Do you want fries with that?

I have become the concierge for the unharvard.

CP is tied up this week, and I’ve taken over some of his chores, and I now know why he is a wreck of a human being. Virtually all of the issues that have come up have been small, but it’s like playing Whack-A-Coach. My favorite concerns the miracle of the cheese steaks. Apparently UPenn brings in cheese steaks for lunch on Saturday, a fine tradition given its location. Originally there were about 39 cheese steak options on tabroom. The unharvardians decided that this was too many (I can’t imagine why) and have now limited the choices to two. I’ve never tinkered with concessions before on tabroom, but eventually I made the change.

But here’s the thing. The two choices are cheese steak with cheese, or cheese steak without cheese. Am I missing something here? “I’ll have the fried rice.” “Will that be with or without rice?” What?

A more important concern for the VCA, and one which a couple of people have already heard about in great disbelief, is the March on Orlando this summer. Those who know us (you poor saps) know that O’C and I can spend the entire day listening to the soundtracks of extinct Epcot attractions. Driving in the car with us is almost frightening as we go through my playlist of Disney songs you’ve never heard or now wish you’d never heard (we almost managed to convince the Panivore to quit debate last year during our Bobcat commutes, which in a way is like ordering a cheese steak without the cheese or the steak). Somewhere in all of this we opined how we definitely needed to go to WDW together someday to get this all out of our systems. And then somewhere in all of this opining we decided to do it this summer. And while we were at it, we invited a bunch of other family and friends, if they were interested (although the numbers aren’t yet in on who else is crazy enough to be coming). Not since the Old Baudleroo fell in love with the Disneyland parking lot has there been such a potential for pure…something. I’ve already planned practically ever minute of the event (those who go to WDW without a plan to avoid the lines deserve their hour-long waits) on a listserver of the potential attendees. O’C has already decided what outfit he’s wearing the day he gets Cinderella’s autograph (which is a big bone of contention between us, because I maintain, first, that Cinderella is not a real person, and second, that even if she were real, this isn’t her—I have a lot of trouble with the roaming characters in the parks, in other words). As time goes by I will now bring the VCA into our planning. You may not be coming with us, but you’ll suffer through it as if you were.

Have a #(*&$%^@ magical day.