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Restroom Review – Haebler Memorial Chapel Bathroom

Photo Credit: Neassa Hunt

The Haebler Memorial Chapel bathroom is perhaps one of the lesser-known restrooms on campus. Maybe not “lesser-known” but “less thought about.” Finding it alone is something of a challenge depending on what entrance you use. It’s in the basement but it’s easier to find if you use the back entrance. To avoid confusion, as there are two bathrooms in the Chapel, this review will be focusing on the first one closest to the water fountain.

Rather than talk about the positive vs. negative aspects for this week’s review, I thought I’d go point by point.

Privacy: I’ve had great experiences with the Chapel being mostly uninhabited at various times in the past. But in doing research for this review it seemed like I couldn’t get a moment’s peace in there (bad standards for a Chapel). It seemed like I was always running into Red Hot Blue or some guy tuning his guitar in the stairwell. In defense of this bathroom, most people tend to stick to the undercroft room.

The actual bathroom itself is like a nesting doll of privacy. It has two locks. One on the stall door, and one on the room door. So, two locked doors stand between you and the outside world. That’s a plus in my book.

Hours: The Chapel is seemingly always open. While I couldn’t bring myself to drag my body out of bed to check to see if the building was still unlocked at 3 am, I did have a late night on Friday, and it was still open at around 1 am.  

Cleanliness: Not much to say on this front; it’s pretty clean, especially by college standards. I can’t bring myself to wax poetically about it though.

Décor: Now THIS category was the main reason why I picked this bathroom over some of the others, even over the other bathroom in this hallway. Most places I cover don’t have a lot to write about in terms of décor, but Haebler certainly does. Powder blue tiles on the walls contrast beautifully with a dark blue floor tile. There is a vase of dying but also color coordinated flowers on the counter in front of the second mirror.

I don’t know if this would go under décor, but I don’t have anywhere else to put it. The Chapel has a. . . “church smell”? I personally enjoy it to a certain extent, but I could see how someone else would be unhappy with that aspect of the restroom.

Acoustics: The Chapel is certainly lacking in this regard as well. The piano from the undercroft, any noise from the hallway, all make their way into that room with relative ease. Sound flows out of the room as easily as it flows into it.

Stuff Holder: This may seem like a strange category but as a woman who tends to either have a purse/bag or VERY full pockets, a place to hang or place a number of items is very important to me in my comfort. The Chapel has me spoiled for space. There are three hooks in the room, one on the back of the door, one on the back of stall, and one in between the two on the wall. There’s a glass shelf over the sink, the sink being no slouch in holding things itself. Not to mention the counter where the flowers are. There are a few other places to . . . place things as well that are less traditional but let’s just stick with those for now.

Extras: This category is the small things that can’t really be categorized (perhaps “church smell” should have gone under here but the “Extras” section is normally positive things and that’s more of a neutral than a positive or negative). Paper towels are the hand-drying option of choice, which is always a positive in my book. There’s a kitchen and a piano just outside. The kitchen used to have a ton of lollipops in it but now it’s a bit lacking.

Despite the fact that I had a bit of trouble finding privacy this week in particular, and the acoustics not really being what I wanted, I just find the Haebler Memorial Chapel bathroom so charming that I can’t help but give it 8/10.

Space Log Day 161

Photo Credit:

It’s about 0945 on the Allure and we have, surprisingly, done no work all day.

For the first time, The Department has sent us a newspaper from Earth, and, of course, everyone wanted to read it when it first came through. There was a mad scramble towards the log computer when the morning mail alarm first read aloud the incoming paper. Jacob got there first, because he’s the tallest, and he had Tommy Filt in a headlock to keep him out of the way. But then Mrs. S intercepted and made Jacob let Tommy go and then stand across the room. She decided the most fair way for everyone to read it was for her to read it aloud.

So the rest of us crowded around her seat and we spent all day reading the news. It felt a little bit like storytime, like when we were kids, all of us sitting on the ground in a huddle, just listening. And, honestly, it was kind of wonderful. We skipped the boring stuff, because none of us wanted to listen to Mrs. S drone on about things we didn’t care about, and nor did she want to read it. But the advertisements were amazing! The first one we read was for some new face wash that guarantees no acne within a week. All of us just about died when we heard that because we have to ration our acne cream on the ship—I think The Department largely underestimated the amount of acne cream that eight teenagers would need for months and months. Alexandra demanded that we turn the ship around right then and go back to Earth to get some of the new product. Mrs. S said she was being ridiculous and to sit back down.

