New on the blogroll...

Passive Aggressive Notes joins the ranks of the proud blogs that I troll daily. Hilarity ensues when people find courage behind passive aggressive notes. I had one roommate in college who was a huge fan of them actually. Back in my early blogging days, I'd take pictures of them and post them on my blog. Then she found out about the blog and her little weekly feature on it (because our entire dorm floor was addicted to it) and left me another sticky note about that. We didn't like each other much. I think I will write another blog post about my experiences with roommates. But today I reminisce about another dorm memory spurred by my new blogroll friend.



I lived on a co-ed floor during my first semester at college. For reasons I still struggle with, boys are inherently gross. I had a brother and was aware of this fact but it became especially obvious when we had a floor meeting to discuss....and yes, I am serious...

...why we should not poop in the shower.

Apparently there was a recurring issue in the boys' shower area with someone taking dookies. Not only was someone shitting in the shower, but it had become such an issue that it necessitated a meeting with the RAs, the resident director, and a campus nurse. Though I don't know what good a nurse from the campus health center really was, since any time you ever went to the health center, you were diagnosed with mono or an STD. What's that? Your limb has been severed? We'd better take a pap smear...

The humor of sitting through a meeting discussing the negative impact of shower pooping to a room full of 18-30 year olds (yeah, we had a 30-year-old guy living on our floor... I bet he was the Pooper) was outshone only by the cleaning process. You knew the Pooper had struck again because the boys' bathroom would be evacuated and the campus biohazard team (I don't know if there really was a biohazard team, or if it was just the dorm janitors in biohazard suits, but whatever) would take on the bathroom in full force. The bathroom was then quarantined for the rest of the day. What did the boys do? I don't know. I used the girls' bathroom where we females knew not to take a doodie in the shower.

After that fun-filled semester of shower pooping, I moved on to the sorority house. That was much better, because if anyone took a dooker in the shower, I couldn't get mad. Because they were like, my sisters and stuff.