Daily Archives: November 10, 2010

A ‘nog’ to a certain holiday drink


I have a new favorite holiday dish. Well, it’s not exactly new. It’s been my favorite for quite a while too. That entire phrase was mostly just for effect.

But I have an old dish I’ve always preferred (see, it sounds way worse that way). This is obviously eggnog, since who in heck cares about any other holiday dish? Turkey comes close to eggnog in the same way our fraternities come close to classy when they wear those nice suits.

For those of you skeptical of eggnog, let’s review the facts for a bit. It’s got less than one percent real eggs in it, having replaced it with artificial flavorings to prevent all of us from dying from salmonella and the more rare nog poisoning. Like every drink the world seems to enjoy, eggnog was utilized primarily as a compliment to alcohol. During the American Revolution, people began to realize that raw eggs mixed with copious amounts of alcohol might be hazardous to their health, switching to a much smoother drink (whiskey). It’s also possible that the whole revolution thing made the Americans miss out on the rum trade. I like my version better.

Anyway, eggnog didn’t really gain popularity again until the post World War II era, when it was discovered that the Soviets didn’t care for the stuff. Patriots all over our grand country bought the stuff with gusto. Drink eggnog people; it’s the American thing to do. Every drink supports the troops. It’s a very similar campaign to all the facebook causes, except without the lies that “liking” the page will conjure up funds and save children’s lives.

I think I was supposed to explain why it’s my new favorite dish. Mainly, it’s delicious. Secondly I found out that my crock-pot can heat up the stuff and make it incredibly delicious. Thirdly, it’s incredibly delicious.

I’m fairly certain the doldrums of November are getting to me. This entire post is just a stream of my own consciousness. Drink eggnog people. It’s delicious.

Matt Olson, columnist
Matt Olson can be reached at linfieldreviewopinion@gmail.com.

Registration: the Antithesis of Relief

Psh, I hate November. Classes go crazy trying to fit everything, everybody gets hyper busy prepping for finals, and it pours. The two major holidays don’t help either; they just give out one more distraction. The killer is class registration since we just weren’t stressed enough. I’m envious of students who somehow manage to survive it without getting ticked off at least once. I seem to have hit a problem every year I’ve been here: professor out of town, didn’t clear my account, webadvisor hates me, or I just lose out on whatever classes I wanted to take.

This one was particularly important for me. You see, next Spring is my last semester here before I graduate. I’m done with my major beyond a seminar class and I wanted to load up on every class I’ve always wanted to take but haven’t had time for. Ceramics, acting, maybe a psych class or two… it just seemed like it’d be great. And all while maintaining my “don’t have class on Fridays” strategy that’s worked since my sophomore year.

Imagine my surprise to find that a new block schedule is in effect. It’ll make everything now that it’s been regimented carefully and intuitively. “Sounds great” I think to myself before jumping online.

Great is the opposite of what it is. Instead of classes shoved into seemingly random times, all classes have been restructured to the exact same time! No seriously, look it up. I might have exaggerated a little. But assuming the class isn’t some pathetic entry level class of fifty minutes, it’ll be an hour and a half on MW or TTH. And about two hundred percent of them start at between the hours of ten and eleven A.M. I guess there are some at eight AM as well. Like anyone wants those classes.

And so literally every class I want falls in mid-morning. I can get two-a MW and TTH- and then I need to start getting creative. All those classes I’ll never could take… Not sure who the block schedule is supposed to help at this point. I hate November.

Matt Olson, columnist
Matt Olson can be reached at linfieldreviewopinion@gmail.com.