dating.

So... my roommate and I used to joke (before she got herself a boyfriend) about the question “Why don't boys want us?”

HERE IS THE ANSWER.

Check this out. It is absolutely brilliant. Curious about my own statistics, I decided to do a few additions of my own. Assuming that these calculations are roughly correct for females as well, and that I am approximately as attractive as the guy writing this, (Believe me, I used my most expert creeping skills to locate a picture of this individual, a one Tristan Miller who may have been employed by the German Research Center for Artificial Intelligence at some point in the year 1999, to judge for myself, but to no avail.) the percentage of boys/men (And there is a very distinct difference between the two, one about which I will not go into detail at this time.) in these categories who belong to the same religion as me (which, by my (very rough) calculations of 13 million divided by 6 billion) is approximately .2167 percent. If we multiply that by this guy's calculations for eligible companions, we get about 4057 guys. (Well, 4057.3, but I'm not taking .3 of a guy.) That's in developed countries, not even just the United States. Some of these eligible bachelors with whom I am scientifically compatible could live in France. Or Switzerland, for heaven's sake. One of them could be the man on that train to Bern that didn't wear deodorant.This is where I gave up on my additions. I’m not even going to try and calculate equations that represent how many of those are actually living within a radius of my very few networks, and how likely it is that I will even see them passing on the street, or even whether they have the stamina to ask random girls they see on the street on dates in the first place… but I'm sure it will wheedle down my total immensely. So pretty much... yeah. Dad, next time you ask me why I’m not going on dates, here is your answer.

dear wsc...

Well, as my collegiate education has been going quite well, I'd like to take this time to critique a few social injustices of our school. Namely, those that take place in a lovely building on campus that we will call the WSC, as it is not here to defend itself or give consent for me to use its real name. To begin, let me address the issues as we enter said WSC. I walk into this building at least once a day. Usually it is for the sole purpose of nourishment, as I am what some may call a starving college student, but sometimes it is to buy a t-shirt with the number of the most celebrated basketball player this season emblazoned across the front and back or to attend a class, but that is not the point. The point is... STOP THRUSTING PAPER IN MY FACE. Yes, I would love to hear about the upcoming hockey game or the newest a capella performance. But is it really necessary to throw various quarters of papers in my walkway? I have a pile of these lovely handouts in my room, ready for recycling. It's inescapable, though I have devised a few methods to evade the paper toss. The first is to avoid the area entirely. This may involve walking up the stairs, going around the building, then walking back down the stairs to the one side that no one ever seems to man (But after this, maybe they'll get the hint... Joy.) despite the swarm of them around the other doors. Or if that is not an option, I can always choose to occupy my hands with every electronic device I have on my person at that particular moment. If all else fails, do not make eye contact. Or if necessary, look incredibly angry. I find that the leather jacket helps immensely with this. The second injustice I would like to address is that of automated bathrooms, more specifically, automatic toilet paper. Is each person the same? Do we all need the same amount (5 squares) of incredibly thin single-ply toilet paper every time we use the restroom? I submit that we do not. I am perfectly capable of yanking the toilet paper out of the dispenser until I have the amount I want, thank you very much. Dear WSC, I know about events on campus. And I like getting my own toilet paper. Peace.