I still don't have my U-Pass. For you non-Chicago folks: a U-Pass is what we students get so we can access the El and bus for free. Except it's not really for free because it's in our tuition. But they like to say that it's for free and we like to pretend that it's free, so we just say it's for free. But currently there is a U-Pass shaped hole in my life. I don't know how much I would be using my U-Pass over these days, seeing how I've got business to take care of and a dorm to reinhabit, but it's nice to know that I have the freedom to get off campus if I need to, which I usually do. It's one of those things that makes me feel less trapped.
Note how I referred to it as a "U-Pass" rather than a "UPass" or a "upass." This is because whenever someone neglects to use a hyphen, I read it as "up ass." Which would make the first sentence of that last paragraph, "I still don't have my up ass." And I'm not saying that's not hilarious, but I don't want to lie to you and say that I want an up ass when I really don't. Although it would indeed be true that I have "an up ass sized hole in my life."
I'm going to try to stop thinking about that last sentence.
The people in the dorm next to me sometimes have sex. Sometimes they have loud sex. That's okay with me, aside from the me hearing them thing. So usually when they have loud sex, I turn my speakers up so my music will drown out the sex noises. But today I thought: what if every time that happened, I played the same song? Could I unknowingly create some bizarre psuedo-aroused Pavlovian response to, say, "Build Me Up Buttercup" or "Chaccaron?"
The only things stopping me from doing that are a.) knowing said people personally and appreciating them as human beings and b.) the fear that this strategy would backfire, causing me to associate one of those songs with certain people I know having sex.