Jake Kelsey and Nico Soto both flipped when they saw the pictures of the new Nintendo 4DS. None of us could figure out how it worked from the full-page ad, so Jake demanded that we look up videos about how to use it on YouTube. Mrs. S let him because he’s her favorite. She even let Gwen turn all the lights off, so it felt like we were in a proper movie theater while we watched.

We also read a couple movie reviews. After reading them we argued about which we’d all want to watch; we agreed upon the new Incredibles movie. So, if you’re reading this, and you have any power over which movies The Department sends…you know what to do. Sometimes, when we’re lucky, The Department will send us a movie, although it’s never been a movie that we’ve asked for. If we’re lucky, none of us have seen it before, but if we’re even luckier, it will be a Disney movie. I nearly cried when, a few weeks ago, Mrs. S told me we’d just gotten High School Musical 2. When we do get movies, they have have poor graphics and crackly audio (I guess because the transmission of movies into space is difficult?) but at least they don’t have ads like YouTube does.

Then Mr. B came in and asked for the sports news. Apparently it’s difficult to keep up with baseball when you’ve been cryogenically frozen and then stuck on a spaceship for an extended period of time.

It’s weird to think about how sports and politics and businesses keep on functioning on Earth while we’re all stuck up here. Of course I’m not egotistical enough to think that Earth would miss us now that we’re gone, but…I struggle to comprehend how life on Earth can still be normal for some people while my entire world has been turned upside down.

Ew, that sounded super cheesy. I just reread that last paragraph and I am supremely sorry that you had to read it.

So now it’s nighttime, or as close to nighttime as you can get on a spaceship, and Mrs. S said it’s okay that we didn’t learn anything, or do any physical labor all day. She said that even we deserve a day off every once in a while to do something fun. I guess that’s a nice sentiment, but if I get to choose what fun thing to do on my next day off, it will not be reading the newspaper.

And I guess that’s all for now. You’ll be hearing from me again tomorrow!

Love from,


Restroom Review – Welsh Hall Bathroom 2nd Floor


Hello all! I’m here to write a comprehensive restroom review for you. Now I know you’re thinking “why would you do that?” Well, first of all, stop hypothetically questioning me in my own article. It’s rude. Second of all, it seemed like a funny idea. Third of all, struggling with the bathrooms on campus is almost universal when it comes to college. At some point in your tenure at this institution you WILL need do something that you CANNOT do while someone else is showering (for your own sake as well as theirs).

Now I need you to bear with me as I write this bathroom review, as surprisingly this kind of thing doesn’t really exist. Even on the internet! I know, I was surprised too. It did exist on the internet at one point but has been since scrubbed clean. So, for me it’s a bit like trying to write a restaurant review, but there’s no existing record of what a restaurant review might look like.

Okay! Let’s get started.

Welsh Hall Bathroom 2nd Floor

As to avoid confusion since the basement is technically the “first” floor, the bathroom to which I am referring is next door to the piano room. Now this bathroom is not going to be one of the well-kept secrets of this campus; I’m not giving you any insider knowledge (that’ll come later). Rather than drag this restroom down with negatives, let’s talk about what it’s got going for it.

You’d be hard pressed to find a more private pissoir on campus. One room, no stalls, sturdy handrail, LOTS of room. Heck, I wonder if it’s not some kind of journalistic crime that I didn’t measure the room so I could give you the exact stats. A good-sized mirror, over a large flat sink, perfect for holding your phone or your purse while you wash your hands. Paper towels! Never thought I’d have to start putting those in as a positive on this campus. I had assumed that paper towels were a given, but all the restrooms in the new buildings just have that one single, pathetic Toto hand dryer. I don’t like leaving places with damp hands, so Welsh gets some points for that. Also, a hook on the door that can hold a decent amount of weight.

Now onto the negatives; there were bound to be some. The three most important factors to me in these reviews are privacy, cleanliness, and hours. Welsh loses some SERIOUS points on hours. I can’t deduct too much because I don’t have explicit proof of the Welsh Hall bathrooms even having hours; there was a time my sophomore year where I was very much aware that the Welsh bathrooms were closed in the evenings. The building no longer seems to close the bathrooms at night. I checked a few days last week and this week and they appeared to be left unlocked well past 9 pm.

