Machines and Electrical boxes, Talk to me.

Construction workers have been adding on to the Trafton building since Bean and I were on Spring Break last March, and I don't think any of their work will ever be conclusive. Olsen and I were walking out in 20 degrees of freezing rain and snow, from the cheapest parking lot on campus this morning, and while we were walking, we found ourselves making observatory statements. Well, at least he was, while I was making masturbatory statements.

See, he thinks that the workers are merely ordering supplies to fit their desires instead of adhering to the blueprints. I don't think they have any blueprints anymore. I think they lost the building plans and the structural layouts; I think they're sucking money out of week-to-week paychecks and adding on to the building until President Davenport decides that he likes what they've done, or until they decide they're done.

This kind of hypothesis could be proven correct and accepted by the community of MSU students if Trafton weren't a science building, but, instead a Liberal Arts building. However, when looking at the building's exterior, they progressively lay out the walls so that they look complete and then add further out. The whole mess seems to puzzle me, because at one point in the fall I looked at the of the building and noticed they had attached what looks like the steam pipes from a large ship one of the workers found in the Pacific ocean, ported and polished them, and conned the foreman into utilizing them. If there is a foreman. I realize what I'm saying sounds stupid, but it looks even worse.

Oh, the buildings on campus I've never been in and likely won't ever have to.

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On a much smaller scale subject, I have exactly two shifts left at the Pizza place, as a manager, then my step-down is official. However, the only reason I'm staying on the payroll is to reap the benefit of 50% off any time I want a greasy, flavorless pizza or any other menu item (wings excluded), and back to the hustle of a dull restaurant. It's not that I need the money, but that the coffee's free and it's something better to do on a Sunday morning than lay in bed mildly hungover watching reruns of Barefoot Contessa because I can't find the remote.