The Tool Update to End All Tool Updates

I keep trying to write blog entries but I end up wandering away from the computer and forgetting about them. This is bad as I have a bunch of stuff to write about. 

We're going to put Sarah's visit and my visit to Seton Hall University off until Friday (gah, a week late!) because they deserve their own separate entries and they will get lot in the mess if I include them in this entry. And I mean mess. 

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As you all know, I am taking a class at Penn. In this class there are certain people who dress and act like, well, tools. As much as I want to hate them, I am strangely fascinated by them. One of the main reasons for my class attendance is finding out what exactly they're going to wear, and what they are going to say that will make me question humanity. 

The goals of this class aren't exactly clear. Our professor keeps talking about a certain "project" that we have to do in groups, but no one really knows what that is. The general idea seems to be to come up with a redevelopment plan for Camden, NJ or the Kensington section of Philadelphia. Last week we got an e-mail asking us to please form our groups immediately. As I am lazy, I jumped on the first e-mail that followed that from a guy asking for someone to be in his group. Score, took care of that one. The problem was I had no clue who he was, so I couldn't judge him, all that I knew was that his name was Andrew. Deep down I wondered if perhaps he was one of the tools and what sorts of hilarity would come from that.

We e-mailed back and forth a couple of times and decided to meet on Saturday at 2. This was perfect as I was going to be picking up Ch'nel to go to Seton Hall at 4, so I could drive in, do this thing, then head out. As I'm making my way down the Main Line, a route I had chosen so that I could get some iced coffee along the way, I realize that I didn't budget nearly enough time so I called Andrew and told him I would be late. I had just gotten inside the city limits at this point so I was appalled to hear "Yea, I was just calling you actually. Nick, the other guy in our group just called. He's on a train to NYC right now that he didn't realize he would be on...so let's postpone until tomorrow". Dammit. I turned the car around and began cursing this mysterious "Nick" that I was only hearing about now and wondering how he ended up on a train to New York. 

After a delightful night at Seton Hall University for my friend Stacey's 21st birthday, I drove 2 hours back to Philadelphia for our second try at a meeting. I parked my car and ran to the Huntsman building, where we were meeting, and found that unlike the library, I was going to need Nick or Andrew to sign me in. Fair enough, I'm all for adequate security. I called Andrew and asked if he could sign me in, he paused and said "um....yea, I think we can arrange that". What does that mean?!?!? Just sign me in or else we don't do our project! It's not that hard! Once Andrew arrived he found me and introduced himself. Not one of the tools, good. Fairly normal looking guy, a little twitchy, but normal and non-douchey as far as I could tell. We were about to go inside when he said "we have a problem, I lost my ID last night, let me try and call Nick". At this point I noticed his hand was bandaged and that his arm had cuts up to the elbow. I didn't even want to know, so I let that one go. 

After a few moments Nick came into the lobby of the building, or should I say Tool Number 3. I was openly grinning, the blogging possibilities were endless. I was surprised that the tools had chosen to split up, but let it go. After he signed us in he turned to us and said "Chris wants to work with us too, but he's passed out right now. We had quite the night". Oh good, I get both of them. Twitchy guy eagerly nods and says "yea, I had quite the night too". Clearly they both want to tell their stories, I don't take the bait. Nick is obviously angry that we have to meet right now when he could be in bed. I had just driven two hours down the Jersey turnpike and was also angry. Andrew had just woken up and was well rested it would appear, Nick and I both gave him angry looks when he mentioned he had just woken up. I should mention it was 4 in the afternoon. 

We got to the room that one of them had reserved for us to use and found it in use. The occupants left once they realized we had it reserved and Nick smugly said "That guys seems to know me, I don't know who he is though". Look at you, big man on campus. We sit down at separate sides of the table and awkwardly stare at each other for awhile. Andrew gives his idea of building a mixed use development in Camden. I agree just to keep conversation going. Nick shrugs his shoulders because he's cool like that. What next? Silence. Staring. Nick proposes putting a supermarket in our development, Andrew proposes a school, I propose a restaurant. Good, good, look at us go! We all feel pretty proud of ourselves. 

What kind of restaurant should it be? Silence. Racial jokes from the boys that I won't repeat. Long silence as I stare them down. I'm not proud of the fact that I'm usually a doormat when it comes to racist jokes. It's something that I try to speak up about but really often sadly end up letting go. I didn't let this one go. More silence. 

Back on track, we get a general idea of what we want to do and what our next steps will be. We then move on to our homework for the week and start researching Chester, PA and demographics that go along with that. Nick is interested in the fact that they have casinos there. After working in silence for a few minutes Nick declares that we're done. Alright then. We pack up our stuff and head downstairs. Nick again apologizes for cancelling the previous day claiming that the fraternity he is pledging made them go to New York for the night and they only got back on the 6 am train. This is news to me as this means that the guy that looks and dresses like he's 40 is actually a freshman. I decide that I can play their game and say "yea, I understand, I spent last night on a cement floor" (that was covered by a carpet and a deflated air mattress, but shh!). Nick is intrigued, "oh really? why?" He seems satisfied by my explanation of being at another college, that's cool. Andrew can't take it anymore and blurts out "I SPENT LAST NIGHT IN THE EMERGENCY ROOM!" Dammit, I knew I should have gone with jail for my answer. 

