Bored games

All rise for the Honorable Chairman.

Zzzzzz... What? Huh? Oh, sorry... I must have dozed off. I wonder why...

Oh, yeah, that's why: This weekend sucked. No Tailgate, no football game, no student activities fee increase... what did you people do with your lives?

Frankly, I'm bored. Really, painfully bored. Then again that's not really news. I mean, it is in my name. And you call yourself a Duke student/parent/employee/professor/cat? You should be ashamed.

As I sit here in my Few single writing this, I am forced to ponder what the cause of this unshakeable ennui might be. Right now, everything is going right for the Chairman: hot significant other, off-the-charts grades, a surefire I-banking offer from Merrill... what more could I possibly want?

A change.

That's right, the Chairman needs a change. And sadly, it doesn't only involve writing in the third person. I think, as sad as it sounds, I've finally figured Duke out.

Gone are those blissful days in Bell Tower, looking out over the huddled masses begging me to throw them food and flat screen TVs. Back then, each passing day held new promise, new surprises. The Marketplace was my temple and Lilly my church. Baldwin was Mount Everest, and the tunnels were cramped, smelly hallways lined with dirt and insects. I felt so alive, and yet, I knew it couldn't last.

Hey! Don't go stealing my line! This is a one-time thing, got it? Good. Now, where were we?

Ah, yes, my weekend. Well, I supposed it started on Friday night, although a case could be made for Thursday or even Wednesday. Friday, I found myself on The Fratio (I think it's Latin for, "terrible place to have a party"). Long story short, some dude came in and shut the whole party down. Must have been Tallman Trask III himself, cause I don't know anyone else with that much power. Well, except maybe Jordan Giordano (if you consider "power" the ability to win DSG elections by Photoshopping his name into Coke ads).

Anyway, the point is I was forced to vacate the premises and pour out all the contents of my stomach into the bushes. Well, I guess I wasn't technically "forced" to do that last part, but I might as well have been. Damn police state.

Luckily, the hootenanny ended just in time for me to catch the pre-screening of Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, for which I had a ticket because, according to my passport, my name is "Chamindra Goonewardene" (Thanks again, black market-you're the gift that keeps on giving).

Now I know some of you "loved" the movie because it was so "cute" and Michael Cera is "hot" and it was "free." Personally, I hated it. Those of you who saw it, just answer me one question: Why did the black guy have to die first?

After sitting through two hours I wish I could have back, I got a good night's sleep so I would be ready to go out again on Saturday.

What a waste. I should've gone with my gut and watched Knight Rider reruns on Hulu.

Saturday night I had a semiformal, which to me means "shirt and shoes required." Apparently, some people have shirts with buttons on the front (damn kids) and they had the audacity to tell me I had to go change. "Screw this," I said to my hott date, "Let's go someplace cool."

So we did. We went to Cookout. Take that, hipsters.

As amazing as my banana pudding shake was, though, it wasn't enough to get me off the slow boat to boredville.

So here I sit, pondering, disappointed that I have so little left to discover at Duke. I just wish, for once, the routine would change and I could convince myself that Duke had much more left in store for me.

Wait, there's a Panda Express on the Plaza?

Maybe I haven't figured it out after all.

Meeting adjourned.

THE CHAIRMAN doesn't mind that his BBQ pork has 1570 milligrams of sodium. I mean, it has at least 1571 milligrams of taste.