Agnes Scott College - Silhouette Yearbook (Decatur, GA)

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I Thinh It ' s Out To Get fTlE A. THERE ' S JUST NOTHING LIKE GOOD HOT TOAST B. THIS IS OUR LATEST MODEL — IT COPYS AND COALATES WHILE-U-WAIT. Women Versus Machine imagine a typical day at good oie Agnes: You ' re all out of clean underwear, you ' re late getting ready for a date, and you ' re down to your last twenty-five cents. The washing machine either a) Steals your quarter b) Gets tired and breaks right before the rinse cycle. If some of us do accomplish getting our laundry done, we are only to be thwarted in the dining hall or at the Xerox machine. Having managed to scrape most of the burnt crumbs from the toast, or to wipe about 750 of the lOCX) islands from our sleeve, we stroll liesurely to the library to copy some notes, only to discover that a) The Xerox machine is jammed, broken, or in the process of repair b) Out of paper Having been thoroughly frustrated, we decide to get a Coke to calm our nerves. Obligingly the Coke ma- chine a) is out of Coke b) is hot-tempered and decides to warm our drink up for us c) needs a small loan Will it never end? we ask ourselves in frustration. As we slide our modern and convenient key-cards through the lock on our dorm doors for the seventh time without result, the future does indeed appear bleak. Perhaps a nice cup of tea would help our depres- sion. Finally in the dorm, it will only take a minute to boil a hot pot of water. Well, that was easily enough done, but we are either a) delayed in the lobby to watch the last few minutes of The Guiding Light b) stuck in an elevator that can ' t make up its mind whether business is looking up or down In any case, we get back to our trusty hot pot just in time to keep it from exploding. About to explode ourselves, we decide the best thing to do would be to simply crawl into bed and take a nap. Now where ' s that pillow? ... NOW I KNOW THAT SOCK IS IN HERE SOME- WHERE ... HAVE YOU EVER BEEN REALLY WRAPPED UP IN A PAPER?

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GDE TO 4 PQPGGRN PQPPER (With apologies to John Keats) Thou unacclaimed bride of golden corn, Thou foster child of a junk food generation Social historians either praise or mourn A custom so beloved by our nation. What electrical legend haunts about thy shape Of Scientists or after-work inventors Who strove thy noble purpose to ordain; Who sought more efficient production of thy fuel. What mad pursuit? What struggle to create? Yet when they their strivings won, what ecstasyl Heard melodies are sweet, but thy small pops Are sweeter therefore, ye popper, pop on; Not only to mine ear, but even more. Play to the stomach ditties that rumble low. Fair popper, upon the floor, thou canst not leave Thy song, no radio or record can thee replace. Bold popper, never, sadly, canst thou taste Though popping brings thee close, yet do not grieve Thy value is unmeasured) thy purpose clear: Forever shalt thou pop, and corn be there. And, happy melodist, unwearied Forever popping corn forever sweet; More tasty corn! More snow-white, crunchy corn! Forever warm and still to be enjoyed Forever salty, crisp, forever good. Who are these coming to the popping corn? To what bright room, O mysterious priest Leadst thou these girls sniffing at the air. All in warm sweats and pajamas dressed? What other rooms by stairwell or phone ' s ring Or bathroom ' s constant running water noise Are emptied of their folk this chilly eve? And, sprawling dorm, thy halls forevermore Shall silent be, and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate — mouths being filled with lucious corn, O rounded shape! Dome lid and shallow pan! With slender cord attached to thy side. With hard, raised plastic thy cover spells thy name. With chrome thy sturdy base thy workings hide. Thou cheery form: thou priceless study guide When old age shall college memories fade Thou shalt remain amidst our other lives And with thee to, a shadow of the friends Then made and cherished still; with thee And them we learned all we ' d ever need to know. a

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f tioord t o It ' s early morning and you ' re having the strangest dream: it sounds almost as if a train is thundering by right through your room. The whistle blows urgently, the windows shake and rattle, with a start, you wake up and realize that it ' s only the faithful 5:00 am Express making its usual peaceful run through Decatur. But whoever thought of building a college right next to the railroad tracks ought to be shotl As you drift back to sleep, the thought occurs that you didn ' t set your alarm. No matter. About 6:00 the radiator clanks, crashes into life, leaving you to plead defenselessly for quiet — never mind the cold. The remain- ing hour that might have been used most profitably for sleep is disrupted by alarms of all beeps and whistles, and by radio announcers and music of all descriptions, though Z-93 ' s Gary McKee does seem to echo over all the rest. By now, of course, you have the squishing of flip-flops to and from the shower, the ear-piercing screeches of water faucets and cries of, OUCH! Yell ' Hot Water! ' next time.! as well as the squeaking of the hall door being open and shut on the way to class or breakfast. As you can tell, anyone who has lived at Agnes Scott comes to expect bizarre, unexpected, and irritating sounds. Take the quarterly fire drill for example. (No, Marcia, that is not your alarm!) No amount of donuts from Krispy Kreme can remedy the irreparable heart damage done by the dread- ed wail of that horn. Then there are the hall phones that ring incessantly, (strange that with a hall full of girls there is no one home to answer); there are the constant sirens, (How many emergen- cies can greater Decatur have in one day?) Then of course there are the chimes signalling the end of a long night ' s study in the library, (Did you ever fall asleep and Greetings from your hard-working, early-rising friends in the Physical Plant. Calisthenics are at 7:00. Our busy metropolis — just passing through.