Sad.

Not me; society.

So, I'm at the front desk of Rice Hall, voxin' with Tina, when the RD shows up, bringing with her a number of supplies of forbidden nature here at Iona College, to whit, alcoholic paraphernalia, including a length of tubing that had a half of a two-liter bottle foil taped to it, creating a crude but serviceable funnel.

"Have we been out a-confiscating?" I ask.

"Yes, we have," she responds, and holds up a bucket full of turkey basters.

Now... when I see turkey basters I think of dinner first, insemination second, and alcohol never. So I question their presence. I am shown that the bucked has been labeled "* our gin bucket!!! *" and am informed that there is a practice whereupon the bucket is filled with a mix of two-thirds gin, one-third Sprite, and sliced lemons. The created concoction, which I will henceforth refer to as 'vile hellwater,' not so much because it contains Sprite but because it's in a Got-Dam bucket, is either funneled down the throats of party participants or taken in 'shot' form via the aforeseen cooking implements.

Now, I am not a perfect person. I do not go all out all the time, but there are evenings I remember less clearly than others. All the same, there is a point where you must say to yourself: "It's Thursday morning and I'm drinking gin from a turkey baster. Is this really where I want my life to be?"

... one only hopes that the answer will be "no."