The first month of the Fall semester is coming to a close, and students are finally settling into campus. But alas, some are still struggling to get situated, wondering how to get all of their food groups in after dark.
Dear Doolino,
Last night I messed up again and, after partying hard in the ATL, came back to campus to a horrid revelation that I had forgotten to grab dinner. No problem, just go to Kaldi’s and grab a one o’clock meal, right? But alas, it was two o’clock, and Kaldi’s was closed!
Now, I’ll admit that I do like to go ham on the dancefloor, but I also make sure to eat my ham and carrots; my body’s a beautiful temple in which my play-hard soul resides. How am I supposed to get all my macros and micros in when there’s no place on campus to grab some 2 a.m. grub?
My muscles need that protein and those veggies, bro.
Sincerely,
Boppin’ with a Bod
Dear Boppin’ with a Bod,
Seems like you’ve got yourself into a bit of a jamless jam here. When the Eagle Emporium and Kaldi’s close, you’ve only got one on-campus option: the vending machines.
You may think that those $1.25 dispensers aren’t a great deal for a dynamite dieter like yourself, but I can assure you that you can get the Big Five with one big-boy powermove: Lay’s Sour Cream & Onion. Besides its whopping three grams of protein, this pack of potato chips also gives you those high-necessity grains.
That sour cream deals out the dairy and the onion keeps those crisps veggie-verified, but what about fruit? Well, no need to fear, my healthy hombre — Lays has got you covered with the tangy taste of citric acid.
All five food groups in one bag of glory, so get those quarters ready and those George Washington’s straightened, because you’ll be having a 2 a.m. feast every night.
Sincerely,
Doolino
Dear Doolino,
Four months have passed since the new dining facility on campus opened its doors, yet we remain so far from a nomenclature consensus. What are we supposed to call this place?
During my daily stroll across Cox Bridge, I overheard one student simply call it the dining hall, but that’s so boring. My friend Stanley says it’s “the DUC,” but I suggested “Dobbs.” He told me that’s too confusing with Dobbs Hall, but Stan never actually ate at the old shaggy tent!
I have spent many a sleepless night pondering these myriad monikers, contemplating this undiscussed crux. Yet I can’t seem to find a fitting name. My eyelids feel heavy, but not as heavy as this naming burden one of us must bear. Please Doolino, put my mind at rest and tell me what to call this Emory eatery.
Sincerely,
Five Blue Donkey’s a Day
Dear Five Blue Donkey’s a Day,
Fear not, for Doolino will now bestow upon the dining facility its one true name. Neither your nor Stan’s suggestions will suffice; “the DUC” is far too old-school and “Dobbs” is too moldy to compare, so we must seek something more modern.
“The Dobbs Common Table,” however, is too long-winded, and “the Common Table” sounds like a peace conference — which it certainly is not. I am therefore inclined to recommend my favorite variation of that lengthy title: “the Table.” Although an elegant descriptor, the name could lead to some slight miscommunication, for the table has a variety of definitions by the Merriam-Webster dictionary. Since there are numerous examples of "a piece of furniture consisting of a smooth flat slab fixed on legs" in both "the Table" and the greater world surrounding it, one might find this designation rather confusing to explain.
Perhaps we can simply call it “the dining hall” like that one stranger you mentioned. But that is more bland than the DUC’s overcooked chicken, and as such, will simply not go onto my metaphorical plate.
“The DCT” has potential, but having one speak each letter of the unabbreviated original is quite monotonous, so I must recommend that we pay homage to “the DUC” and forego its multisyllabic nature, blurring the letters together into one word: “dict.” It’s a poetically punchy phrase of referral, so a one-word utterance of “DCT” is my final answer.
Sleep well, sleepless student. I have solved the unsolvable.
Sincerely,
Doolino
