Fondue

I was introduced to fondue last week. And I was frightened.

In case you don’t know what fondue is, it’s basically a mini version of a meal. Little pots are heated up and everyone stands around dipping finger foods into them. Each “fonduer” is assigned skewers to lessen the risk of someone catching on fire, but upping the chances of someone losing an eye. People are randomly stabbing meats, shrimps and veggies from all different directions making it into an all-out fencing melee for the next bite. Don’t reach across the table. You won’t get your hand slapped for bad manners; you’ll get impaled in a ravenous fondue frenzy.

Fondue was all the craze in the 70s, so we went old school for one night, putting aside our McDonalds fries and picking up a little pitchfork. But during all the stabbing chaos, I still felt like we should be wearing sweaters and discussing a rousing game of polo. So, in short, fondue is the most sophisticated way to poke and dip food.

And if you didn’t know what fondue was, then that’s ok, because I didn’t have a clue what the hell they were talking about either. I even had to look up how to spell the ridiculous thing so I could describe how ridiculous it is.

Other than the spelling, my immaturity wouldn’t even allow me to get past the utter absurdity of the word: fondue. It sounds like someone gave a fancy word to something basic, like manure.
So to sum up the night, you had a bunch of guys giggling about the word itself, holding sharp objects and fighting for food around open flames. Brilliant.

Groundhog Day

Forget the Doppler 2000, we once again had a little furry creature come predict absolutely nothing. I know your instincts would tell you to whack him on the head with a rubber mallet when he emerged, but this time we waited until he sauntered out for the most useless holiday ... ever.

I couldn't possibly type anything funnier than this though. Go here, you'll laugh, I promise.

Professors

This is usually a little rant I do at the beginning of every semester for my mom and brother showing them just how excited I am about my boring courses and even more boring professors. But here it is for you. Nothing spectacular, just a few character descriptions.

First there is my health teacher. Nine months pregnant. She comes in and starts teaching us about exercise and the observant forty year old in the front row raises her hand and says, "I couldn't help but notice that you're really pregnant." Brilliant.
So the professor finally addressed it, letting us know that we would have 5 weeks off while she was on maternity leave, but would continue to teach until she had the baby. So we could be learning about abstinence and contraception when her water breaks.

Then there is my journalism history professor. He looks like Michael J. Fox somewhere between being himself and the teen wolf. Sometime in the transformation process, that's my prof. But because of his scruff and height, he has a Abe Lincoln quality about him that makes me wonder about his intimate knowledge of history. But overall his enthusiasm for it all makes me look up from my crossword more than usual.

My english professor looks like Sigourney Weaver. Not the shaved head alien fighter Sigourney, but the pre-Gatekeeper Sigourney from Ghostbusters.
She is your typical liberal English feminist that thinks that books should consume our lives as much as TV. And with one crappy show after another taking over, like the Newlyweds or Friends, I can see her point. But there's something about plodding through Hemingway that reminds me that I'd rather be doing anything else.
And she wants everything to be a discussion, like we're sipping frappichinos in the nearest dimly lit smokey lounge discussing literature. But that doesn't work out so well when you have a lecture hall of 250 people and a kid in the back yelling out random interpretations that relate everything to sex.

Then there is my journalism technology prof. A young guy trying to be everyone's friend and reading from little powerpoint slides.

And last and definitely least, my finance teacher. I did not realize that there was such a thing as a finance nazi, but I have recently come face to face with that beast. For someone that has Joy in her name, she is the least fun person I have ever met. Drop the condescending tone and just teach me intro. to finance so I can get my minor and go home.

Another exciting semester.