Dabney house is the place I call home this year. It is not, however, the place from which I call home -- for I have found it officially impossible to operate the landline phone in my room, and apparently, so did all the residents who lived here before me: I have 4,387 "new" messages, and while, yes, I am extremely popular, you gotta figure at least a third of those predate my arrival.
Of course, radio waves are afraid of entering the sacred house of Dabney, so I have to go outside to the Old Dorms quad to use my cell phone. It really hasn't been all that inconvenient, except for the occasional instances when I've had to say, "Mom, can you hold on for about 35 minutes? Dorm Sing just started." At least my mom got to hear her favorite Gnarls Barkley song while my roaming charges accumulated.
The point is, I take pride in my current abode and especially in its architecture. Designed according to the often-overlooked classical order known as Dormic, the building accommodates not only dozens of rooms for first-year students but also the residence life office. This means security is extra stiff, requiring multiple card swipes, retinal scans and a UJC interrogation -- and that's just to get into our laundry room.
You name it, we've got it here in Dabney -- just please don't name air conditioning, permanent shower stall dividers or really anything other than linoleum and cinderblock. But the sheer majesty of the place is overwhelming, and it explains why soon-to-depart Dean Ed Ayers recently said, "The one thing I will miss most about the University, other than 'Dooley Noted,' is walking through the halls of Dabney at night." Actually, he might have said the Lawn. I'll have to double check that. But I'm almost positive about the "Dooley Noted" reference.
I especially enjoy the company in Dabney, although a lot of slurs have been attached to my hall in particular. Outsiders refer to us as the "ferociously handsome 15" and "the unattainables." But we don't want to be recognized merely because of our amazing looks and sex appeal. That's only one, gigantic part of who we are. We are also kind, sharing individuals who just happen to be in ridiculous shape. We are not elitist -- we simply refuse to associate with those who are beneath us, such as Bonnycastle (I mean that both topographically speaking and in a moral sense).
Living as I do, without a roommate, has its benefits as well as several drawbacks. While I don't have to bicker in my room over petty issues like taking out the trash, I have unwittingly compensated by becoming extra aggressive in other social settings. I deliberately seek out arguments with classmates, professors and even my readers. But honestly, none of this is any of your damn business, so why don't you just shut up and keep reading.
Emmet has the mail room. Big freaking whoop, I say. I check my mail maybe once a month, and it's always a disappointment. Look, nobody likes letters anymore. I guarantee you if Thomas Jefferson were alive today, he'd be using Gmail exclusively. He'd also be washing all his leather stockings in, yep, that's right, Dabney.
Other than delighting in my living situation, I have spent some time recently testing Larry Sabato's Crystal Ball. The Ball was so accurate in forecasting the recent midterm elections that I thought I'd ask it some questions outside of the box.
Following my first question, I learned that I was going to fail an exam this week. This allowed me in good conscience to forego all studying and even skip the test itself. It was truly liberating to know I was destined for failure.
It turns out the Ball has a bit of an attitude problem. When I asked it if Britney Spears and Kevin Federline would ever get back together, the response was, "Are you serious? You actually care about those trashy celebs? Grow up, loser." Wanting to get to the bottom of this callous remark, I asked the Ball if it had experienced true love, only to receive the response, "You're about to experience a true beat-down if you don't start asking me decent questions." Next week, maybe.
Dan's column runs each Wednesday. He can be reached at dooley@cavalierdaily.com.
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