Pooping on campus can be something of an ordeal for the uninitiated, but follow these helpful hints, and you'll be on your way to mid-day gastro-intestinal relief in no time!
Step 1: Find the right building. Ideal buildings are new or have been recently renovated. It helps to think which departments get funding for those sorts of things. For me, that would mean going to the engineering/business/biological sciences buildings. I tried using the bathroom in the Anthropology/Art building (Kroeber) once, but there was a hobo taking a nap in one of the stalls. Like, a real hobo, with a bindle and everything. Traffic is also an important factor to take into consideration. Always choose graduate student/professor bathrooms over undergraduate bathrooms.
Step 2: Find the bathroom. Some floorplans are less intuitive than others. A rule of thumb I like to use is to follow the plumbing. If I can spot a water fountain, that usually means that I'm pretty hot.
Step 3: Check cleanliness. A visual check of the toilet seat is pretty important. My general criterion is for moisture/liquids. I like to avoid public toilet seats with foreign moisture/liquids on them. When this happens, I go to the next stall over. If I exhaust all the stalls in a given bathroom, I go to a harder to reach, less accessible (and by extension, cleaner) bathroom. This usually means climbing some stairs to a spot directly overhead the bathroom on the lower level.
Step 4: Poop!
Showing posts with label hunt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hunt. Show all posts
30 April 2010
02 November 2009
NaNoWriMo Day Two
Story starts here.
But his sense of calm shattered when the warm orange lights of the incubation room withered away as streams of blinding white light pierced through the triple-pane ceiling.
Well, that was then, and this was now. And now he was running for his life. He glanced over his shoulder to look back, into the hold of the helicopter he had just been released from. He saw the small, blinking red lights peering out of the darkness of the hold. He knew they were waiting giving him a head start. He knew he would be chased relentlessly, that the chasers were programmed with the sole intention of finding him.
Well, that's show business, he thought. All a part of the price of fame.
He wasn't entirely sure why he had signed the release. He blamed the bright lights. They knew that bright lights made him eye implant act up. But then there was the issue of the prize, of course he wanted the prize as much as the others. That's how it worked, they paid the money on one end to hunt him, and he got a share of it if he survived for long enough. Seemed like a fair enough deal at the time. He thought that he was smarter, better than them. He had the benefit of wits and good looks, and the others, well, they'd just have to live with vaporization at the hands of a metallic beast controlled by a spoiled fourteen year-old.
It really was a fabulous plan on paper. It just killed so many birds with one stone, so to speak, though he wasn't entirely sure what a bird was. He had heard about them in childhood, but he didn't really believe in birds. Anyway, the system was efficient. Everyone consented and some of them might even live. He still wasn't sure why the telekineticvision people had approached him. Maybe he shouldn't have entered that raffle that one time.
But the offer was good. He was willing to be hunted, for a price. And somewhere out there, people wanted to hunt, also for a price. Well, it was only a matter of time before a central program planner at the TKVN (telekineticvision network) had the bright idea of bringing these two groups of people together.
Of course the money was good. Otherwise he wouldn't be facing a godforsaken wild with a child's school backpack stuffed with survival supplies. He still didn't understand that part, the child's school backpack. He had a vague recollection of someone at the network saying that they were getting requests that there be more humor in the show. Blood and guts just got blase, after a while. So now it was blood and guts and Dora the Explorer. There was probably some sort of promotional tie-in as well, he thought.
He felt his eye-implant buzz with a mild current. He knew they were broadcasting, live too. He didn't quite recall what handicap he had, this time. This was his fourth time out. He had only to complete this one, and then one more, and he could go home, mound of cash in tow. But he wasn't thinking about that right now. Right now he needed a suitable place to stay while the others got weeded out. He could already see some of them right now, huffing along the ridges of the valley he was in. Idiots. The surest way to not last the first hour was to be as conspicuous as possible. Better you than me. He ducked down through the willow leaves, pushing them aside like a bead curtain in a doorway. The creek was running low and stones in the streambed were barely damp. It was cool, and he could feel his chest tire of running, the adrenaline wearing off, the wet square of t-shirt against his backpack against his back.
It was dusk, and through the gaps in the tree he saw the specks of the other contestants, silhouetted against a brilliant orange sky, warm and all-embracing. He looked back down to his feet, he didn't want to twist his ankle on the uneven stones. He had come this far. He didn't want an anticlimactic ending.
He saw something. From the smooth rounded forms of the stones, a distinctly angular object broke with the prevailing geometry. He stopped to pick it up.
But his sense of calm shattered when the warm orange lights of the incubation room withered away as streams of blinding white light pierced through the triple-pane ceiling.
Well, that was then, and this was now. And now he was running for his life. He glanced over his shoulder to look back, into the hold of the helicopter he had just been released from. He saw the small, blinking red lights peering out of the darkness of the hold. He knew they were waiting giving him a head start. He knew he would be chased relentlessly, that the chasers were programmed with the sole intention of finding him.
Well, that's show business, he thought. All a part of the price of fame.
He wasn't entirely sure why he had signed the release. He blamed the bright lights. They knew that bright lights made him eye implant act up. But then there was the issue of the prize, of course he wanted the prize as much as the others. That's how it worked, they paid the money on one end to hunt him, and he got a share of it if he survived for long enough. Seemed like a fair enough deal at the time. He thought that he was smarter, better than them. He had the benefit of wits and good looks, and the others, well, they'd just have to live with vaporization at the hands of a metallic beast controlled by a spoiled fourteen year-old.
It really was a fabulous plan on paper. It just killed so many birds with one stone, so to speak, though he wasn't entirely sure what a bird was. He had heard about them in childhood, but he didn't really believe in birds. Anyway, the system was efficient. Everyone consented and some of them might even live. He still wasn't sure why the telekineticvision people had approached him. Maybe he shouldn't have entered that raffle that one time.
But the offer was good. He was willing to be hunted, for a price. And somewhere out there, people wanted to hunt, also for a price. Well, it was only a matter of time before a central program planner at the TKVN (telekineticvision network) had the bright idea of bringing these two groups of people together.
Of course the money was good. Otherwise he wouldn't be facing a godforsaken wild with a child's school backpack stuffed with survival supplies. He still didn't understand that part, the child's school backpack. He had a vague recollection of someone at the network saying that they were getting requests that there be more humor in the show. Blood and guts just got blase, after a while. So now it was blood and guts and Dora the Explorer. There was probably some sort of promotional tie-in as well, he thought.
He felt his eye-implant buzz with a mild current. He knew they were broadcasting, live too. He didn't quite recall what handicap he had, this time. This was his fourth time out. He had only to complete this one, and then one more, and he could go home, mound of cash in tow. But he wasn't thinking about that right now. Right now he needed a suitable place to stay while the others got weeded out. He could already see some of them right now, huffing along the ridges of the valley he was in. Idiots. The surest way to not last the first hour was to be as conspicuous as possible. Better you than me. He ducked down through the willow leaves, pushing them aside like a bead curtain in a doorway. The creek was running low and stones in the streambed were barely damp. It was cool, and he could feel his chest tire of running, the adrenaline wearing off, the wet square of t-shirt against his backpack against his back.
It was dusk, and through the gaps in the tree he saw the specks of the other contestants, silhouetted against a brilliant orange sky, warm and all-embracing. He looked back down to his feet, he didn't want to twist his ankle on the uneven stones. He had come this far. He didn't want an anticlimactic ending.
He saw something. From the smooth rounded forms of the stones, a distinctly angular object broke with the prevailing geometry. He stopped to pick it up.
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