You know what they say: ‘You are what you eat!’ Unfortunately, this does not bode well for the vegan students who swiped into U.Va.’s Observatory Hill dining hall last Thursday. At 7:06 pm on Thursday, March 15, an entire human liver was found at the bottom of a student’s ~vegan~ beef stroganoff.
The unlucky first-year, who refused to give their name for fear of being ostracized by their suitemates for cannibalism, told investigators that they were at first puzzled, then completely horrified at the discovery: “I was wondering why the person gave me such a huge portion because my bowl felt weirdly heavy. It was only until after the fifth or sixth bite that I was convinced that the taste was not just the usual O’Hill funk, and that in fact something was seriously f*cked up with my noods.”
While some may question why it took so long for the student to comprehend O’Hill’s egregious error, the facts make sense when one considers the average portion size and median yuck factor of the typical O’Hill meal.
A survey of students during the Thanksgiving dinner rush, or roughly 80,000,000 students, found that the majority of students, including those whose body metrics fell close to the national averages of their gender — 5’4’’ and 140 lb for women, 5’9’’, 5’’, and 195 lb for men — felt that they struggled to get enough daily sustenance through dining hall cuisine alone. One does not even have to delve into the stats to register that this sentiment is not uncommon. “I’m sorry, but who in their right mind considers two ravioli as a legit meal?” said everyone ever when they made that butternut squash ravioli that one time.
Not only does the meager portion size poses a serious annoyance, it also creates a significant potential health concern. Students, driven by hanger and stress, frequently compensate for the Buzzfeed Tiny Kitchen-sized portions by devouring multiple “meals” simultaneously. The amount of calories consumed in one sitting can therefore become exponentially more ambiguous. Furthermore, all those seemingly unthreatening small-a** plates legitimately pose a serious tripping hazard. Students can often be observed on their way to the dish drop-off area teetering around whilst balancing more than three dishes at a time. Every one of O’Hill’s regular patrons knows too well the sound of metallic tines clattering to the floor and the exorbitant amount of embarrassment that accompanies it.
As for the yuck factor, there is an established scale that every U.Va. student subconsciously utilizes. Following the standard 1 to 10 point set-up, the yuck factor scale measures the amount of disgust experienced during a dining hall meal, with 1 being, “these previously frozen Mrs. T’s pierogies are pleasant and mildly satisfying,” and 10 being, “this is 100 percent going to give me the s**ts in about 20 minutes, and oh, wait, this might be human.” On a fantastic day, an O’Hill regular will typically encounter a 2 or a 3 with some minor indigestion. Cannibal Carl, as the pledge brothers of the anonymous plaintiff will now call him even after his daughters are all married, just happened to nab the only perfect 10 of his life. Poor Carl.
A few last biting questions remain. To whom did the liver belong and how did it pass the test for vegan beef stroganoff? Are any O’Hill employees known to be especially partial to some fava beans and a nice Chianti? Finally, how will the University respond to these food safety allegations? An investigation is currently underway.