Hey, Aroy Thai, why haven’t you opened yet? WE WANT THAI FOOD

Aroy Thai was set to be the newest addition to the city’s growing number of dining options.

The College Avenue restaurant opened at least two weeks ago, but all signs — apart from the one fixed to the storefront — indicate it did not stay that way.

The display cases next to the register are filled with soda; the hours are taped to the door and mock-ups of dishes are on display in the window. Everything seems ready, but its doors have remained locked and calls to the establishment have gone unanswered.

Barking Dog expected crowd of 500 for Dom Mazzetti event, only 50 showed up

Dom Mazzetti is accomplished for a college super senior. He has a passion for girls, partying and working out, an accent reminiscent of Jersey Shore, and more than 25 million views total on YouTube and more than 76,000 likes on Facebook.

In celebration of Cinco Dom Mayo, I mean de Mayo, The Barking Dog brought this Internet phenom to Route 1.

Because the bar’s managers expected 500 people to crowd the Barking Dog on Saturday, they hired three extra security hands for the night — only 50 people showed up.

“It was embarrassingly small,” said senior economics major Bret Greer. “You would think for Cinco de Mayo, more people would be out.”

Campus Complainer: SGA candidates really need a moon bounce

Just a thought, guys.

Ah, election season. One of my favorite times of year. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping and mud is being slung through the air. We’re not talking the presidental election, people, it’s time for Student Government Association elections.

Why do I love them? Well (this is going to floor you), I actually hate them. I can’t stand the endless bombardment from candidates during the election cycle. The fliers, the emails, pitches during class — all of it.

I don’t care about your inconsequential platform you’re running on. I’d guess that neither does 70 percent of the student population. So, please stop shoving your platform down my throat. In fact, I’d rather you put an actual wooden platform through a woodchipper and sprinkle the wood chips on my tuna sandwiches (and I love my tuna sandwiches) than have to listen to a candidate drone on about how they’re going to increase the number of Inuits at our school.

Diversity as a platform? Really? It’s important in the grand scheme of things, but if you’re trying to get students to vote, that’s a surefire way to put them to sleep and to spread the apathy. You want to pull people out to vote and get your point across? Two words: moon bounce.

The truth about YOLO

“You only live once, that’s the motto, n—- — YOLO.” That line from the popular rap song “The Motto” by Drake is the motto of this generation. It also happens to be the best excuse to do all the things common sense tells you not to do. All you have to do is call out “YOLO” right before you do it, and everything will be OK. We know this because Drake signed a contract reassuring your well-being and taking all financial responsibility for your hospital bills.

If you’re going to do something stupid for the sake of YOLO, you need to post it on a social networking site. Otherwise, it’s just seen as you being stupid. You need to yell out “YOLO” so other people can hear it, or it doesn’t count. Try doing something dangerous and call out “YOLO” when no one else is around. It just won’t feel the same. It’s like the age-old question, “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” If you yell “YOLO” and jump from a tree in the forest with no one around to hear it, your doctor will know by the x-rays that you made a sound — the sound of your leg snapping in half, not “YOLO.”

Campus Complainer: Art Attack and meter maids

For this week’s installment of Campus Complainer, I had some wrath reserved for the whiners polluting the Art Attack Facebook event. Now that I’ve got bigger fish to fry, I’ll keep it brief. Quit your bellyaching over B.oB. You don’t like him? I’ve got a simple solution for you: Get hammered before. Drink a bunch of beers and BOOM! Then you won’t care who’s on stage. You’d probably dance to Dr. Z singing Nickelback all night anyways. Problem solved.

On to the real issue at hand: the city of College Park. Most of the time, I’m a big fan of College Park, but yesterday my tides turned.

Campus Complainer: There are worse things than secondhand smoke

I was strolling along McKeldin Mall the other day between classes and plopped down in front of the library to talk on the phone. Outside of McKeldin is a popular spot to stop for a cigarette. Students and professors alike congregate just outside of its doors to literally blow off smoke before diving into the books.

As I sat, I noticed a common occurrence: Multiple passersby doing the loud, over exaggerated fake cough. It happened once and I paid no mind. Twice and my ears perked up. When it didn’t stop, I was shocked.

