Week 10: The Weather in Columbia, SC

Welcome back boys and girls. I hope you were able to make it through last week without a blog post. I'm sure it was painful, but I'm back this week to bandage your wounds with seething words about a topic that none of us can change: the weather. I know what you're thinking, "wow Cole, the weather? What's next, odd numbers?" Well, possibly. I never have liked odd numbers. They just sit there all smug thinking they can't be cleanly divided by two. Who do they think they are? But back to the point. You may think the weather is inconsistent or annoying wherever you live, but I can guarantee it's nothing like the weather here in good ol' Columbia, South Carolina.

The Inconsistency: The weather here changes faster than a vegan's hair color. Let me walk you through my morning this past Wednesday: Woke up for my 8:05 class and it was absolutely pouring. So, I grabbed a rain jacket and put on my boots so I was prepared for the monsoon outside my door. After I got out of my second class at 10:30, I left the business building to see that it was 75 and sunny outside. So I complained internally (and probably externally a little bit) about the fact that I was wearing my heavy ass boots but I stuffed my rain jacket into my backpack and carried on with my day. I had a meeting from 12:15 to 1:15, and when I left that building it was RAINING AGAIN. So I stopped to put on my rain jacket. Then, no more than 10 minutes into my walk, the clouds cleared and it was sunny again because my life is a living first-world nightmare. At this point I had given up, so I just continued to walk to the library looking like I was prepared for a hurricane. I think that story about sums up how awful the weather changes are here. I could talk about how yesterday it was 75 degrees and today it was 50, or the fact that we'll go for weeks without rain and then have rain every day for a month, but I think you get the picture.

This is a cartoon because apparently that's what my life has become

The Extremes: If you ask a freshman from out of state why they chose to come to this godforsaken city, I can guarantee "the weather" will be somewhere in their response. Those people are dumb. Just wait until you make it a full year in Columbia and you'll quickly change your mind. In August and September, it's so humid outside that you don't know if you're sweating or if it's just water accumulating on your body. Combine that with an average temperature of 95 and you'll make it a rule to never wear gray for fear of having permanent backpack-shaped sweat stains on all of your shirts. Then, come October there's an immediate shift and it just rains. All the time. And never stops. Sometimes, it's rainy and cold as balls. But guess what? It just never reaches that combination of rainy and below freezing so we don't have school. Nope, it's always rainy and like 34 degrees. So you hate your life and you still have to go to class. When I go home, people always say "oh, South Carolina? I bet you love it down there, wearing shorts all the time." Shorts? The weather here either necessitates just underwear or a damn parka. There is no in between.

This is a real temperature in Columbia

Columbia's "brilliant" marketing team has branded the city as "Famously Hot." I think they should consider changing that. Something along the lines of "Famously Shitty" might get the point across. We have floods, ice, ridiculous heat, tornadoes, and everything in between. I really don't know what the deal is here. It's like the equator runs through all the countries on the middle of the globe (or, if you're a moron like B.o.B. and think the world is flat, through all the countries on the middle of the plate-like shape that is our world) and then juts up to Columbia, SC. The average temperature in Columbia's hottest month, July, is 92 degrees. Head 430 miles south to freaking Orlando, Florida and the average temperature in their hottest month, also July, is 82 degrees. Do you see the problem here? It's like mother nature took a huge dump on South Carolina and decided to name it Columbia. 

While this may be my most ridiculous complaint yet, those who live in Columbia will agree that the weather here sucks. I can't change it, but I can sure as hell complain about it. I hope you all have a great rest of your week, because with the way the weather has been so far, I probably won't.

Week 9: Facebook

Facebook has grown with our generation. Every few years it changes format to adapt to everyone's needs, but inevitably people complain. If you give them a few weeks, they'll get over it and carry on with their mundane lives. However, Facebook isn't what we should be complaining about. The real problem is the people that exploit Facebook and use it as a medium to show the world what they think we should care about. You know exactly who I'm talking about. Your high school friend who always posts the results of the "which baked good are you most like" quiz? Yeah, she's the worst, and not just because she's more like a key lime pie than a brownie.

The Food Videos: Facebook is now overrun with videos of food. Don't get me wrong, I love food. What I do not love is seeing 30 videos per day of a stranger's hands mixing ingredients together to make avocado-stuffed french toast. Okay, person on my timeline who barely made it through high school. You mean to tell me that you're going to attempt this recipe based on a 30 second video that doesn't even tell you how much of each ingredient to add? Enjoy your shit-toast, I'm going to be over here eating my toaster waffles and some scrambled eggs. And it's always shared with the same tagline: "@(insert that person's friend's name here) we should totally make this!" Guarantee that never gets made. You don't have the resources or the expertise to make twice-fried soy flax ice cream balls, no matter how "tasty" they may look on Facebook. If you do attempt to make them, however, I'd love to see a video of the grease fire. Don't try to put that out with water, by the way.

Cheese stuffed gluten-free quinoa balls?  