Nick and I stop suddenly out of surprise. Unfortunately we are on an escalator so we keep moving. ".....explain" Nick demands. Andrew tells the story of how his friend wouldn't take his hand off of a girls bottom at the bar the night before, even after she asked. So the girl's husband punched him in the face and Andrew had to intervene. Andrew and Nick hi-five. I shake my head and leave. I hate I'm forced into situations where I have to be that "Bryn Mawr Woman" that I hate so much. You know, the one with a social conscience? 

Fast forward to Tuesday where I was jumping with joy at the idea of spending another evening with this pair.  I reach Penn, enjoy my weekly bowl of soup, and settle in for class to begin. Nick and Andrew as well as Chris, who is actually conscious today, arrive and pretend they don't know me. Excellent, I see how it's played. Our professor begins class by addressing the fact that between our midterm, spring break and group meeting last week we haven't actually had class in awhile. "In case you've forgotten, my name is..." he starts as everyone in the room leans forward, desperate to finally learn his name "Hahaha, just kidding, I'm sure you all remember it". There is an audible sigh of discontent. He moves on to discussing our midterms. Unlike Bryn Mawr, where grades and people's answers are not discussed out loud, Penn is all for public discussion of grades and tests. 

Our professor was going over the questions when he suddenly shouted out "Who is my Lawrenceville resident in here?!?!?" After a long pause I tentatively raise my hand. Professor informs me that he enjoyed my response, so I have no reason to be worried. I somehow doubt that. He goes on to explain to the class that "Lawrenceville is an affluent, bucolic, hamlet of Princeton. Home of the prestigious Lawrenceville Academy. One of our nations nicest areas. It also has some lovely restaurants on that little main street of yours, what's it called?" Oh shit. "Umm, we call it...Main Street..." I begin. Over on the other side of the room a girl shouts out "No it's not! It's 206! I'm from Princeton, I know these things". Jesus, is that what I sound like? I hate that girl so much. Luckily the professor ignores her little outburst and continues telling the class what a privileged a-hole I am. That would be great except for the fact that in my answer I discussed how the town is getting around the state mandate that they have low income housing by putting senior citizen homes in my neighborhood. While I by no means live in the projects, if the town has chosen my neighborhood for their low-income housing....I don't think I'm living in the "affuent, bucolic, hamlet of Princeton".

Luckily we quickly move on to another topic during which tool number four makes it known that he's from Wilton, CT. I have now met two people in my life from Wilton, CT. The first was a jackass, that doesn't bode well for the second. Our professor eagerly turns his attention to him and starts ragging on CT. "My college roommate was from Weston, CT, you know" he dreamily remembers "His father always used to get on his horse and go hunting with the hounds. It's just that kind of place, isn't it?" Tool number 4 (Chris) stares blankly for a few moments before responding "We...don't...do that...anymore...". Too late, Chris, you're doomed to a semester of jokes and ridicule. We all are. 

Remember that as tool number 4, Chris was not good at pressure and took to shouting out the first thing that came to his mind (fire truck). This unfortunately led to an explosion later on in class when our professor said "As my friend with the sweater over his shoulders would say..." leading Chris to tear off his fleece vest and shout "THAT'S IT! IT'S A VEST! AND IT'S COMING OFF!". I was worried that he was also going to tear off his Polo oxford shirt and top siders as well so as to make a point. Luckily it didn't come to that. 

After that class took a dramatic turn towards boring as we learned how to properly run a not for profit. Something I do not intend to do as it sounds like a losing battle. Ari and I began checking our watches religiously at around 7:30 to see if we were going to make the train or not. Our hopes were dashed when our professor announced that we were going to have to wait 10 minutes while he recorded our midterm grades in his "book" (it was a notepad). Everyone stood around awkwardly. Across the room I noticed the tools in deep discussion with two other girls. The word project was being thrown around. Then it dawned on me...they're going to ditch me and leave me with Twitchy McBarfight. 

Much to my non-surprise I returned home to an e-mail from both of them explaining that they had decided to go in a different direction. They hoped it wouldn't cause to much of a problem and that we would find another group with ease. While I am positive that my life and project will be better without them in it, I can't help but be pissed that I got project-dumped. Ari thinks this is a good thing as now the professor won't grade our group solely on our living locations (although I am still working with Andrew from Greenwich, CT.  We still have zero street cred in our group). Also this allows for a project war, as we battle each other to best redevelop Camden. It's on, my friends, oh it's on!