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.

Week 7: Elevator Etiquette

This week I'll be talking about those fancy steel boxes that transport you from one level of a building to another. You know, elevators. Full disclosure: I was deathly afraid of elevators until I was at least 12, so I rarely took them. I was still able to figure out proper elevator etiquette because I'm a normal functioning human being who can read and understand social cues. Earth shattering, I know. If I could figure it out at age 12, people who have been using elevators since birth should have it down pat, right? Shockingly enough, that's not the case.

When to get on: This one is pretty simple, folks. You get on the elevator after the people on the elevator have gotten off. It's not a race to see who can get into the box the fastest after the doors slide open. How many times have you gotten to your floor and stood by the door, ready to step out into the hall, when all of a sudden you're standing face to face with Impatient Isaac, who's poised to stride onto the elevator with no regard for anybody else? Wait the three seconds for people to step off the elevator. You won't miss your shot at the elevator ride of a lifetime. It'll all be okay, I promise.

Number of floors: If you take the elevator up one level and you're not handicapped, fuck you. Drag your lazy ass up one flight of stairs and maybe you'll shed a few pounds. Someone should build an elevator with a function where if you press the button to go up or down just one floor, Mike Tyson comes out and punches you in the throat. The elevator is made for people who are physically unable to take the stairs and for people who have to go to the 15th floor. It's not made for you to use after your exhausting 100 yard walk from the parking lot.

Talking on the phone: Do not talk on the phone in an elevator. If you're already talking on the phone, don't get into an elevator. It's that easy. Nobody wants to be stuck in a small ass steel cube with you anyway, and they certainly don't want to hear you tell Julie about how Alex is totally hooking up with Hannah but she deserves so much better than him because she's only hooked up with 30 guys this semester and he's hooked up with like 50 girls. You'd think the fact that you lose service in an elevator would be a pretty good deterrent for this behavior, but it's not. Inevitably the phone will drop the call, at which point the person will gaze at the screen with an astonished look as if hundreds of thousands of pounds of concrete and about 6 inches of steel don't usually interrupt their cell service. People suck.

Not holding the door: This one goes two ways. First, hold the door when people are getting on and off the elevator, asshole. Don't just let the doors close on that little old lady and act like there's nothing you could have done about it. Now on the other hand, if you're running up to the elevator and the doors are halfway closed, don't scream "HOLD THE DOOR!" Um, no, screw you. If you think I'm risking my arm so that you can avoid waiting two minutes for the next elevator, you're delusional. I also don't have the lightning-fast reflexes required to find and press the "open door" button within 1.5 seconds. You're taking the next elevator, and I don't feel bad about it at all.

Elevator capacity: Contrary to popular belief, you cannot fit an entire city's population into an elevator. I don't care how short the ride is, I don't want to be pressed up against somebody just because the last 6 people didn't want to wait for the next elevator. Guys, elevators are not rare animals. I've seen a bunch of them in my short 21 years. What I'm getting at is that another one will come around, and in less than 3 minutes. You don't need to pack into it like white girls into a brand new Starbucks. 

People really need to learn how to properly use elevators. It's not challenging. It's actually just about the easiest thing you could do. All you have to do is be a respectable human being, a quality that continues to escape an astounding percentage of our population. 

The next time you take an elevator, just open up Cole's Complaints if you need to remind yourself how you should act. Good luck on those elevators this week. It's a jungle out there.

Week 6: Grammar

Alright loyal readers, we need to talk about something: your grammar sucks. Never has a generation had more trouble with simple English than ours. I don't know if that's actually true, but I can't imagine that our society would have made it this far if our ancestors spoke and wrote the way most everybody does today. I don't know if it's an education issue or just that people don't care, but I often feel as if I'm one of the few people in college who graduated from third grade. It's nearly impossible to peer review papers based on content because I have to sift through pages upon pages of grammatical bullshit. Buckle in for a lesson.

Here's a simple chart I made to help you out

They're, Their, There: It's really pretty simple. The items found in the chart above are some of the most common mistakes even though they're probably the simplest to fix. I'm so tired of people saying things like "your a asshole, stop corectin my grammer." While I may be "a asshole," I'm really just trying to help you pull that D+ average up so you can graduate from your 7th year of college with some dignity. No matter how many times I explain the simple rules found above, I will undoubtedly receive a text soon afterwards that reads: "my teacher is such a dik! He is makin me go 2 his office but i dont wanna go over their." If you don't know why either of those sentences are incorrect, educate yourself until you figure it out. I can guarantee that if you memorize these 5 rules, all of which you should've memorized before you left the womb elementary school, you'll see at least a letter grade higher on every paper.

