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<td width="343" valign="bottom"><p class="date"><a href="default.html">4/19/04 • Vol.
128, No. 33</a></p></td>
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<td align="left" valign="top"><a href="window.jsp">Simulated sex and
real disgust outside The Collegian window</a></td>
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<h1><font size="5">Simulated sex and real disgust outside The Collegian
window</font></h1>
<p class="byline"> </p>
<p class="byline"> </p>
<p class="byline">Simpler Text</p>
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<td><p><a href="Collegiangawkers.jpg"><img src="Collegiangawkers.jpg" alt="" name="Photo" width="284" height="215" border="0" style=""></a></p>
<p align="justify"><strong><em>-Art by John Rios</em></strong></p>
</td>
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</table> <p class="byline">By Joshua D. Scroggin</p>
<p class="storyText">They kissed quietly. Wrapping their arms around each
other and grabbing fistfuls of butt cheek, they ground their hips in
a circular motion.</p>
<p class="storyText"> Doing something similar to a full-body dolphin kick,
the two banged crotches while their tongues seemed to be engaged in World
War III.</p>
<p class="storyText"> “
Are you watching this?” someone said in disbelief.</p> <p class="storyText"> I looked up just in time to see a naughty hand creep
down into a denim miniskirt—less than five feet away from my face.</p>
<p class="storyText"> “
Oh my god,” someone else screamed. “Eeeeeewwwwwww!”</p>
<p class="storyText"> I was sitting at my desk, and right outside my mirrored
window, a singular body mass I thought to be a man and a woman was engaged
in a public display
of affection raunchy enough to be filmed and sold in the 10 p.m. slot
on channel 78. </p>
<p class="storyText"> Someone should have called the cops.</p>
<p class="storyText"> I scrambled to my feet, ran around my desk and sloshed
my face into the window, spreading the blinds with my fingers to get
an unobstructed view.</p>
<p class="storyText"> What I saw nearly made me puke.</p>
<p class="storyText"> The passionate man and the woman outside turned out
to be two kids—neither
could have been older than 16 or 17. I could feel the bile creeping incrementally
up my esophagus like mercury in a thermometer on a hot summer day. </p> <p class="storyText"> The boy looked like the kind of once-a-month shaver
we all were back in 10th grade.</p>
<p class="storyText"> The girl was wearing the skirt and what one might
say was a tight, revealing shirt—that is if she had anything to reveal.</p>
<p class="storyText"> As portions of the office continued to whoop it up
at the obscenity, I sat back down, visibly disgusted.</p>
<p class="storyText"> Who were these kids? Why were they outside my window?
Did I just see what I thought I saw?</p>
<p class="storyText"> It’s a good thing nobody did call the cops. They’d have taken
all of us away in the paddy wagon—for watching child porn.</p>
<p class="storyText"> I don’t know where these kids came from, and I don’t want
to know. I just want them away from my window. </p>
<p class="storyText"> They could have just been some random kids on a tour
of the campus, but if the source was University High School, this is
a slightly more offensive
problem than the long lunch lines in the Student Union. </p>
<p class="storyText"> Now, I know kids will be kids, and I’m not offended that the make-outs
are going on, but it should be going on in the amphitheater, conveniently
out of view. They shouldn’t be bringing it out in the open.</p>
<p class="storyText"> One theory proposed to explain the phenomenon offered
the deforestation of the underage neckers’ natural habitat—the area behind
The Collegian’s office—for their migration into open areas.
There used to be tall shrubbery there, and now there is not.</p>
<p class="storyText"> As it was explained to me, it’s sort of like when the spotted owls
were roosting in the K-Mart signs. They had nowhere else to go.</p>
<p class="storyText"> I’m proposing a solution to make sure these kids stop roosting
outside my window. </p>
<p class="storyText"> What can I say? I’m a problem solver.</p> <p class="storyText"> Someone should turn their weird high school environment
into a more normal one.</p>
<p class="storyText"> Build them some bleachers or an equipment shed. They’d feel more
comfortable underneath or behind structures like that.</p>
<p class="storyText"> It’s bad enough they’re forced to practice music all day
then play volleyball. They have to be cooped up in that small corner
of campus. We should provide them with a proper place to get down and
dirty before some weirdo catches them on camera and sells it on eBay.</p>
<p class="storyText"> —
This columnist can be reached at collegian@csufresno.edu</p> <p class="byline"> </p></td>
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