Volume 94, Issue 7


More to Sloan than Money City Maniacs

Being Whipped isn't much fun

Suspense worth watching - but Keanu is not the highlight

No summer lovin' for me

Experts agree: Two out of three CD's aren't good

No summer lovin' for me

By Matt Pearson
Arts & Entertainment Editor

It's September and while everyone around you is settling into the rituals of school, the only question on their minds seems to be, "How was your summer?"

To those people, I respond with a stern, "It sucked."

For starters, what was with the weather? Three months of grey skies, rain and crappy weekends, followed by one month of sticky humidity, conveniently coinciding with the weekends in which people were all moving back into this oven of a city.

For me, the weekends that actually had some promise were of course hobbled by car trouble. Imagine stalling in the middle of the intersection at Wharncliffe and Riverside during a torrential rain storm. Then picture yourself waiting approximately all night to get a tow home.

When the tow truck finally arrives, a guy named Stu takes one look at your pathetic car and asks, "Is it really worth towing? I have some lighter fluid in the trunk."

Soaking wet and miserable, you finally arrive home and tuck in for the evening, looking forward to a nice quiet date with your television. One problem – the only thing on TV is re-runs and trashy, reality-based shows a la Survivor and Big Brother. Defeated, you take some Aspirin and call it a night.

Even worse than bad TV is no TV at all. No surprise, that also happened. How about coming home from a day's work, at a dead-end summer job, only to discover that your television, your stereo and your picture of mom have all been removed by someone who was likely wearing a ski mask.

When you reach for your dayplanner to call some friends and whine, you realize that your dayplanner is gone too. Isn't that nice – some asswipe has the gull to steal your TV and your dayplanner. While you're at home moping, he's out at the pub with your friends.

And let's talk about that dream summer job that turned into a nightmare. You're catering meals on a movie set with a bunch of hyper-sensitive actors who only eat things like alfalfa sprouts and apple butter. Even worse, the cube van that you are forced to drive is sideswiped on the 401, leaving you chasing fruit and vegetables across the freeway.

All of this heartache for less than minimum wage, leaving you desperate for OSAP, which requires you to submit everything but your DNA to the government and wait in an endless, thankless lineup, to receive your entitlement – most of which goes directly into the silk-lined pockets of the administrators of this fine institution.

And it's in that line that some schmuck who lived on your floor in first year and hasn't seen you since, makes the horrible mistake of asking, "So, how was your summer?" At least I'm not bitter.

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