Me and my friends: If you never write a single thing, you could maybe squeak through life without learning those 5 rules and avoid sounding like you fall on your head every morning. There are lots of grammatical rules, however, that are easily identifiable in every day speech. One of them is "me and my friends" or, correctly, "my friends and I." If you say "me and John went to the movies," or something equivalent, I assume that you drink a lot of Mountain Dew and enjoy listening to Nickelback. Of course, everybody makes mistakes and I'm only talking about the people who say this regularly. Here's how this rule works, Mountain Dew-drinking imbeciles: if you're saying, "I am going to learn how to use proper grammar," then for you and a friend it would be "John and I are going to learn how to use proper grammar." On the other hand, if you're saying, "Cole taught me some valuable lessons today," then for you and a friend it would be "Cole taught Stacy and me some valuable lessons today." Get it? Got it? Good. Moving right along.

Incorrect spelling: You can't fix stupid. There is pretty much nothing you can do about this one except learn how to spell. There's even a magical computer program that exists today called spellcheck. This wizardry will look at what you've typed and will put an idiot-proof red line underneath the word if you spelled it wrong. Seems simple, right? Evidently not. I had a group project last year on discrimination in the workplace, and one of my group members was writing about sexism. Throughout the entire paper she spelled it sexisum. Not, once, not twice, but every damn time she used the word. Is "sexisum" a recognized word in the dictionary of computer magic? You bet your sweet ass it's not. And when was the last time you saw a Facebook post from that high school friend who always posts selfies that didn't have a spelling mistake in it? Oh, never? That's what I thought. That's the same person who thinks Alaska is part of Canada and spells Native Americans "Nate of Americans." Frequent spelling mistakes (learning disabilities aside, and trust me, Greg who works at Chili's doesn't have a learning disability) are a great mark of idiocy.

I hope you all enjoyed this week's installment, and maybe some of you even learned a thing or two. 

Week 5: The Worst People in Class

Well, school has reappeared like herpes. We all know that school sucks, but it goes much deeper than just long Red Bull-and-Taco Bell-fueled nights and early morning classes with monotonous professors. The return of school also means the return of thousands of morons that you've been trying to avoid since the beginning of your freshman year. Yes, this week's blog post is about the worst people in class, which is really nearly everyone. Disclaimer: These names have genders but horrible people can be both men and women. We don't discriminate here.

Person 1: Incessantly Late Larry. This person, no matter what, will never arrive to class on time. Doesn't matter if the class is at 8:30 am or 3:00 pm, he'll be late. Larry is guaranteed to be the guy who climbs over you to get to the seat in the middle of the row 15 minutes into class, with absolutely no apology issued. Why is Larry always late? It's a complete mystery. The most dumbfounding part about Incessantly Late Larry is that he never seems to understand that he's doing something wrong. If the professor calls him out for being late, he'll usually respond with some sort of bulletproof alibi like, "sorry, I was sleeping." Larry is also guaranteed to be unprepared. I had a Larry sitting next to me in my 10:05 class today (he came 15 minutes late, because who can wake up for a 10:05 class, right?) and he was taking notes on his phone. Really? You don't have a single piece of paper or a pen in your backpack? What is it full of, excuses? There's guaranteed to be a Larry in your class, but he's nowhere near the worst.

Person 2: Body Odor Olivia. This person smells like a garbage can slept inside a sewer, then took a shit shower before class. They usually reek of cigarettes, last night's mistakes, 3 week old jeans, mayonnaise, and a hint of death. You can smell this person when they walk in the room and all you can do is pray that they don't sit next to you. Inevitably, they do. No joke, I've moved because a Body Odor Olivia sat next to me. How am I expected to sit next to a human dumpster for an hour and 15 minutes and not singe the inside of my nostrils? Plus, I'm always worried that some of their stench will leech into my own clothing. Here's a handy tip: use deodorant, brush your teeth, and take a fucking shower every once in a while. Everybody around you will thank you, and you might see your 10 year friendship drought finally end.

Person 3: Mouth Breather Brendan. This person is a neanderthal. It's really a wonder how they got into college at all. You can only assume that their parents have a lot of money. If not, they're going absolutely nowhere. This person often overlaps with Incessantly Late Larry. This is the guy who asks the professor where they should put their name on the Scantron. Definitely NOT in the big section that says NAME. That's where you put your social security number and a photo of the front and back of your credit card, please and thanks. Mouth Breather Brendans travel in packs. They'll all walk in on the first day laughing hysterically about how this is the 3rd time they've taken this class. I guess there's something hilarious about being in college for 6 years. When a Brendan sits next to you, they'll ask you what page the professor is on when the professor is reading from an internet article. They'll say things like, "ugh, I haven't been out to the bars all week" on a Tuesday morning. They'll ask to borrow your calculator in English class. Mouth Breather Brendans are idiots. They're the reason that professors say, "there are no such thing as bad questions." But you know for damn sure there are.

