Gossip, Allegations and Innuendo
"Please, don't throw the marshmallows at me. I hate it when they throw the marshmallows at me. It wounds my heart." -- Stanford Head Coach Bill Walsh.
THOSE NUTTY ALUMS
Anyone who has ventured out into the Land of Massive Tailgates before a football game (and has seen the 60-foot-long blue -and-gold buses that alumni have actually bought to take them to and from the games) knows that Notre Dame alums are of the wilder variety. But the Gipper still blinked at this report from a Zahm Hall resident. Before the last football game, at about 8:00 a.m., a random plaid-clad wandered into the Zahm Zoo, went to his old room and promptly barged in on the sleeping Zahmbies. The residents were not startled by the intrusion, since most male Notre Dame students are able to sleep through visits from several drunk or senile alumni. What was shocking about this particular Zahm visitor was that when he excused himself for waking the students, he produced a case of Molson bottles and courteously explained, "When I was a student here I always dreamed of some guy walking into my room and giving me a case of beer for free -- so here you go." That is a man with class.
And never let it be said that Notre Dame students were eggheads way back in the thirties. The Gipp was recently cornered by an alum from class of nineteen thirty-something and, just as the Gipper was ready to lapse into a standing coma, this old plaid-clad turned out to be pretty funny. One day when this guy lived in Morrissey, he and his floor-mates decided they were sick of their rector. So they filled up two garbage cans with water (and bodily fluids) and balanced them on top of a partially opened door. When it was time, one student faked an injury and the others went to get Father Rector. When father went running into the room, not only was he soaked to the skin, but he was also knocked unconscious by the falling garbage cans. The Gipp thinks that's a pretty classy trick, too.
CHATEAU PITS
Speaking of Morrissey, while it is quite clear to any visitor that Morrissey takes first honors in the "Biggest Dump on the Campus" contest, events of the last weeks had even the Manorites shuddering with disgust. It seems that in addition to the regular revolting smell that permeates the halls of Morrissey, the east side of the building was becoming extraordinarily pungent, especially in the showers. After a while, the odor became so bad that residents on the east side started travelling to the west side to wash. Eventually the maids discovered the source of the stench: it seems that the rat poison which they had fed the rats of Morrissey caused the rodents to become inordinately thirsty; one poor rat, in an effort to quench his thirst got caught in a water pipe and died. Yes, you guessed it, Morrissey men were showering in decomposing rat for a while. Can you say Zest-fully clean?
DRASTIC MEASURES
Lacking social lives on weekends when the football team plays away, several Flannerites decided to make it a video weekend after the Michigan State game. Since most of the female population of campus was in Video Watch picking up the last copies of Sleepless in Seattle and Thelma and Louise, the boys went over to Martin's. About a week later, Jan from Martin's was tired of calling at 7:00 a.m. and demanding the return of her movie, so she got serious. She left what is, in the Gipp's humble opinion, one of the funniest dumb threats to come out of anybody, including the Gipp's rector. Jan said: "This message is for Terrence. This is Jan at Martin's again, if you don't return our movie, we'll have to prosecute to get it back." Oh yeah, like Martin's is going to go the the Circuit Court of Saint Joseph's county to have a judgement rendered over a $14.95 video that costs 69 cents a day if it's overdue. Does Jan think that she could make it impossible for this kid to buy a house one day if he doesn't return her movie?
DON'T DROP YOUR LOAD
The Gipper has always had his suspicions about the Main Building's structural soundness for no better reason than the stairs sagging at a 45-degree angle to the right and the whole fifth floor being condemned. But the Gipper has always listened to the staff architects who say the Main Building is just fine, if only a little old. The Gipper just didn't notice the architects' noses getting longer as they said this.
It was this sign which tipped the Gipp that his suspicion about the Main Building was right. The Gipper found this note on the door of a store room on the fourth floor. It really doesn't say much interesting other than "Dropping heavy loads endangers the ceiling and the occupants of the office directly below." Endangers occupants of the office directly below? The Gipper has images of workers gently easing extra copy machines off dollies so that they don't all go plummetting through a floor and onto some poor secretary below. And does this count for the whole building: could Monk suddenly find himself and his desk sprawled out on the floor of the alumni office?
The Gipp can only imagine the workers' fear in the infamous "Office Directly Below." The Gipp tried to talk to people in this office but it was too hard to understand them through the motorcycle helmets they were wearing.
That's it, that's all for this week. So now the Gipp is going to begin his hunger strike until that damn Pitt flag is taken down from the stadium flag poles. News flash: we don't play Pittsburgh again until 1997.
Gipper.1@nd.edu