Call me Hilary Duff. Let the rain fall down. I’m coming clean.
This is the second-to-last column in my embattled career writing for The Diamondback. We’ve shared some laughs. We’ve shed some tears. We’ve watched me become borderline unemployable. Next week, I’m going to get sentimental. This week, I’m going to lay all the cards on the table. If you’ve been reading me, I owe it to you — I haven’t been entirely truthful.
So let’s start the confessional, padre. This one goes out to VegTerps: I actually agree with you guys. I think McDonald’s in Stamp Student Union should be ousted. And replaced with a Wendy’s. Delicious.
I wrote a column once wondering why people who participate in intramural sports are so serious. But really, I’m the most serious. You know that annoying guy that goes looking for a chest bump after every play? That was me. I love chest bumps. Sue me. This feels great. I really feel like this is taking a load off my mind.
Last year, I wrote about how students are all lazy class-skippers and corner-cutters. If that wasn’t the definition of hypocrisy, I don’t know what is. I actually feel bad about that one. I don’t have a joke here. I have no idea what possessed me to write that.
I’ve lied. I’ve lied to all of you, and I’m sorry. I’ve been living a lie for two years. I love loud noises. Dane Cook is hilarious to me. I watch Rachael Ray’s 30 Minute Meals every day. “Unstoppable Starts Here” was brilliant. Department of Transportation Services Director David Allen is my personal hero and throughout college has been something of a second father to me.
Am I blowing your mind? Am I everything you never thought I was? I’m not your role model. I’m a sick, troubled individual. I love the Student Government Association. SGA President Steve Glickman is my best friend.
The second column I ever wrote was about how I hate big, sweaty house parties at which no one knows one another. I hate to break it to you, but those were my favorite. Nothing is sacred. You don’t know me.
Chicken Rico was average at best.
Wait — I can’t even joke about that one. Chicken Rico was delicious. I’m sorry. I’ve gotta break character. That restaurant was the best, and what we as a collective base of customers did to them is a crying shame.
I wrote in 2008 that no one should ever read unsolicited advice and then spent 70 or so columns doling out unsolicited advice by the truckload. I wrote in 2009 that it sucks trying to be a “nice guy” in this day and age. You think I’m a nice guy? What a crock.
This past summer, I wrote about how much of a racket textbooks are. And I was right, but I also implied that I’ve bought a textbook in the past two years. All the columns about being a poor student, at least, were true.
I just feel sorry for all the kids and online commenters who looked up to me. I didn’t want to hurt you guys. I just sort of spiraled. One minute I’m talking about how I wish I had air conditioning, and the next I’m nominating myself to be the mayor of College Park. I lied to you. But most of all, I lied to myself.
At least there was one pure thing in all of this: Chicken Rico. That place was the truth.
Rob Gindes is a senior journalism major. He can be reached at gindes at umdbk dot com.