Person 4: Obviously-A-Freshman Fred: This person is quite a freshman. We were all freshman at one point, and I don't mean to say that we weren't. But this person is the worst type of freshman. Fred comes into class on the first day and introduces himself to each and every human sitting around him. Then, he asks what their major is, where they're from, and what they want to be when they're "all grown up." Fred probably has his room key and student ID hanging from a lanyard around his neck, and was the first person on campus to have a hoverboard. It's cool to be a freshman, Fred, but don't make it so damn obvious. It's painful.

Person 5: Overly Eager Elizabeth. This person is the worst of all five. Elizabeth answers every single question in class, considers her summer job at Burger King an internship, and emailed the professor over the summer to introduce herself. She thinks she's better than everybody else in the class, and she doesn't ever consider the fact that maybe other people are doing just as well as her but don't feel the need to gloat about it. Sometimes, Overly Eager Elizabeth raises her hand so fast that you think she might have dislocated her shoulder. The most satisfying part about these people is that usually, the professor thinks they're just as annoying as the rest of the class does. This person also still talks about her SAT scores, and when she was a freshman she told everyone she was "technically a sophomore because of AP credits." Thank God she's graduating in only 3 years, because then we don't have to deal with her anymore. 

There are scores upon scores of obnoxious people at any college. The worst part is that a lot of them date each other, which means they'll eventually reproduce and have the worst kids on the planet. The cycle will never end. 

See you all next week.

Week 4: LOL

Okay, I know what's on all of your minds. I missed a week. I'm sorry. That's going to happen every once in a while if you want quality blog posts. But you know the coolest part about having missed a week? It really doesn't matter what you think because it's my blog. This week I'll be talking about something that any rational, older-than-preteen person should also take issue with, and that is the shortening of phrases into words that don't exist. I'm talking about things like "lol" or "btw" or "brb" or "pwutdbttf" (people who use these deserve bricks to the face).

This is a real problem. These acronyms emerged in the mid 2000s, when all of us first started using instant messaging. It was also, coincidentally, when we were all first learning how to type. So naturally we developed acronyms so we could avoid having to type. That was all well and good IN 6TH GRADE. The problem is that it stuck with us, and now those 6th graders are college students and they're still using these damn acronyms. Please don't put "btw" in a text to me. You're educated. It really doesn't take that much longer to type "by the way" (I should know, I just typed it) and it makes you sound at least 60 times smarter. And trust me, some of you people need all the help you can get. This is a real message that was put in a GroupMe by one of my real friends who goes to my real college:

Can anybody else decode this nonsense? Because I had to ask what like 4 of these things meant. For reference: plz=please, lmk=let me know, bc=because, kms=kill myself. I think an easier way to write this would have been, "Smne plz lmk who n thre rte mnd wnts 4 kds n 4 yrs bc i wnt 2 kms." It gets the same message across and took like, at least 5 fewer seconds to write. I've also learned that if you can write like that, it makes you the coolest kid in your middle school.

Another problem with these acronyms is that it's never really clear what they mean. My mom thought "lol" meant little old ladies for like 2 years before we told her it meant laughing out loud. My dad thought it meant lots of love. Do you know how disastrous that could have been? Imagine a Facebook post about somebody who's lost a loved one, and my dad comments, "Lol, keeping you in my prayers!" That could have actually happened. Thank goodness it didn't. If nobody knows the acronym that you're using, it completely defeats the purpose of using that acronym. It doesn't make the conversation any shorter if everybody has to ask you what the hell you're trying to say. 

I realized a few weeks ago, with shock, that this disease had afflicted my family as well. We were sitting in the car, and my sister said "lmk" (which means let me know, as you'll remember) in verbal communication. As in, my two sisters were talking, and she said something along the lines of, "yeah sure, just lmk." That came out of her mouth. Do you know what this means for my family? We had to move. Both of my parents had to quit their jobs. That sister was forced to drop out of college and she's now living a humble life as a blueberry farmer. It's one thing to type three letters because you think it's shorter than typing three words. You'll look ridiculous, but you could at least back up your actions with facts and statistics. But "lmk" and "let me know", in verbal communication, have the same number of syllables. That means it takes the exact same amount of time to say either one. So you could say "lmk" and look like a jackass, or you could say "let me know" and look like, well, a normal human being speaking to another normal human being. Because that's how humans communicate.

My real fear for my sister is how this will affect her in the future. Does she speak to her friends like that? What do they think of her? What will happen when she goes to a job interview? If the interviewer says "let me know what you think about our benefits," will she just respond with a blank stare because she's forgotten what let me know means? If the interviewer says something funny, will she respond with, "lol" instead of just laughing? These are questions that need answers. 

There's no question that these acronyms are making us, as a society, dumber. I think all colleges should hold a class on how to erase all the bad habits that your 6th grade self learned. In it, you'll learn about deodorant that isn't Axe, how to spell out full words, how to properly address an email, the difference between your and you're, and how to have a full conversation without using the word bro. We'll call it Being an Adult 101.

I hope you all enjoyed this week's post. Farewell until next week.