Rantics: Getting behind the ‘t-issue’

By DANA MUELLER

It is the small things that matter: the little niceties of life that help myself, as well as others, feel comfortable and alive. When one of these is missing, nothing is the same. I begin to get cranky; I can no longer concentrate on the important aspects of life such as sleeping, or writing pointless columns to cover up for an inadequacy problem that some would say is related to the insufficient number of hugs I received as a child. I still lack hugs, but I am past that now; they are no longer my problem. The flaw now lies in the one place many people feel the safest. Some of us spend most of our better thinking time there, and the problem is always close at hand when you need it the most. What is it?

That is right: toilet paper, bathroom tissue, the ol’ roll of necessity. Call it what you will, its presence is felt throughout the world.

“O my god, this kid is talking about toilet paper, like, that is so, like, mega nasty!”

Sure, let us all pretend it is not an issue, and I should go “get a life.” After all, it will just go away, right? No, it will not, and I know there are people who share my sentiments; I have spoken with them in quiet corners of the University. This topic may very well be taboo, but that is no reason to live a lie, to pretend it is not happening!

The state of Rider toilet paper is horrendous. I am not even sure if it is two-ply! This is a travesty, I attend a Division I institution, and I fear the stall! Whether you are going number two, or you just have to blow your nose, the unrefined texture of Rider TP is a big pain in the arse. If a man or woman cannot feel at ease on the throne, where can he or she turn?

For a short period, I found the answer to this problem: my own private supply of bathroom tissue. I will tell you, those were the good days. Well, they did not last. I got sloppy; I forgot to stock up, and one day, there I was, face to face with an empty roll. I shed a tear, reviewed my options and decided that I could wait. I am still waiting! I will no longer turn the other cheek to this problem, nor will I succumb to the well-meant cries of my dorm mates: “Just use the toilet paper man, stop freakin’ out!”, “It’s not that big a deal! We all use it!”, or the famous “You’ll get used to it.” Will I?

“What will you do—you crazy, raving lunatic—what will you do?”

I will do the only ineffective thing I can: make a plea for the good of the Rider community that a more comfortable and gentler toilet paper be implemented in the dormitory restrooms. I have no idea what the going rate of wholesale toilet paper is, but I am sure it cannot be as expensive as the collective pain that has been absorbed like a fresh milk spill being cleaned by a Bounty quicker-picker-upper paper towel. (Those are adorable commercials.)

By now, your mind is burning with two questions: “What the hell was that?” and “Who allows this kid to write this stuff?” I have the answers to both those questions, and they are as follows: I don’t know, and whoever they are, I doubt they are still employed.

(This column represents nothing, except for my large amount of free time and lack of taste. Thank you for reading.)