- Joined
- May 20, 2014
I also think that he either has undiagnosed autism or a real problem with change in general. There was a blog entry he made about his college where he found out that his old dorm block was knocked down, and ranted on about how they were destroying memories and now he could never go back to how it was. Sounded like a slightly more coherent/less idiosyncratic Chris, tbh.I don't know if he's ever mentioned having a girlfriend after he left college (he's talked about some "lady friends" a few times, but whether they're heartsweets or just gal-pals I have no idea), but it could be that in his mind college=girlfriend and he thinks that's the place he has to be to score some china. Or it could be that he's exhausted all the possibilities at his regular haunts (church and wherever else it is he goes to in town every week) and knows that there will be a veritable smorgasbord of pussy at school. I do think he's under the impression that all college girls are sluts who go to school for no other reason than to have sex with everything that moves, so that probably has a lot to do with it too.
Or maybe he's just one of those sleazeballs who likes the idea of scoring with young girls in lieu of mature women his own age. Kind of OT but my friends have a foster daughter who's going to be heading off to college in a year or so and the idea of some middle-aged creeper perving on her makes me want to vomit with rage.
EDIT: found it!
However, I got another very nasty surprise last month in the mail--the ASU Alumni newsletter. It informed me that earlier this summer they tore down the Seminole Twin Towers. It seems the building was festooned with mold and filth and thus demed unsafe and uninhabitable. I was hurt. I spent three years there, considered it my second home--as did many generations of male students--and they tell me it's gone as an afterthought in a blurb in some cheaply-produced mass distribution? Perhaps I would have liked to have been on hand when they tore it down. Perhaps I would have liked to have been among the last crop of students to live there before it was condemned and imploded into rubble. But noooooooooooooo. Because of Boss Bonnie and that sycophantic pinhead Roger Lee, I can't even set foot on campus without being arrested.
And that's when I realized that things have changed so much that even if I went back to ASU tomorrow, free and clear, it would never be the ASU I remember. I'm turning 33 in two days. I'm balding, paunchy, weak, and sick. I'd have to compete with men ten years younger and a lot better looking for those hot random girls. I'd have to enroll in a couple of courses, find a part-time job to pay tuition and bills, figure out how to balance work, a courseload, and still put out a monthly comic. Plus now I'd have to find a new place to live, since my old room no longer existed. It's all ghosts and memories--the threadbare carpets, the dim lighting, the stench of drunks' urine and pot hanging in the halls, the barely-legal girls retching their guts out in the bathroom after downing two gallons of Hawaiian Punch and vokda in a sitting. The lounge computers with half their mouse balls missing. the carpet that sumped a ton of water during an especially bad storm when the lobby flooded and that never quite lost that fishy stench, the corner table where a thousand games of cards were played--gone. The convenience store that sold the great chicken strips, the big-screen TV where I watched cartoons every Saturday, the microwave that was so old it had a knob on it, and it was broken ,so you had to insert your student ID sideways into the little slit on the plastic stub where it fell off to turn it--gone. Ghosts. Dust and rubble.
And that's when I realized that things have changed so much that even if I went back to ASU tomorrow, free and clear, it would never be the ASU I remember. I'm turning 33 in two days. I'm balding, paunchy, weak, and sick. I'd have to compete with men ten years younger and a lot better looking for those hot random girls. I'd have to enroll in a couple of courses, find a part-time job to pay tuition and bills, figure out how to balance work, a courseload, and still put out a monthly comic. Plus now I'd have to find a new place to live, since my old room no longer existed. It's all ghosts and memories--the threadbare carpets, the dim lighting, the stench of drunks' urine and pot hanging in the halls, the barely-legal girls retching their guts out in the bathroom after downing two gallons of Hawaiian Punch and vokda in a sitting. The lounge computers with half their mouse balls missing. the carpet that sumped a ton of water during an especially bad storm when the lobby flooded and that never quite lost that fishy stench, the corner table where a thousand games of cards were played--gone. The convenience store that sold the great chicken strips, the big-screen TV where I watched cartoons every Saturday, the microwave that was so old it had a knob on it, and it was broken ,so you had to insert your student ID sideways into the little slit on the plastic stub where it fell off to turn it--gone. Ghosts. Dust and rubble.
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