 

Campus complainer: Calm down, guys. They’re just pretzels

 

When I was a tyke, often times my weekdays were spent at the mall with my mom, waddling around behind her as she browsed the shops  — long enough to be completely bored, but not so long that she’d miss Oprah at 4 p.m.

The one thing that could always keep me smiling and satisfied on one of our excursions (Outside of a new Street Shark action figure) was a cinnamon pretzel from Auntie Anne’s. Oh, they were glorious. All that greasy and cinnamon-y goodness was a delicious distraction from the horrors of extended stays inside department stores. It was my own little escape.

As the years progressed and my mind developed, Auntie Anne’s and I grew apart. Partially because I was no longer dragged to the mall against my will and also because, well, they’re just pretzels.

I’ll say it again: They’re just pretzels.

And because they’re just pretzels, I was shocked at the crushing hype I heard in the time leading up to Auntie Anne’s grand opening in Stamp Student Union. The hype hasn’t diminished, either. There’s always a line and people can’t stop raving about these things.

According to a Jan. 31 article in The Diamondback, the shop was averaging 600 pretzels a day just 11 days after it opened. 600 pretzels a day? Students are shelling out more than $3 for a bit of dough? A sprinkling of cinnamon? That’s insane.

While I may not be a man of refined tastes, my taste buds have grown since my days as a youngster at the mall. A pretzel is a fine snack every once and a while and hard pretzels compliment a sandwich well. But a pretzel as a whole meal? You’ve got to be kidding, especially when Stamp is packed with actual food.

The kind of people that roll up to Stamp to grab lunch and consistently end up with a raisin pretzel probably have the same diet as a 7-year-old. These people are the kind of folk who you could sit down in front of a freshly made plate of chicken pomodoro, piping hot and homemade, and they would push it away. Why? Because they want buttered noodles. Offer them steak and mashed potatoes? Forget about it; they want chicken tenders.

A group of simpletons is what we’re dealing with here.

These simpletons will probably get defensively about there beloved pretzels. They’ll probably whine and ask, “Ooohh, but they have way more than just pretzels! Have you ever tried a pretzel dog? That’s not just a pretzel!”

Yes, it’s not just a pretzel. You got me there. It’s not just a pretzel, rather, it’s a combination of two mediocre foods not deserving of any hype or huge business that it’s received. It’s also something a 7-year-old would gladly have instead of sushi.

So, go on, pretzel lovers. Have your pretzels. Eat them all day, everyday, because you’ll soon tire of them and realize they are in fact just pretzels. When that happens, meet me down at Subway.

— Taylor Schwink is a senior journalism major and student blogger for The Diamondback

 

 

 

The troubles of being named Dean on a college campus and not actually being a dean

Most Honors College students instantly recognize the name Dean Hebert — after all, they read it in their inboxes each morning in a message detailing the day’s events.

But in the world of academia — where titles like professor, doctor, TA, provost and vice president are used constantly — the Honors College assistant director is quick to make one thing clear: He’s not a dean. That’s just his name.

Hebert is known for including a line at the end of every email to the college listserv: “dean is just my first name; aka ‘dean of destruction.’” The message, he said, attempts to clear up the messy situation of sharing a name with one of the highest-ranking titles in the university.

Hebert said he started adding the disclaimer after parents at student orientations would mistake him for a college dean.

“I tell them right off the bat that it’s just my name, and that sort of evolved,” he said.
Some students have also announced to the Honors College receptionist that they have an appointment with “the dean.” And Hebert said he has a hunch lines get crossed over the phone, too.

“Sometimes when I call a department, I say, ‘Oh, this is Dean over at the Honors College,’ and my call gets put straight through,” he said.

“I haven’t done any scientific studies on it, no double-blind test,” Hebert added. “But I’ve always suspected that every once in a while, someone will hear the name and say, ‘Oh, he must be the dean, he must be somebody important over there.’”

Hebert wasn’t the only member of the university community to face some identity crisis. Dean Chang, director of Maryland Technology Enterprise Institute Venture Programs and the Technology Advancement Program, said when students confuse him for an academic dean, he admits he’s just “lowly staff.”

