Spring has finally arrived in Bowling Green, which can only mean one thing: more wind. Also, six more weeks of winter — with Halloween just around the corner.
And if that wasn’t enough for you, then add in some more wind, a little margarita mix, and you have a tornado or perhaps a very strong drink that is not Clearly Canadian but could be if you had a funny enough accent.
See, when people told me that the weather in Bowling Green would be crazy, I didn’t really believe them: “Hello, I’m from Illinois, remember? Home of Chicago? The Windy City?” But it turns out those people were mostly right, except for the guy who looked like a beaver, because I couldn’t understand him through all that chittering.
In fact, they were so right that I’ve nearly decided to give BG the “windiest place on earth” crown, which I conveniently have in my closet next to a pile of dirty socks which has not been washed for at least a year. On second thought, that smell might be the beaver from the last paragraph.
Notice that I said “nearly” — some days the weather around here decides to lighten up and show us a little sun, which is almost like when girls show a little cleavage, but not really.
It was only about two weeks ago that the sun finally woke up from its LSD-induced stupor and decided to remind us that it was, indeed, still alive. With this burst of sunlight and warmness comes the first inkling of summer clothing, or — referring to the ladies only — a lack thereof.
Actually, I have been surprised to see the overall student response to “spring” — for some reason I was expecting a lot more tight clothing right away, and so far that just hasn’t happened. I’ve only seen three skirts in the past few days, and so far no one has managed to accidentally flash me while I’m walking to class. There’s still plenty of time left in the school year though, ladies, so if you’d like a copy of my schedule I have plenty in my room.
Ok, scratch that. The beaver just jumped out of the closet and ate the whole stack.
But seriously, BG girls have really impressed me with their restraint the past few days, and I can only assume that’s because they are, indeed, just what that T-shirt says they are: No. 1 in the world.
Really.
And BG guys? Well, let’s just say BG guys aren’t even ranked on a list, possibly because no one drives out here to rank us, and possibly because we guys have a tendency to rove around in drunken packs as if we were baboons with pink hairy butts.
Like hyenas hunting for their next meal, herds of hooting horny college boys hoof it around campus in search of bad writers that overuse alliteration to the point of criminality. Indeed, if it wasn’t for bulging bladders, these bands of big boys would surely be barking up a tree at a certain scrawny humor columnist in the wee hours of the morning.
My point is, I don’t have a point. Rapidly changing weather systems have combined with extreme jet-lag inducing Daylight Savings Time to scramble my brain patterns and reduce my writing to nonsense. Also, I probably shouldn’t have let the beaver write the second half of this column.
Jim is walking around campus with a neon green poncho and a “BG Guys are #1” shirt. Drop him a line at [email protected].
