Its the Little Things... like a can of spray paint

Walking around a college campus everyday gets a bit monotonous. I mean, same route (the quickest one), same tree, same building, hell same squirrel (who is way too tame), same spray paint stencil... Hold up... Nope that is new, and entirely improved. Laramie doesn't really have hard core taggers. In fact if I said taggers people would probably start talking to me about killing some animal until I said admitted I was a vegetarian. Additionally, Laramie has zero murals (I guess a town of predominately white people has nothing cool to paint on the sides of buildings). Anyway, seeing this simple spray paint stencil kind of, sort of, really made my day.

The first stencil I saw was a little cartoonish cat that said "Halp" under it. I though to myself, "finally memes have made it to the street!" Adorable, no real message and simple... in a day filled with biochemistry and integrative physiology this is exactly what I wanted to see walking into the classroom building.

Then walking home I noticed a one of those large gray fuse boxes not completely covered in "lost cat" or "giant poster sale" posters. Instead, a Raccoon Mario was spray paint stenciled on it. I smiled and crossed the street. So far no one has covered that fuse box with tons of neon paper. This second piece of guerilla art had officially made my day.

A couple days later I noticed one more stencil. By far the coolest one. The stencil is of a woman; it looks like she is wearing a straight jacket (but not tightened). By far it is the most intricate, and also the one that most reminds me of home.

I still do not know who the guerilla artist is, and I might not ever. People may argue it is vandalism. However, in Laramie random art doesn't exist, and really I do not need to see anymore magenta paper telling me about a club meeting. Seeing the random Mario puts 8 bit music in my head, and the meme on the sidewalk is like an inside joke, but really the sleek woman reminds me of the city.

The picture above is courtesy of the lovely Sarah Quesada.

Dear God I am in the college of agriculture with old people...

I have no problem with people older than me. Usually... Well as long as I don't have to interact with them... Or listen to them ask questions... Or give PowerPoint presentations that were poorly prepared... Or sit next to them while they suck on their dentures....

Good thing I was going to a conference called Food Safety, Security, and Sources: A Recipe for Tough Times, on a college campus. Also it was free for students. Win win, I imagined.

Day one of the conference. I arrive, wearing a cute outfit I planned the night before, to watch some lawyer woman go over her time limit telling me about her food blog. A blog she described as being her version of clipping newspaper articles about food. Actually she was a tax lawyer, so she knew little to nothing (minus the little) about food issues. To make it worse, she wore a nasty long black skirt, wore a giant scrunchie, and a t shirt. Why do successful women feel they can just give up looking nice?! I mean she is standing in front of 100 people, talking, she couldn't find a blouse or do her hair? But I digress, that is entire other blog...

I go to a session and an older woman sits next to me. No, wait she practically sits on top of me, and elbows me as she eats a fruit cup. Did I mention she is the woman who is leading the conference? No? Well she is, and she is chewing with her mouth open. She then proceeds to suck on her dentures, really loud. It was the sound when you get your foot suck in mud and pull it out. bla bla bla, sorry that was me vomiting. Then after the presentation, every person over the age of 50 has a question. Even if it has no relevance or actually isn't a question, they raise their hands. Why aren't these people at work? Probably non trads. One man complained to a presenter about having to walk around the entire grocery store to find his special diabetic foods. He complained about having to walk through a grocery store to find his food items...

The next day I go on a tour. A five hour tour of agriculture in Laramie. First stop is the student farm. The students on the tour quietly follow along; praying that if no one asks questions maybe the tour will only be four and a half hours. The older people on the tour have different plans. This one woman has to ask an obscure question about farming to each tour guide, just to show that she knows more about organic farming or some other crap. Another man walked in the front of the group and farted audibly for the whole farm tour. Allow me to repeat... He farted, we could hear it, and still walked right in front for an entire tour...

Next stop is a meat plant. I wish, oh how I wish, that was an intro for terrible porn. No luck, this actually is a place on campus where they slaughter animals, as a class… Let that soak in…. Never have I heard the word eviscerate so many times. If it was a drinking game, I'd have been trashed. Again, the old people loved this. Not only was I disturbed by the smell, cold, and general fear of accidentally turning on a saw, but also there was a little grandma asking about bleeding a pig. Really. Or a man talking about scrambling a cow's brain with something that looks like the weapon in No Country for Old Men. I was suddenly in No Country for Young City Dwelling Girls.

I learned an important lesson though. First, people in Wyoming completely live to the stereotypes. If you find a person (preferably 50 or older) from Wyoming ask about bleeding a cow or a hoop house, they will understand. Second, at some point as we age we loose tact, the ability to dress for an occasion, and the sense that people are glaring at you.