For cleanliness, Welsh neither gains nor loses points. I’ve seen the bathroom in a varying number of states without any discerning pattern to the mess or lack for thereof. Acoustics are also a problem for Welsh. While the single room and lock give you absolute privacy, the acoustics of the room make it seem like an illusion. Sound from the common room travels very easily into the space and leaves you feeling like you’ve got a waiting room or an audience. My recommendation is bringing headphones if you can. On the bright side, I was nervous that the sound was a two-way thing, and that any small noise could be heard by the people in the hallway or common room. In my anxiety I decided to run a test. Leaving my phone running a song at a medium volume on the sink, I stepped outside to see what could be heard through the door. No sound carried! I could barely make out the song playing even with my ear pressed against the door (I’m sure I looked a sight).

Décor is also an issue with Welsh. It’s hilarious but also uncomfortable: a poor choice of mirror layout means that if you are sitting (as a lot of people tend to need to do in a restroom) you will be looking straight into a mirror opposite yourself. It’s very uncomfortable to have to accidentally look yourself in the eyes. I again would recommend bringing headphones and a phone into this restroom situation.

Overall I would say that, despite everything, I would give the Welsh 2nd floor bathroom a 7/10.


Photo credit: Goucher College Virtual Tour (accessed through a google search)

Space Log Day 149

Photo Credit:

Good morning Earth people!!!!!!!! It is bright and early on Day 149 and Gwen and I are the only ones awake. The clock in the log computer says it is 0618 in the morning, and while there is no time in space (or, really, no time at all, anywhere), everyone else’s bodies are synched with the log computer. Usually I’d never be caught dead out of my bunk before 0800, but Gwen and I woke up at 0500 to put glue into Nico Soto’s hair gel. I’m only telling you because you’d never be able to tell him before he uses it!

I think I am going to go back to sleep after I finish typing this, but I figured I’d do myself a favor and get writing this over with.

So, hello. It is me again. I am writing from space, as you know. With every second I am moving further and further away from you, reading this, as well as everyone I’ve ever known (aside from the ten of us that are currently on this ship). We still have no idea where we are going, but I guess that’s all part of the mysterious master plan.

Today has been the first time that me and Gwen had access to the log computer while no one else was around. I don’t know how in (almost) 150 days neither of us has thought about just waking up before everyone else to have the ship to ourselves, but this morning was wonderful. We snuck into the bathrooms, peeked around everyone’s shower caddies and poured glue into Nico’s gel bottle. We even had extra glue, so we put the rest into Alex’s shampoo bottle. We thought it’d be funny to see what happens when (or if) she notices. Which won’t be for a while, probably, because she’s kept shaving her hair since that first time she shaved it all off while on detention. But we’ll see what happens.

Then we realized that all of our pranking had only taken about fifteen minutes, and we still had hours before Mrs. S or Mr. B would wake up. Gwen suggested that we watch Vine compilations, but the main log computer refuses to connect to YouTube, and Gwen’s laptop was dead, and I lent mine to Jake and he was still sleeping. Then we thought about making breakfast, since there was no one around to remind us about food rations, but our last escapade in the kitchen making grilled cheese went so horribly that we agreed to just wait until one of the adults was awake to cook for us. So then we decided to just mess around on the log computer because there was no one who could yell at us.

I’m much better with the communications system than Gwen is, and I found a way to track these logs we send you so that we could call whoever at The Department who reads them. Just for fun, I guess. I couldn’t think of anyone else to call. And the call connected, too, but no one picked up. It just rang and rang.

The weird thing is that I almost didn’t mind that no one picked up. I mean, yeah, it would be cool to talk to the person who’s reading these logs (you, I guess), to talk to someone who’s actually on Earth, but it’s kind of amazing how calming the sound of a dial tone was. I hadn’t heard one in so long.

If you’d asked me, before I got on this ship, the top 1,000 things that I would miss about home, I never would have even thought about dial tones. But I missed them.

Sorry that this log hasn’t been super typical. I didn’t talk about what we were supposed to learn or how we did our best to get out of learning that thing, because it’s still the early morning. I guess tomorrow I’ll talk about whatever we do today. Hopefully this log was still interesting enough to be useful, or at least amusing to whoever reads it. Or else I guess I wasted my time.

Oh well. More tomorrow!

