How Do You Deal With A Human Parasite Who Sucks Not Blood, But Good Vibes Out Of You?

We'll get to the headline in a second.

I received a letter last night from the IU Dept. of Communication and Culture saying I was not chosen for admission into the program. Contrary to what I was told, there were 165 applicants for 18 slots - not 300 for 10, which I was told not once, but twice by the same person. On top of that, the letter made mention that this was a record number. Was I lied to? Was it an honest mistake? The answer is probably somewhere between yes and no, like everything else.

I don't think my tastes were too mainstream enough. Moreover, what I wanted to do was historical analysis: "Frank Zappa filmed 'Baby Snakes' in 1977, and it saw release in 1979." What they would have wanted was "Themes of Masculinity, Misogyny, and Patriarchy In 'Baby Snakes.'" Not every film is in need of being sat down on a couch and psychoanalyzed. Some simply need to be discussed for their merits as a form of art.

That said, I'm relieved. I had gotten sick of studying films. I'm more than comfortable studying them on my own - what I want, who I want, when I want, and not be graded for it - but I don't want to make a career out of it.

The recent developments of creating a fall-back plan for the second major (Rock & Roll History) also makes me glad that I wasn't admitted. Because it would have been a tough choice. Naturally, most people - maybe even most of you - would have said to accept the grad school's offer. But as I've mentioned in the fall, I'm tired of analyzing film. It has worn thin on me.

I'm not saying I will never return to it - not in the least. But what I am saying is I will not be returning to it anytime soon.

All right, moving on...I need real advice. And I ask you to take me at face value with this. But Shelley and I were hanging out last night, listening to a Kinks album. Shelley got up to go to the bathroom, and there, at 2AM, was David. He said hello, then invited himself in while Shelley was on the can. An hour and a half later, he left. And it's not like the room was aglow upon his entrance, nor did we enjoy his company.

I can accept and respect other people's opinions - Forrest and Matt are fine examples of this - so long as said opinions are backed up by knowledge. This isn't the case with David. I don't know if he thinks he's funny, but in discussing The Clash, he made a crack about them being "white boys doing reggae." A completely wrong and uneducated comparison between Lennon and Zappa was made, and instead of taking an awkward pause in the conversation and saying, Well, I oughta go...he had to make a funny about that, too.

What really gets my goat about him is that not only will he interrupt you, he will talk over you. My grandfather does that. What's worse is, in the course of a normal conversation, he'll be stretching out a joke to the nth degree while you're trying to speak - and he just won't shut the Hell up. But when he was doing it to Shelley I about lost it. I couldn't stand it happening with just me and him. I really couldn't stand knowing he's pretty indiscriminate about doing it to anyone else.

And he still does not know how to properly apply deodorant.

Before he left, he said he enjoyed talking with us and wanted to do it more. This is one time where I'm going to have to let my own desires dominate my humanitarian side. Acting the way he does is not socially acceptable. He won't go far in life interrupting people, being close-minded to other people's opinions to the point of insulting them, and being an out-and-out ass.

What am I talking about? This is America - if he learns that he smells like day-old crotch and remedies his heinous body odor then he could very well be on his way to becoming President of the United States.

Anyway - I'm fed up with this little bastard. I literally do not know what to do. Mom suggested I tell him I think he's annoying and smells bad. While I don't think it's necessarily that easy, the second half of what she told me was this: "If it's clear he can't take a hint that you don't want him around, then you have to be direct."

So, I ask you - how do I tell him that as much as apparently loves talking to me and thinks we're friends, I dread his company and do not consider him a friend but more of a pain in the ass?

Spare no mercy on this matter. I know I still have until early May to live with him, and as other people have said "You only have to deal with it until early May," but I don't care. He is not acting like a 20 year old, he is not acting like somebody fit to function in normal society. He's a pariah, and I don't want to be associated with him at all.

I am open to any suggestions, and don't think you are at all being cruel. I keep reminding myself if I start feeling that I'm being mean, "Wait, wait, remember how insensitive he is. Remember how rude he is. For God's sake, just breathe in."

Alex