SGA Elections and the Solar Plexus

So. Friday the 18th, after the last class, all 25 students running for SGA (Student Government Association) were given 30 seconds to introduce themselves and state their cases. We get one rep for every 35 students, so 10 or 11 will be chosen depending on how they count our class. I was third to last and watched as everyone before me was cut off by the infamous stopwatch. Well, I had been practicing.

Here’s what I said:

For those who don’t know me, let’s get aquainted:

I was the guy in Anatomy Lab
that got scalpel happy and cut out a slab
going through muscle that I swore was flab
and ended at ribs, less a cut than a stab.

And you may have heard there’s this guy at Grand Anse
who throws up a tightrope at his every chance
hops up onto it and then strikes the stance
of some crazy epileptic circus dance

Well that guy is me. I’m running with Jester.
Some call me “T.O.E.F.L.”, Meg call me “Toaster”
So please when you’re thinking,”Who should I vote for?”
Go find my name and cast your vote for Topher.

I then held the mic at arms length and let it fall to the floor, affecting the machismo of today’s current rappers (thinking of you, Corabi). As it bounced, the timer started beeping: exactly 30 seconds.

So, two things: first, the crowd didn’t get that it was a poem until the second stanza. This turned into a compliment later. Second, the other candidates were shocked (the other speeches didn’t ryhme) and everyone applauded.

For the inside jokes of that poem, here goes. So in my last letter when I wrote about wanting the scalpel, well they gave it to me and I cut deeply. I ended up cutting the origins for the superficial back muscles (which didn’t matter as we would do that in two days). The professor had some fun at my expense next lecture, so our entire class knew about the incident but not who was responsible. Jester and Meg are good friends of mine that are also running. The TOEFL is the Test Of English as a Foreign Language. In fact, some thought was given to making shirts that said “Vote for TOEFL, he speaks English”. It died in committee. Election results in next issue.

Other news: I’m beet red again and for good cause. When Ivan blasted the island, it did a number on the beaches, so Grand Anse beach is thirty feet shorter than normal and the cline is steeper than you’d expect. Today, two of my friends felt something hard underneath their blankets. It turned out to be some type of mosaic. They did some digging and discovered that it was enourmous and deeply buried. So we got to work uncovering this huge thing. It is 30′ in diameter and underneath .5′-2.5′ of sand from front to back. First by hand, then trash can, then shovel and finally by make-shift wheelbarrel (a grocery cart with a trashbag-lined bottom) we uncovered over half of the disk. The locals had forgotten it was there. So imagine alternating pie-cuts of green and white mosiac radiating from a red-shell center to affect the sun. It was and is again a dancefloor for beach parties.

Our work was cut short when our makeshift wheelbarrel collapsed under the load of sand. We said a few words and then took showers. Returning for lunch, we noticed a construction crew a few meters away with a sump pump. They were pulling saltwater away from their site and sending it back out to sea, to waste. With their permission, we pulled the nose over to our project and washed the floor clean. There remains a third of work left in the back and it will be very hard to finish, but we hope to have it licked by the end of next week. Celebrations will be had, pictures taken.

Never coming back, topher.

P.S. Some white crab came into my room through the porch and I freaked out like a schoolgirl. In case it ever happens to any of you, here’s what you do.

1) Tell no one. They will joke that you have crabs. Learned this the hard way.
2) Chase it into a corner and cluster bomb it with three tshirts.
3) Throw kit and kaboodle outside.
4) Brag to girls about how you handled the crab problem or, alternately, follow step one.

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