and tear down the mods. I'd then have the man who built Walsh (aka the Mecca) reconstruct the mods, making sure I don't need Christopher Columbus to get around. While I'm at it I'd throw in some pools and a whole bunch of vending machines strategically placed throughout the mods (vote for me for class president next year).

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