down on the lower campus, little chitlins are wandering around. their little faces are filled with the embarrassment that only trying to pretend maturity while being followed around by parents can produce. they’ve got stuffed folders and empty wallets, but big happy grins. and i am looking at them to see where the cheese is hidden, because surely these little chitlins must be cheesy, yes? full of brie, i think, or maybe cheddar. not everyone can be french, after all. once upon a time, though, there was a prince here. but he graduated in the spring, i hear, and his father was a king without a country living on sufferance in england anyway. much like the suffragettes. well, honestly, nothing alike. but if you could imagine 80’s hair and leg warmers and striped ensembles with large plastic pink earrings, then the rockettes could be aliens with butt implants and probes of subliminal intelligence. i am curious about this prince mostly and less about the chitlins now. because royalty is not necessarily more interesting than the wandering little baa lambs below, but it is by definition more. (perhaps of cheese?) i wish i had met him. or seen him, wandering around with the expression only being followed by a king can produce.
July 8, 2004 by
king of cabbages
Categories: General
I don’t know about the prince, but I do know one thing that goes along with chitlins and their parents – fancy food in the dining hall! Remember how Puget Sound used to put out table cloths and flowers in glass vases whenever it was parents weekend? The same deal here. Except, instead of flowers, there is organic fruit, and fresh rasberries, and made to order sushi, and a super-delux salad bar. I luv these chitlins and their cheese faces. When they leave on Sunday, it’s back to corn fries and onion rings.
gasp! made to order sushi?! well, i know what i’m having for dinner along with my onion rings.
wait…will they still be doing that at 5? (pre-emptive) bastards!
p.s. they had organic salads last friday at lunch which were so overpriced i almost dropped one on my foot.
p.p.s. the prince went here for undergrad and the king came for the graduation stuff in may and the chronicle apparently did a piece on him (i can’t find it) but no one on campus knew he was here so they couldn’t take advantage of it and guy up here on my campus was pissed because if “USF wants to be an internationally recognized school, we need to be aware of what’s going on in the world!”
Michele, your Sushi front page pictures get better all the time. I think I’ve just fallen in love with the current one.
Mmmm. Raspberries. Raspberries are better than cheese AND princes.
that is a good question. I certainly hope they still have made-to-order sushi at 5! I’m starving. I skipped lunch because I needed to sleep (I was up all night talking to Erica and Aurea on the phone). I’ll be pissed if I missed the sushi in exchange for sleep.
does that mean you have fallen in love with ME, dianna? you can see that picture big in my recent post of pictures of my camping trip.
um, anyway, thank you. foot shuffle, rub toe in dirt, blush.
SUSHI!
Well, it’s a moot point anyway. I’m a fascist and you’re not; it would never work out.
despot. maybe though you should break up with jacob and date mé…
argh! it doesn’t work here! crap my page!
Ha! HA! Crap your page!
Why is your text so big now, anyway? It’s really huge. I demand smallness, and what I demand I get.
i think it depends on your browser. IE at work is small. but mozilla here at home is kind of big. shrug.
Actually, I’m using IE and it’s enormous. It wasn’t always that way, though. I thought maybe your page took steroids.
spinach pie.
is it smaller now?
Mmmm… spinach pie. No, it’s still pretty huge. I guess the effects of the spinach never really wear off.
change it in your browser then. with “view” “text size” “smallest” in the toolbar.
Smallest is too small, but smaller is small enough. Smally small smallity small.
I had a chance with a prince once. I met him in a Ft. Lauderdale club where we danced all night and did things we weren’t supposed to. He took me back to his family’s summer palace on one of the ritzier islands in Biscayne Bay, where the butler on duty at 4am served us orange juice in crystal while we admired the Monet in the dining room. He had a flight to catch, so I drove him to the airport in the morning. The reason I didn’t take advantage of my situation: he had a Yahoo email address. How can I have respect for a prince with a Yahoo address?
Maybe I’ll have a chance with another prince on Monday. Gene: brace yourself, or prepare your hotmail defensive strategy.
For three days I have read and reread this post…I still have no idea what it’s actually about.
well, but i enjoyed your tales of princes and email warfare. sooo…that’s square.
did you enjoy reading it for three days? because maybe that’s more important.
p.s. jack jack, don’t throw out your back, climbing up that bean stalk. crap my rhyme!