Political Posts: I hate campaign season. When there are no candidates running for president, if somebody makes a politically-fueled Facebook post (no matter which side, I can't stand it either way) I just unfriend them. The problem is that during campaign season, it's everybody. Here's the scenario: someone makes a Facebook post explaining Donald Trump's platform in barely legible English. Then, after that person is done explaining why Donald Trump is going to rule the world, every Bernie Sanders supporter on the planet feels compelled to comment on the post explaining why Donald Trump is wrong and why Bernie Sanders wants everyone to wear hemp underwear. This creates a chain of 30 or more comments. Why does this bother me if I'm not involved, you may ask? Seeing somebody post about how they want to kick everybody out of the country or force you to wear grass undergarments just has a way of making you hate them. Here's an idea: let's keep our thoughts to ourselves, shall we? If you like Donald Trump, fine. Nobody on Facebook gives a shit. If you like Bernie Sanders, fine, Nobody on Facebook gives a shit. If you do like these candidates, or any other candidate for that matter, and you'd like to debate about it, create a private group and keep it the hell off my timeline.

Why don't we just elect me president?

Memes: For those of you that don't know what a meme is, count your blessings. Memes are the dumb pictures that have words at the top and the bottom. I've attached one below so you know what I'm talking about. These have spread on Facebook like chlamydia around a college campus. People share them from other pages for no reason other than to rack up likes because they need some validation in their lives. Not only is it sad, it's annoying as hell. These pictures are NOT funny, and it's always the same people who share them. I hope those two likes made you feel better about yourself, pal, but your mom and grandma hardly count. All these pictures do is pointlessly crowd everyone's timeline.

Because everybody wants to know about your extra mcnugget

The only reason that I still have Facebook is so I can send out my blog (you're welcome) and marvel at some of the stupid choices people make. If we could clear all of this out of Facebook, it would be full of pictures and posts that users make in effort to keep in touch with other people. That, at the very least, is tolerable. I can live with tolerable.

I hope you all enjoyed this week's post. Be sure to tune in next week.

Week 8: People at the Gym

Now that everybody's New Year's resolutions have crashed and burned and they've accepted that they're going to be fat and lazy for another year, I've actually been able to make it into the gym. And boy was that a mistake. A college gym is a horrible, horrible place. I've broken down typical gym-goers into five groups of people, as follows:

Broulders: These people are like typical "bros," but king sized. They have arms the size of my head and heads the size of their hands. These are the people that cut their t-shirts to make them into tank tops because otherwise it's "too restrictive." Too restrictive for what? Maybe if they didn't wear a child's medium, that wouldn't be a problem. They generally struggle in school because they spend more time looking at themselves in the mirror than they do in class. They may have a photographic memory, but it's full of pictures of themselves. They generally drive giant pickup trucks. Do not try to talk to them at the gym, because they will only be able to respond with the words "whey" and "bicep."

Taking today's mental picture

Fashionistas: These people are generally women, but they can occasionally be men. They buy expensive, flashy workout clothing and loiter at they gym trying to attract attention. Occasionally they'll spend a minute or two on the elliptical before forming a bead of sweat and messing up their makeup, at which point they'll freak out and jump off. They generally pair well with broulders because they have about the same average IQ, and broulders like them because they can carry one in each arm. They go to the gym to hit on broulders, which doesn't work because broulders go to the gym to hit on themselves. They travel in packs and drive BMWs that their parents paid for. Do not try to talk to them at the gym, because they will ignore you.

Yeah you're here to work out...

Khakis Guy: That one guy who, inexplicably, is wearing khakis and a polo whilst working out. It's not as if he can't afford proper workout clothes, because what he is wearing is generally more expensive than a t-shirt and shorts. He will also probably be using one of the machines incorrectly. Drives a Toyota Camry. Do not try to talk to him at the gym, because he will say something weird.

Is that shirt moisture-wicking?

Sweaters: These people sweat. A lot. There is a real possibility that at any moment they could be having a heart attack, because there is no other reason to be sweating so profusely. They will drench their clothing, the equipment, and the floor. Do you think they wipe off the equipment when they're done greasing it up? Of course not, that would be far too sanitary. These people are also generally the ones who don't shower before leaving the gym. Hopefully they wear deodorant, but chances are they do not. Probably drive a moped so they can air-dry on the way home. Do not try to talk to them at the gym, because you will drown.

Who knew Adam Sandler was a sweater?

Slackers: Similar to fashionistas, but different in that they don't dress up. It's really a mystery why these people go to the gym at all. These are the people who go to the gym, take the elevator downstairs to get to the locker room, change, and play ping pong for 15 minutes before showering and leaving. Their average IQ tends to be higher than that of a broulder or a fashionista, but you just hope their work ethic is better in class than it is at the gym. They wonder why they haven't lost any weight after going to the gym once a month for two months. They don't own a car and expect rides to and from the gym from their "friends." Do not try to talk to them at the gym, because your productivity will drop dramatically.

That's got to be at least 700 calories burned right there

The gym may look less like a crowded nightclub now that people have given up on their New Year's resolutions, but that certainly doesn't mean it's an enjoyable place to go. If you do decide to venture into the depths of one of my many personal hells, keep a watchful eye. Farewell until next week.