Formerly Felines for Anarchistic Green Democracies

A Bostonian at the University of Michigan.

There will also be discussion of the New England Patriots, Miami Dolphins, and Michigan Wolverines. Probably in that order.

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Thursday, January 26, 2006  

A quick anecdote with a comparative lesson.

I got back to my dorm today around 11pm after a lecture and post-lecture conversation with a friend of mine who is almost as insane as I am about evolutionary biology. My first thought, when I got onto my hall, was, "Huh, sure smells different up here tonight."

I entered the hall via the center stairwell, which is on the east side of my hall, along with the women's bathroom. My room is down the far west side of the hall, along with the men's bathroom.

As I started walking west, getting closer to my room and, incidentally, the men's bathroom, the smell got stronger. It wasn't necessarily a bad smell. In fact, it was a pretty good smell. Kind of like a good cologne, permeating the entire hall. "Wow, I don't know what happened here tonight, but this is pretty sweet!" I'm thinking.

I get closer to my room. The smell has not plateaued out, and is in fact getting stronger and stronger. Exponentially so. When I get to my room, which is two doors down from the men's bathroom, the smell is so strong that you can almost feel particles of cologne scent going down your nasal passage. It's a good smell gone drastically, insanely, hugely wrong.

A group of my (male) hallmates are huddled around the door of the men's bathroom, eyeing it nervously and giggling. I can't even go into my room. I have to know.

"Guys. What the fuck?"

It comes to light that one of my hallmates has attempted "that milk thing, you know". After further inquiry, it transpires that "that milk thing" involves a gentleman of small stature attempting to drink an entire gallon of milk in the space of one hour.

One of the guys who lives on the hall perpendicular to ours comes around the corner, shirtless, aiming for the bathroom. My hallmates go silent, watching him.

He opens the door and takes a step inside.

"Holy shit!" he yells, leaping backwards out of the bathroom and letting the door slam shut. "That's vile! Can't fuckin' breathe in there!"

My hallmates sheepishly inform me that "that milk thing" had failed rather spectacularly, involving large quantities of milky vomit. It also becomes apparent that someone (no one will say who) somehow thought that the way to deal with this situation was to go into the bathroom and empty an entire can of Axe bodyspray into the vomit-inflicted area, thus rendering the men's bathroom on my floor completely unusable.

My RA (residential advisor, older student in charge of the hall) walks by with his girlfriend, heading for the stairwell. He sees me, coat on, backpack on, clearly just returning to the heavily scented hall.

"Hey, did you hear? Someone tried the milk thing!" He seems, by and large, to be cheerfully amused by the fact that his bathroom has been turned into a toxic wasteland. Chuckle chuckle.

Exeunt RA and ladyfriend.

Is this a boy thing?

Anyways, the point is, this is how I feel about Andy Marte. He's supposed to be this awesome thing that everyone wants to see, but expectations are so high, even if it seems like it's so awesome that nothing can go wrong... what if it does? If he doesn't pan out, and we've held onto him that strongly, it's an epic failure. If we trade him and he goes on to be great, well, someone else gets the glory and we always wonder what could have been, and why we did that.

But if we trade him and he doesn't live up to that huge, huge potential... well, the mess is on someone else's floor.

Sometimes, I feel really, really bad for the poor lady who cleans our hall.

3:46 AM

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