Dear Doolino,
I’m 80% sure someone stole my pants from the laundry … What do I do?
From,
Pantless Patty
Dear Pantless Patty,
Greetings from the laundry room. In my last column, I asked Emory University students to bring me something more entertaining than a typical failed college romance and lackluster love life. Over the past two dreadful months, I returned to my gravestone to avoid the stupidly cold weather and await another request for my centuries-old wisdom. Although I was pretty lonely six feet under, watching silly packs of freshmen in their puffer jackets stumble around in the wind has warmed my spirit.
Over winter break, I grew tremendously bored without any students at which to jeer. And what did I return to? Once again, you students have disappointed me with your extreme ineptitude. As someone who forgoes pants (my slim hips won’t allow it), I understand the benefits of going bare, but I would also rather return to the revolting Dobbs Common Table for dinner than be forced to look at half-naked 20-somethings. As Valentine’s Day nears and a new Marriage Pact opens, you all get even thirstier, somehow. It begs the question: Did someone steal your pants simply to alleviate their erotic desires?
Look, Patty, perhaps the thief wanted your pants for sorority rush. They are in adoration of your mortal style. Or, of course, they needed them to layer up and brave the cold when forced to endure the cacophonous laughs of wannabe-sorority girls during rush. In that case, I decree that stealing pants is forgiven, but the sanctity of their soul is in question. Well, at least you all have your #sisters.
Consider the benefits of this situation. Trying a new wardrobe ensemble could be a great way to glow up for the new semester. Satan knows you need it. Personally, I have found a cape and top hat to suffice, but I do not know if you could pull it off, Patty. It is a convenient choice as you trudge across Asbury Circle for your 8:30 a.m. class, however. Back in my skin days, I was quite fond of leather pants, but for you lustful lads, sweaty loins may make the pants hard to shimmy on. With my milk-enhanced bones, I could show you all how to really rock leather pants.
I am skeptical to give advice, considering that you are only 80% sure that someone stole your pants. But, if I absolutely had to blame someone, it would be the Oxford continuees. They are used to a different culture in Covington; perhaps it includes kidnapping clothes. The best suggestion I will give you is to make sure everyone else in Raoul Hall feels the same pain you do now. Throw everyone’s wet laundry over the top of the machines, plain and simple. Make sure to throw some of the lost and found back there, too! If you want to make it burn more, take a handful of lint from those dusty machines and add it to the mix. Remember: Raoulians deserve it. They stole your pants … Well, at least, we think they stole your pants.
Alternatively, seek grace and forgiveness, and be one of the other five students in Raoul who choose the high road. Keep in mind that the campus bookstore is open, and you can always purchase an overpriced pair of pants there to represent me — just avoid anything with that ridiculous bird Swoop. We all know who the real Emory mascot is. Doolino knows best, so be sure to take my recommendations, whichever path you may choose. Bring it on Emory students. I can’t wait to see what havoc you wreak this semester.
Doolino resides in Atlanta. | Doolino’s origins are yet to be discovered.
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