But, Chang said, one offender in particular stands out — Gov. Martin O’Malley made the mistake twice.
O’Malley visited the campus in 2007 and was met at the door of MTECH by Chang, Mtech Executive Director David Barbe and then-interim Engineering school Dean Herbert Rabin. They introduced themselves, gave O’Malley a tour of the center, and then sat in on a press conference.

“[O’Malley’s] talking to reporters and there’s local news cameras, and he said, ‘I was just talking to the dean,’ and he gestured to me,” Chang said. “The actual dean was on the other side of the room. I was like ‘Oh no.’”

He added he quickly realized O’Malley might be thinking Chang was arrogant for saying his position instead of first and last name alone, as Barbe and Rabin had.

“It was embarrassing,” Chang said. “He was probably was just thinking, ‘Why does this third person feel the need to use his title?’”

Chang had the opportunity to correct O’Malley a year and a half ago when the two met again at a technology advancement conference.

Alumnus Dominic Watkins isn’t even a Dean — the name, this time — but he said he’s often mistaken for one as well. I know because I did it myself when I attempted to send a message to Dean Watkins, assistant director of the Office of Information Technology.

In an email, Dominic Watkins wrote, “I share a last name (Watkins) with one of the Deans at CP and I receive this persons emails all the time.”

— Rebecca Lurye

General Assembly shelves bag tax bill; SGA spends 20 minutes debating it anyway

Wednesday night, the SGA threw its support behind a county-wide 5-cent plastic bag tax that had already died in the General Assembly earlier that day.

The body spent more than 20 minutes — the greatest debate of the night — discussing the tax, ultimately voting 10-4 in favor of a county implementation that many Student Government Association members passionately argued would better the environment. However, the vote may not mean as much in Annapolis, where the Prince George’s House delegation voted to shelve the bill hours earlier.

Robert DiMauro, the SGA bill’s sponsor, said he was aware the county legislation had failed Wednesday, noting there was “a lot of back and forth” between himself and Senior Vice President Matthew Popkin on whether to continue with the scheduled vote.

“A lot of things were transpiring as the meeting was going on,” DiMauro said. “I think it worked out in the end. There wasn’t any harm going over it that night. I think it’s still important for us to have a stance on this issue.”

The bill can still be revived. The House delegation can consider the issue two more times, the entire county delegation can vote on the bill even without the sub-committee’s endorsement. The bill needs at least 12 of the 23 county delegation votes to go in effect.

Next week, legislators will vote on the proposed Community Cleanup and Greening Act of 2012, which would place a statewide — rather than county-wide — additional charge on bags.

“This is not a dead issue,” Popkin said last night.

— Lauren Redding

University professor accused of impersonating that guy from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

Business school students probably recognize business professor Peter Morici by his dated bow ties and large wire-framed glasses. He even graced cable TV over the summer as a spokesman for Kyocera-brand copy machines and printers, sporting his signature look.
But unfortunately for Kyocera, the economist’s fashion flair provoked the wrath of Ben Stein, the monotone  economics teacher from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Stein — whose slew of other credits include America’s Most Smartest Model, Game Show Moments Gone Bananas and Clear Eyes commercials — sued Kyocera earlier this month, alleging the “impersonation” breached his own contract with the company and caused emotional distress, according to Reuters. Stein apparently alleged that Kyocera executives replaced him in the ad because of his views on global warming.

According to his university biography, Morici directed the U.S. International Trade Commission’s  Office of Economics and penned 18 books and monographs — scholarly articles on a single topic, in wonk-terms.

But that credibility is little match for Stein, who starred “in a famous scene in a famous movie and really is an economist,” the lawsuit states. Stein is seeking $300,000 — the price tag for his original contract — in addition to “attorney fees, court costs and punitive damages,” Reuters reports.

Although Morici declined to comment on the case or his acting chops, he said he didn’t receive a makeover before appearing on screen.

“Let me just say, I look in the commercial as I have on TV for many years (bow tie and all),” he wrote in an email. “You need only do a google video search to verify.”

— Rebecca Lurye