If Only Life Were So Symple

I would like to open by saying that I like Alfred University, the faculty, the staff, the students. I'm very happy here. The village of Alfred reminds me of the County, this small little enclave of academia in the middle of the woods makes me happy.

That being said, if I had a nickel for every night I was kept up thinking very seriously about walking down to Residence Life or Dining Services and taking a dump on their porch, I would be able to buy a yacht so big that there is a god damned yacht in the pool. A yacht so big that it's gravitational pull in conjunction with the water displaced actually fucks up the tides of whatever ocean it is in. A yacht so unimaginably massive that geographers have to sit down and have a serious god damned discussion about the definition of a continent. A yacht so monstrously big, your mom could actually ride on it. Then, with the spare nickels in my Piggy Bank Death Star, hire SpaceX to divert their engineering talent to firing that Yacht to Saturn. There it would remain in orbit for my three year "Yachtin' 'round Saturn Festive Celabratory Extravaganzery Party". Why? Why do I think so often about defecating on their porch? Because, Fuck Those Guys.

Seriously, they are like one Whore of Babylon
away from being smoted to all fuck.

Now I'm not writing about dining services in this post, because I enjoyed my tuna sandwich today at lunch and as of this moment I am still stacked to be on the 77 meal plan next year. They have been spared this day. No, for this week, as it was this time last year, I have been enslaved by Residence Life. What does that mean? They got me jacked into Symplicity. It's like being jacked into the Matrix, if the Matrix replaced the dehumanizing corporate structure that Neo finds himself in during the intro with a 234-tentacled Japanese rape monster.

Mr. Wizard, get me the hell out of here.

Last year, we got our group together of six people a few weeks in advance like the responsible god damned students that we are. We did everything the damned system told us to, exchanged pass codes, had a little room sign up party at our alloted time, had a previously researched room lined up. The day came, we entered in the system and it had the nerve to look us straight in the eye and tell us no. So we literally lived in the Residential Life office for a week, it took a whole god damned week to figure out why the system had a vendetta against us. Meanwhile all the good rooms were filling up. Finally we got our stuff in and let out a sigh of relief that lasted until the summer when we got our confirmation emails that informed us that the system had placed us all in the wrong room, with the wrong roommate in the wrong god damned building, just as it was designed to do. They finally got their shit together and put us all with our right roommates in the wrong room in the wrong building.

So you can imagine how excited I am to be entering this season once again. Once again I have gotten my room together well in advance and yesterday awaited my 7:30 slot, the best of our group.At two hours left I noticed something funny, my countdown clock said one day and an hour left until two hours from now. I pulled out the nearest speedometer and made sure my computer and I were going the same fucking velocity, well relativity could not account for this bullshit. So after panicking, we finally located the aptly named "fuck you guys" loophole in the Resonomicon (location un-fucking-known) and found out that it's not your groups best time, but the average of all your groups credits class standings best time. Did you hear that? It was the drip drop of my brain melting out my ears.

Then the room we picked in advance had filled out. No problem, there are two left, we'll pick one of those. We have four people and they are four person apartments, nothing can go wrong here, 4 = 4, that much I believe a computer can figure out. So we select to change the room that is now occupied. We want to switch from Thor Floor 3 to Thor Floor 1, Thor Floor 1 is empty, we switch to it, the computer informs us that we can't Thor Floor 3 is full. Well we want to go to Floor 1, you can't, Floor 3 is full. Finally that glitch faded when I deleted all knowledge of our previous selection. Then it informed us that our 4 roommates did not meet the occupancy requirements of our 4 person apartment.

Well we've played your game, so we can finally agree with the others now that you are the world's worst web interface. We weren't sure before. Symplicity? Don't you think you should suffer for the harm you've done to the human race? Don't you think the world's worst web interface ought to be punished for the most effective deforming of reality? Death to sYmplicitY!

Obscure Jude Law reference ftw.