Wednesday, April 6, 2011

WWMD (what would MacGyver do?)

So, as you probably heard, I got fired last week. To make a long story short, the whole Collegian office went on strike, which almost ended up bringing down the entire ASWWU body, so, in an effort to restore order, President McVay allowed me my job back – if I so chose. Let’s face it. I’m kind of a big deal, which could probably explain why you just turned to my page first.

On my way back to the Olympic Peninsula over spring break, I fell victim to one of the worst things that could happen on any road trip; I locked my keys in my Chevy Blazer. To put it bluntly, I was screwed. Here I was, stranded in the middle of the Cascades at a tiny pit stop known as Easton, which comprised of one Shell gas station, some hairy mountain men and a couple log cabins. There I was, alone in the cold, shouting curses vehemently into the heavens. It was getting dark, and I still had to catch a ferry. I had to act quickly. Inside the gas station, I got a hold of a phone book. Only then did I realize that the nearest locksmith was roughly two hours away – and it was after business hours. It then dawned on me that I could be spending the night in one of those log cabins with a hairy mountain man.

I started to get mad. I realized what a helpless, insignificant human being I was. This compelled me to start thinking about what MacGyver or Jack Bauer would do in a situation like this. Suddenly, I was pumped with rage. I was refusing to admit defeat. Just like that, the powers of MacGyver entered into my body, and for the first time in my life, I was MacGyver. I started to search the station for anything I could use to break into my own car. My eyes rested on a couple of “Jiffy Pops.” Unraveling the wire from the aluminum foil, and fastening them together with duct tape, I made a crude wire hook. Racing against the setting sun, I wedged the homemade device down through the top of my window. After thirty minutes of sheer concentration, I was rewarded with a resounding “click.” I did it. I had broken into my own car. Win.

We human beings were made to survive. When aliens attack our cities, we destroy the mother ship. When zombies take over the Earth, we form colonies of resistance. When we get locked out of our cars, we get back in them. So, remember: Never give up, never surrender!

Really?!

When Bill Lenz approached me about taking over for Brendan for the remaining eight issues of the Collegian, something like this went through my head:

Really, Brendan? Did you really have to print that inappropriate verbatim quote? I mean really. You embarrass me as a successor. Really. Because we all know that I never wrote anything that could have gotten me fired. I was an angel. I mean, really. Have some respect for our paper.”

In addition, I was less than enthused about pulling out the old cynicism. “Do you know how many enemies I made last year?” I asked Bill. “Yes, I do,” he replied with a snicker. “Lots!” And it’s true. I’m still blacklisted at the U-Shop, Campus Sound workers turn my monitors off and anyone who has ever played FarmVille or used Axe deodorant shoots me a dirty look when I pass by. I’ve been paying for that stuff all year. I’m sorry, alright?! Really, I am! Okay, I’m not really that sorry. But then it dawned on me. I’ve got a pretty big store of pent-up annoyance to get rid of. This could help.

Which brings me to a little something I like to call, “Really?!” with Alban Howe.

Really, Brendan? You changed your facebook status from “single” to “engaged,” just so you could get in on the Engaged Couple’s Seminar? Really? Just because it’s scheduled on the Abundant Life Weekend doesn’t mean you’re going to have one by going. I mean, really.