What’s Next? No Beer Pong? College Becomes More Lame
Tufts College bans a little something something if your roomie is around
Dorm rooms doubling as steamy love huts have Tufts University throwing cold water on sex on campus – at least when horny students let it all hang out in front of red-faced roommates.
“You may not engage in sexual activity while your roommate is present in the room,” tuts Tufts’ 2009-10 guest policy, newly revised in response to student gripes about rambunctious roomies and their raunchy romps.
Tufts spokeswoman Kim Thurler told the Herald the 8,500-student school has fielded roughly a dozen complaints from chagrined scholars “who expressed concerns that they were experiencing uncomfortable situations” with their roommates’ sex-tracurricular activities.
“We really didn’t have anything concrete in place for (them) to set clear boundaries,” she said.
While the rules lay out no consequences for making whoopie within eyeshot of others, Thurler hopes the policy will “empower” students to “bring that issue up” with their randy roomie.
This story has been niggling at my brain, or what passes for one, since I read it. I couldn’t put my finger on why it annoyed me so much. I knew it couldn’t just be the putrid stench of pantywaist emanating from the story – adults, needing someone to hold their hand through *any* sort of confrontation — though that was a major part of it, as was the use of the word “empowered” which I hate with a passion. I finally realized what it was; it reminds me of the tree squatters at Berkeley. In case you don’t remember the legendary Berkeley Tree Squatters , here’s a reminder:
Dudes, grow up. Learn how to deal with people. And save the rest of us from ever having to deal with the pitiful products of your constant whining. You just know it was the unfortunate-looking, protest-y girls who complained. Probably mentioning something about how it “promotes the objectification of women” which they likely just learned in their Womyns Studies class. (Unless it’s the objectification of Conservative women; that would be A-OK then)
When I was in college, which was a painfully long time ago, we didn’t bother with that pansy arse protest and endless griping stuff. We were far too busy binge drinking and partaking of various hallucinogens. Granted, I went to the Uber-liberal Grinnell College. A place where Freshman Orientation consisted of the R.As (resident advisers for those smart enough to skip college and go straight to work) purchasing kegs and the PROFESSORS coming over to the dorm lounges with pot and acid. My dorm, by the way, was the host of the annual Fest of Frottage.
The 3rd week or so of the first semester was marked by The Alice in Wonderland festival. Which consisted of hippie wannabe (slightly more tolerable and usually somewhat better smelling than actual hippies) students lounging around the quad, doing tie dye, playing with string (!!??) and swallowing mushroom after mushroom all within a heady vomit tinged ambience. Various professors were interspersed throughout, as ever. My psychology professor, in fact, was there towards the waning hours before dawn when clothing became optional.
I got an A in Psychology.
But I digress. THAT is what you are supposed to do in College. Along with various and sundry pub crawls, at least one visit to the student health clinic for painful burning and/or itching, attempted professor seductions for grades and an approximately month long stint of poseur-ism wherein you believe that you are either John Galt or Sylvia Plath, depending on the syllabus of your requisite English Lit class…
Not the kids these days (Get Off My Lawn). What’s next? Banning beer pong because some are better at it than you are? Or because it’s not “vegan” enough nor “inclusive” enough? Join the fun, kids — join the non-angry and non-bitter kids on campus who will be liver-screeching drunk prior to every “big game”. If they even make it to the game; I suspect most will be passed out in a field somewhere likely sans clothing. Or that may just be me? Ah, good times, good times.
Embrace my old friends, lust and sloth, especially. Really, what would be the point of college if lust and sloth were eschewed? What fun is binge drinking without sloppy nookie and the ability to lay about slacking the following day?
Anyway, free advice for you college students: Stop with the whining and protesting. Enough with the Save the Trees crap and endless petitions for things that you should be able to figure out on your own without some bureaucratic “rules”. Pick up a beer bong and chill. There will be time enough for ranting and raving in your 30s and 40s. By then, you just might discover something with actual meaning about which to whine. Perhaps after you learn what FICA is. Until then, stay out of trees and the Nookie Nanny (precursor to Czar, I fear) business and go into the bars instead. To build up your delicate sensibilities and all, go into smoking allowed pubs, preferably.
For you ladies especially, who I am certain were the ones complaining — I’m totally picturing Rosie O’Donnell/ Janeane Garofalo types all ticked off because they aren’t getting any, and their roommates are, while they are instead sitting in their rooms scrawling out angry screeds to at least try to score with the “Protest set”. And probably even fail there –Take off the Birkenstocks, put on a bra and maybe you won’t have to be so jellie then. You don’t want to end up like THIS, do you?