Ind e-Pen # XLVI. The Registered Text Offender

The Ind e-Pen
+++vol+1+++BT+46+++

Introduction
==================
Wow. I sure did pissed off a lot of butt. Everyone else, by which I mean Stan, Mr. Miguel, Jess, Tess (hi, nice to meet you. I write silly e-mails), Stefania, and T-Bone either agreed with me, agreed with someone similar to me, didn’t not disagree with me, or liked bananas. Usually all four.

The only other thing that’s more polarizing is religion, buutttt…… I won’t get into that unless I have a good reason (get a wild hair).

Scheduled Tasks
———————
A lot about college sucks. The top three are:

1) Parking Nazii
2) Registration
3) Buying Books

I rail against the Nazii regularly, and book buying is just generally understood to whomp freely, but the problem now facing us is that of registration.
It’s bad enough that it was such a wailing suckfest to register the first time, but to have it whomp just as hard each following time is just not cool.

I don’t recall the first time I registered (other than it was all in one day and I had no idea what classes I needed, what was available, or where to go), but my schedule had four intro classes, two I’d taken twice before in high school, and a weight training class that ended up being the lowest grade I had that semester (grumble, grumble, grumble…).

Then came time to register for the next semester.
Some four weeks prior I had moved out of my previous room after waking up to find my loveable roommate Joe Lovato (505 753 8275) wailing away on his rather unappealing girlfriend.

— and when I say wailing, I don’t mean beating her (I wish!), I mean making naughty-no-no noises.

The point is that I soon moved to my own room. I completely forgot about the incident until registration day.

It was my first registration day as a college student, so I woke up at 7 in the morning to register online. Ha! How Naive I was!

It seems that when I switched rooms, the housing office had made all of my room and board due immediately– thus making my account truant and ineligible to register. I didn’t realize this until several hours later, however.
The real problem came later when one of my crucial classes was full, forcing me to redesign my schedule on the spot.

The next semester, knowing I was no longer going to live on campus, I attempted to sign up for a two-day a week schedule, only to be stiff-armed into a four-day a week schedule that included a Sunday class… ugh.

Then came time to register for my semester in the quasi-functional university that is IUP.
I had meticulously gone through their guidebook (which apparently is updated everytime the Supreme Court Chief Justice retires) and found some awesome classes to take.
I e-mailed the lady in charge of making my transition easier. She told me to go suck it.
Throughout what turned out to be a three-month period (with an average of one fortnight between my e-mails and her response, but if you think That’s bad, you should have seen how our phone conversations went! Uncomfortable at best).
It was so bad that the morning of my last final for the Fall semester, I STILL had no classes for Spring.
Thankfully, an unmanly personal plea to about ten teachers got me into the bare minimum of four classes. Phew!

Then came the next registration.
I’ll save you the details of this OTHER time I had to deal with an advisor through e-mail. Just know that it is entirely possible to have your SCHOOL E-MAIL ACCOUNT considered spam by your own advisor.

… yeah, I know…

Anyway, wish me luck this Monday. Registration. She’s a bitch, eh?

My Life of Crime (likely a fictional story 😉
———————-
Speaking of buying books. There I was at Barnes and Noble: reading Jon Stewart’s wonderful little America (the book): A Citizen’s Guide to Democracy Inaction when my pants started vibrating–
–then, in a possibly unrelated note, my phone rang.
I answered and proceeded to be completely titilated by what the man on the other end said: “$135 and 10 for folding.”

— I’d tell you what he meant, but I like to leave some things to the imagination —

Anyway, I was so excited that I walked right out of the store and started singing to myself (“I’m Walking on Sunshiiiine. Whoa-oh-oh”).
It wasn’t until I plotzed myself in my car that I realized I had waltzed out with the book.
Now, a normal law-abiding citizen would take it back in and apologize, but I have a record. They’d Never Believe Me!
So I’ve decided to resort to a life of crime. It’s really the only alternative the system has left me.
People don’t give us ex-arrestees second chances you know…

Actually, the only reason I kept the book was to read it. I’ll give it back when I finish.

I’ll wipe off the fingerprints first, of course.

A Small Quiz:
Damn, my answers were awesome, but I think it’d be somewhat of a conflict of interest if I gave myself anything. Therefore, I have decided to award the free Pix Capacitor to my relatively new fan from Kansas: Tess. Whoo!
Speaking of which, I now retroactively withdraw every bad thing I have ever said about Kansas. I was really thinking about Missouri. Screw them. They’re Missourable people.

This Week:
1: Have you ever looked at your school’s guidebook? Ours says that we offer Latin, but we haven’t had a Latin teacher since Reagan was in office.
2: Do you have any cool registration horror stories?
3: Have you ever shoplifted anything cool?