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The Canada Goose Diaries, Episode 2: Dining Hall Castaway

Back in January, The Black Sheep released the harrowing first entry from the personal diary of Canada Goose® grey winter parka 12221997, made by Canada Goose® Inc. Owned and worn by a freshman throughout Fall 2017, the jacket was subjected to some of the harshest social conditions BU has to offer, completely wiping its memory of the entire semester. Luckily, 12221997 had an affinity for penmanship and recorded its experiences in explicit detail.

In this week’s entry, 12221997 takes us through a fateful evening in West campus dining hall. As always when encountering the harrowing truth, reader discretion is advised.

November 2nd, 2017

5:41 p.m.:

Dear Diary,

Crap. We just got out of class and her stomach started rumbling. I don’t know if you speak stomach, but I do. It said something along the lines of “get some food in me before I make you flip out on your unsuspecting roommate from hanger.” She’s been talking nonstop about how stressed she is, so maybe a trip to the dining hall isn’t in order…

6:12 p.m.:

No Raising Cane’s tonight, apparently. Or Blaze pizza, or UBurger, or Chipotle, or Otto, or Star Market. She stopped in front of every single place and decided not to go in! Where’s Extreme Pita when you need it? Great, there goes her stomach again! Pretty sure those grumbles registered on the Richter scale…jeez, just make up your damn mind already! Even the dining hall is looking like an OK option at this point…wait, did I just say that out loud???

6:22 p.m.:

In line for the dining hall. Anyone else find it ridiculous that we have to wait our turn to get in like some kind of twisted human Spotify queue? You don’t have to be a $950 jacket to know that the food isn’t worth it. I’m sincerely wondering why she didn’t decide to get four more of me instead of a dining plan in the first place.

6:27 p.m.:

We finally get to the swipe register thingy, and of course, she’s out of swipes for the week. She’s even out of guest swipes from when her moronic friend visited from Wellesley…damn you, Becky! Eventually some dude in line offered us one of his swipes… I suppose chivalry isn’t totally dead.

6:34 p.m.:

Even though we’re inside, we’re somehow waiting in another long line. Why does everyone want falafel tonight? Oh wait, it must be because every other station might as well be serving peacock s*** souffle! For God’s sake, people are even waiting in a line to get a Sriracha bottle… what are we in, a Kafka novel?

6:49 p.m.:

Finally, a seat! Well, if we’re getting specific, she’s taken me off and thrown me underneath the table of the booth that she’s sitting in. It seats at least six people, yet somehow she thinks it’s normal to sit there alone. More space for me, I suppose.

6:58 p.m.:

Finishing her “dinner” food in less than ten minutes, it seems that she’s now opted for breakfast. A bowl of Lucky Charms followed by half a Belgian waffle (the other half fell on the floor in transit). I’ve never understood this breakfast-for-dinner-but-also-dessert phenomenon.

7:07 p.m.:

Based on the massive amount of homework she was bitching about earlier today, one would think she’d get right to it after she finishes eating. But that’s not how procrastination works, does it? Now I can only helplessly watch as she disappears down a rabbit hole deep scrolling on the BU meme group. There’s no way that I can break her from this trance! All I can do is wait…

9:00 p.m.:

Thankfully, a dining hall employee has poked her awake to close up for the night. She’s going to put away her dishes… she’ll come back to get me before she leaves. I can’t wait to be home in my closet!

9:31 p.m.:

I’m beginning to see that once again she has forgotten me. For the last half hour I’ve done nothing but cry out for help, but the maintenance crew’s vacuum cleaners have drowned my screams out. This place of jubilation and socializing over mediocre food has now become my desolate, silent tomb. Things feel nothing but grim, but I must remain vigilant. I can’t go on… but I must go on… because that’s what a Canada Goose® does…

Thus ends another gripping tale from Canada Goose 12221997. If there’s anything to learn from this traumatic account, it’s to always look out for your coat, and never, ever let Becky use all your guest swipes.

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