Blog or Not?

A statistically improbable polymath's views on politics and culture.

Monday, May 10, 2004
Captain's Log, Final Entry
Okay, the Blogging of the Hunt has been a little backlogged. I'll try to assemble a coherent account:

Thursday Afternoon: Almost missed my Probability midterm, but got to it in time. Found out that my roommate and Bilal were handcuffed together for a "friendship test" (one point per hour) Then slaughtered the competition in the "Arts and Entertainment" (read: every damn question is about Patrick Swayze) catagory in "Schollywood Huares", thus helping bring the Breckinridge team to second place.

Friday morning: Math, followed by work and trying to find the judges' blogs. Was unsuccessful in obtaining the signatures of the Committee on Microbiology approving a graduate thesis written on dining hall napkins, but did obtain petri dish and permission to leave it in the lab in the hopes of obtaining colorful bacteria.

Friday evening: The Party on the Quads. Saw my math teacher and a graduate student I work with. Our team definitely had the best party--you could actually discern the theme from it, and we had a fine selection of, uh, "juice" (because of course you can't serve alcohol on the Quads!) Shoshi (one of my fellow captain)'s boyfriend, a circus performer, breathed fire--we had to get a human shield from the chaperones (yes, there were two people from the facilities office ther) to prevent them from seeing the open flame. (Though I should give credit to Snell-Hitchcock, which also had a very clear theme and performed the dance from the "Thriller" video.)

Later that evening: At one point I may have been the only sober person on the Quads. Watched two people get naked and try to put on a sex show, but the guy was too drunk to "perform". (That's a PSA for not overdrinking if I ever saw one--but try to get Partnership for a Drug-Free America to air that.) At this point our party was the only one still going, and it kept going until the judges told us to pack up. (At least one of the judges was falling-down-drunk--I know, because he leaned on me when I was bringing him to our party to show him our self-exploding computer. A second judge almost got sick on one of the benches--good thing I had spare napkins from the thesis.) Fell asleep on one of the Hoover House couches.

Saturday morning: Got a surprisingly decent chunk of sleep for Scavhunt--6 hours. Time for ScavOlympics--hauled 50 pounds of Marx from the Regenstein to the center of the Quads for our bench-pressing contest. (Yes, Marx was specified, as was Engels). Ran through the halls of the University of Chicago Hospitals looking for Y. Oda's graduation from Pritzker (1959).

Saturday afternoon, post-dry Olympics: Retrieved bathing suit and change of clothes from Breck, scavenged a pushcart from 59th Street, found a source for a tree trunk, collected the petri dish (which sadly had no colorful bacteria growing yet) and ate pizza all before the Wet Games.

Saturday evening: Water polo. Made 3rd largest splash in the largest splash contest, even though my "largest splash" is rather pitiful. Presentation of Breck-Hoover's beautiful Italianate bateau for the boatrace--we didn't win, but our craft was seaworthy (read: could be put into Ratner's pool) and by far the most stylish. Kelly and Bilal did a synchronized swimming routine, still handcuffed. Then more arts and crafts at Hoover

Sunday morning: After two hours of sleep, try to calculate the square footage of our Giant Goddamn Sombrero--come up with 47', although I'm not sure if the equation we used for the G.G.S. was accurate, nor if I integrated properly. (I was never very good at surface integrals). Go to Judgement starving.

Sunday afternoon: Finally eat (thank God!) and watch the judging. Turns out one of the judges knew me from work, and scolded me for not getting the bacterial portrait done. This is what happens when a mathematician tries to culture bacteria. At any rate, my mapping of the CTA map to the US map was well-recieved, as was the Breck Castrating Cookie Vagina. I also registered Scav I. Hunt to vote, "changed my name" (or would have if one of my fellow captains, who shall remain nameless, had been around to do his notary public duty), and my roommate created one of Illinois's first same-sex marriage licenses.

Sunday evening: We place in fifth--as well as we could have expected considering our limited funding. First place goes to Snell-Hitchcock, which gladdened the hearts of all non Max Palevsky residents. We clean up the Hoover lounge and try to readjust ourselves to the real world.

And "PEN 15" is still written on my hand, although the "15" part has faded quite a bit due to my scrubbing.

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