Today's Top Stories:
CCSC Combats "Study Day"

Bring It!What would some good security guard gossip be without some good maintenance staff gossip? From Bwogger Chris Szabla...

Girl on cell phone:"What should I say to her? What should I do? Did I do the right thing?"

CU maintenance guy walking slightly behind her and muttering to himself: "What the hell? Fucking questions, questions, questions, questions"


See also: Girls, Janitors

ratsWell, friends, it seems that John Jay is infested with much larger, much blacker, much furrier pests than those of yesteryear—those being the famed bedbugs. Bwog recently received several pictures of pestilence countermeasures deployed throughout John Jay and the cafeteria's back room.

Bwog also speaks to its janitors on occasion. Last time, Bwog asked what the evil smell emanating from behind rats3Bwog's broken stove was; the janitor suggested that there was perhaps a dead rat back behind there, in the electronics—yes, a dead, stinking rat which had wriggled its way into a cozy nest of wires and nearly gutted the whole suite with cleansing gas-fueled fire. Supposedly, this isn't something to raise eyebrows over, these days. Bwog knows its janitor wasn't raising his.

rats2In other housing news, the 12th floor of EC should be ashamed of itself. Housing and Dining reports that fourth incident of 'careless cooking' has been declared by the FDNY, which, in Bwog's opinion, is probably beginning to think Columbia students are conspiring against it. At least, this time, they haven't published the suite number. Bwog speculates that this this omission is intended to slow the formation of a fifth column of anar-cookery specialists.

Thanks to tipster Yadira Alvarez for having her camera phone ready.


In which frequent Bwog contributor J.J.V Neun expounds on the importance of knowing Columbia's most magnanimous employees.

janitorsThere will come a time when you just win the beer pong competition at the West End with your old, sketchy friend from high school, and after stumbling back to your John Jay dorm and collapsing into alcoholic oblivion, that same sketchy friend takes a sharpie and writes graffiti all over your hallway. No problem! you might say. How will they trace it back to you? Fun fact: when your RA sees your name on the wall, you're somehow implicated. Always. Write that down.

And that's when I realized that the most useful person to know at Columbia was not my RA, not Wilma the Omelet Lady, not PrezBo himself, but a stout, middle-aged man named Armando. He, and the other unionized, bonded, dutiful members of Columbia's janitorial staff hold the key (in this case, it took the form of a kick ass spray-on stain
remover that melted the paint on the walls and was imported illegally from Moldova) to getting you out of a housing fine.

Because I looked at Armando with respect, smiled, and never complained about his whistling, he provided extra garbage bags and soap, and never minded when we almost set the building on fire, or when I stumbled into the bathroom he had just shut down for cleaning for a five minute shower before a meeting with my advisor.

See also: Carman, Janitors

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Bwog is compiled by the staff of The Blue and White, Columbia University's undergraduate magazine.

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