It’s Saturday night and I’ve been serving my community all day. The café is closed and I’ve eaten my last TV dinner, now I’m looking weak on my way to Cookout preparing to spend my last 5 dollars because the union is closed. You thought it. Now let’s address it.

I find it utterly deplorable that places that are supposed to provide a safe haven from the ritualistic cafeteria meal are closed on the weekends. What happened to the fact that there are still people here on campus, starving to death because they don’t want to have to pray backwards to the Porcelain God just an hour after they finished indulging? I mean, let’s be real. Your destination after you spend your precious time fellowshipping at the café is undeniably your local toilet seat, getting to know each other a bit more personally than before.

What I find even more disrespectful is the fact that A&T most likely has written somewhere in its “unwritten policies, procedures, and bylaws” that there aren’t enough funds to provide for my unthawed cheddar and broccoli soup at McAlister’s or my toaster oven Pizza Hut pasta, let alone the workers who “slave” behind a register for hours at a time swiping Aggie OneCards and pretending they can’t type in the banner ID number when you left yours.

But A&T has money for homecoming. But A&T has money for the band. But A&T has money from when I was forced to buy that new $150 textbook that I could only sell back for $15. But A&T has money from that pointless parking pass I had to show some skin to buy, but I still can’t find parks. But A&T has money from raising tuition every year, or does that money go to the continuous development of the endless speed-bumps that send my SUV flying on two wheels when I’m only going 5 miles per hour? But, despite all the racks on racks on racks that A&T raises every year on that forgettable strip of grass in front of the ticket office, they cant find it in their hearts to pop one band to feed us quality food on the weekends? Why though?

All I’m saying is, when I end my week of grinding, I would like to have more options than just a laxative formed to look like my favorite home-cooked meal. And if the main entrée is pork I might as well shrivel into a Craisin. We pay the money to keep these establishments up and running, yet we continue to get played because it’s past 8 P.M.

Bottom line. Did you eber really lub me Steebie?

• Anonymous