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An open application for a Lawn room

I've applied for a Lawn room every year at this University, and every year my efforts to procure myself a spot of immortal glory have been rebuffed by a Lawn committee grown fat with self-importance. They choose people according to what is called a "GPA," as well as the number and quality of their so-called "achievements." This is obviously an inefficient metric by which to select those worthy of a Lawn room because the best candidates (i.e. me) don't get picked.

So I'm looking at my Lawn application for my third year and I'm wondering, what's the trick? How can I unlock this discriminatory Rubik's Cube of selective algorithms? And then it hits me. Obviously, I've been going about this all wrong. I've been submitting my application to a committee that gets to decide in secret, allowing committee members to view my awesome application and toss it aside in favor of lesser mortals' applications.

The only way to ensure a spot on the Lawn is to submit an application publicly and let the people decide. The committee can't turn down greatness when they know that there will be repercussions for doing so, forcing them to accept me. What follows is the aforementioned awesome application.

GPA: As I have no idea what this means or stands for (do you mean GTA? Because I'm great at that game, if that's what you're asking), I'll guess that you want to know who my favorite comic book superhero is. Iron Man. Thank you for asking.

Explain your GPA (Optional): Iron Man (a.k.a. Tony Stark) is the superior choice for superhero because he is a normal human being who, through hard work and a heavy helping of brains, was able to craft a virtually impenetrable suit that puts him on the same level as those comic book characters with superpowers. I am a lot like Tony Stark ... minus the hard work and brains. I do own suits though.

Achievements: I once read a whole book in one sitting. True story. The "Hatchet" sequels were not nearly as good as the original, in my opinion.

I know most of the lyrics to most of the songs on my iTunes.

I have thus far "achieved" a level 29 in Halo 2 multiplayer. It would probably be an Honor offense, however, if I didn't tell you that I left my Xbox at home for the semester because my grades were slipping, so that level is likely to stay the same for quite some time.

The other day one of my professors said "Good answer! You get a gold star!" Again, however, I feel obliged to say that I did not actually receive said gold star -- nor was I the person to whom the professor was actually speaking. Nevertheless, I was present.

On Friday, Flea looked me square in the eye. I swear to God.

I have also achieved nirvana. It's not as cool as you'd think.

Activities: Arts and crafts, mostly. You know, log cabins made from tongue depressors, coloring inside the lines, etc.

-- Basking in my own radioactive glow after rolling around in discarded Newcomb food.

-- Streaking those areas of Grounds that are not often streaked. Examples include the steam tunnels, the observatory and the green line (physically on the bus, not just the route).

-- Writing letters to fictional celebrities to see if they'll write back, like the oven mitt from the Arby's commercials, the Geico gecko and Suri Cruise (ba-zing!).

I also knit.

What are your goals: I'm a humble man. All I want in this world is a Lawn room, a pet tiger named Grover (if he's albino then that's great, if not ... I can live with it), a Ferrari 360 Modena, a day calendar that doesn't cheat by having one page for both Saturday and Sunday and world peace. No, scratch that last one. I want a peanut-butter-and-jelly-sandwich-making machine. Yeah, that would rock. My goal is to obtain all of this and then die a few years before I start to see what's so funny about "Golden Girls" or so compelling about "Matlock." Then I'd like a bench somewhere dedicated to my memory that says something obnoxious when sat upon like, "You're so fat that when you get on the elevator, the maximum capacity is you!"

So ends my application to the Lawn committee. My other two applications from years past have been approximately as awesome as this one, so you can see how frustrated I am that I have, as of this date, not yet been offered a room. Will the committee complacently allow an injustice to stand in this world by again denying me a room this year? We shall see. If they do, well, there's always next year. I don't care if I'm still living on Grounds even after I graduate, and, with credentials like mine, neither should the Lawn committee.

Jim's column runs on alternating Tuesdays. He can be reached at russell@cavalierdaily.com.

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