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College: a land of cynical, depressed drunk-ass kids, wandering around, trying to find an extra curricular that makes them feel better about their sorry selves. Or so it porpoises to be. But what college is really about is about responsible, selfless, giving kids who want to make a difference. When I came to Wesleyan, the admissions staff bowed down before my sexy self and said, "Anything you want to become involved in, your highness, we shall make possible. Should you want to give President Benatar a weekly sponge bath, we shall make it possible." So I jumped at that, and I haven’t regretted it yet (yum!)

But I have been thoroughly disappointed in the accesibiltyinessism of the "supposedly capable" students "running" these "programs," and shocked by the irresponsibilty of the extra curricular activities I have chosen to peruse.

As a wee cute little freshling, I went to the Argus informationalityish meeting and signed up to do my duty as an intelligent, hard-working student interested in journalism. I also signed up at the Argus booth at the activities fair. I also sold my body to the editorial board last year, and offered to wash the windows of the Argus building. Let me tell you, I showed them I was writer material.

I got called, but my schedule that week conflicted, and I couldn’t meet the deadline. Not wanting to commit to something when I already had something else to do, something that most of the other students at this school are capable of doing, I said no. I never, ever, ever heard from the Argus again.

Except that I actually did. I responded to an ad for an assistant layout. They emailed me back, sent me an application, and called me in at the beginning of the next semester. The second I entered the building, the printer exploded. With all the flaming bodies running around and smoldering carcasses, I felt it wasn’t the best time to sell my layout skills.

You can see the trend appearing here: I was called to write another story, after I got in contact with the Argus again. I said no again because I had another "prior committment." I came in to try and copy edit, but the editors didn’t bow down before me and lick my shoes. 

Never turn away a volunteer. This is the definition of a volunteer: "1) a female canine animal, especially a dog 2)something very unpleasant or difficult." Anyone who fulfills this description is more than likely willing to do it well, often, and with many men at once. 

The entire ordeal has left me hungry. I am writing this to alert the Argus to its extreme lack of professionalityismness. ALERT! ALERT! Imagine submarine noises, if you will. Hell, I know
I am.

Regardless of quality, anything that I read in the Argus will lack credibility. I have decided, also, that anything else I have a bad experience with, I shall forthwith not like and complain about. So watch out professors, administrators, Public Safety, friends, family members, and my dog. Oh, wait. I ran over my dog. Shit.