Love from,


Spectacular Unveiling for the New First-Year Country Club

Created: Matt Shore Photo Credit:,, and

It was a glorious August day at Goucher College as workers laid out the prestigious red carpet in front of the newly built First-Year Country Club. Lowly townspeople gathered to witness the new class of first-years arrive in limos. Each student stepped on to the red carpet and gazed upon three high-rise buildings by the names of Squire-side Hall, Trust Fund Hall, and San Pellegrino Selz Hall.

This wondrous oasis was constructed out of solid gold and the tears of upperclassmen who lived in the rat-infested dungeons of Stimson. Beautiful mahogany wooden floors cover the high rise buildings. Each room is also complete with a home theatre, private bathrooms with heated toilets, and at least one butler.

“Yeah it was a little tricky fitting a grand piano into each room while keeping them in tune,” admitted head contractor John Wells, “but we knew these little freshmen would have to practice somewhere especially with the music major being cut.”

While daily room service and free HBO seems fantastic, first-years admitted that this new country club is far from perfect.

“They only have room for one muscle car per student so I had to leave the Jaguar at home. The Lambo is a little more practical,” explained first-year Chadwick Van Seaton.

Upperclassmen also voiced their opinions. “I’m just a little jealous. They come out of there smelling like lavender and I still smell like Stimson. I only lived there for a year!” said senior Alison Wyatt.

President José Antonio Bowen and mascot Reginald “Rowdy” Rodent were pleased to have a new community space to share hors d’oeuvres and watch the Kentucky Derby.

“I think the fire pit really ties the space together. Now everyone can enjoy grilled salmon,” Bowen said in an interview this morning.

“I can’t wait for those tasty little marshmallow treats!” exclaimed Reginald Rodent. “You know, the ones that common folk make while camping. What are those called again?”

There will be an opening gala ceremony next week. Only residents of the First-Year Country Club are allowed to attend. However, upperclassmen are encouraged to watch the festivities from the roof of the SRC.

The Milky, Silky Prize


Like how the elevator slid open for him at work, the trolley doors slurp shut behind him. The platform, holding floral skirts, and once-polished shoes now dirtied by the the grime of the station, becomes acrylic on canvas; twisting and shifting, turning and molding into one hazy, splatter painting through the trains wide windows. Dave nods and purses his lips, acknowledging the woman with the stroller in front of him as he walks away from the doors and to the empty seat by the vent. Key-inscribed graffiti tags are marked between Dave’s seat and the one next to him.

“Next stop Copley,” smiles the woman’s voice over head.

An older man with scruff on his chin and watery green eyes steps onto the train smelling of sweat and pee. The plastic bags he holds have made his fingers white. Following behind, men in scrubs with glasses and Patagonia sweaters file on board.

Dave shifts his gaze from the men entering the train to the window in front of him, folding his left hand over his right. He pulls up his pin-striped jacket sleeve to see his watch. 6:20. To his right, on the empty seat, Dave observes a small creature.

“Object? Tool?” he thinks.

Dave looks to the front of the trolley where the conductor steers and toward the back of the train. He even looks out the window behind him, as if someone would be watching him from the dark alley where the car is stalled momentarily. Dave’s glance lands back at the creature. His brows cross. He looks straight forward and moves his head and eyes around as if he had splashed cold water on his face, unsure of what the thing next to him is, though somewhat amused.

Dave watches his reflection for a while being cut by the pipes underground and looks back at the seat to his right. Two eyes stare back; dark. And a small tattoo of a crescent moon on its forehead. Dave fixed his focus into those dark eyes. He gave in, he couldn’t resist, he’d played it cool long enough in those 15 minutes.

“Your skin,” he whispers, rolling his tongue slowly against his thin framed lips, “it shines. No wonder you don’t need shiny accessories.”

Dave notices the creature has no jewelry. It wears a plastic raincoat with white seams; the transparency of the jacket shows off the white dress underneath, outlining her curves. The creature is modest, yet there is something about it that Dave can’t keep his eyes off of

Dave has a feeling in his chest that it knows a lot.

“I like a little competition. You’re coy, it’s extremely becoming.” He searches for answers between her eyes, which don’t even seem to blink. Dave rubs his forefinger against the side of his thumb.

“Entering Boylston,” smiles the woman overhead.

The screech of the train mimics the pace of Dave’s heartbeat; it’s quickening. His lips curl into a smile, his eyes still don’t leave her gaze. The doors to Boylston swoosh open.

“You’re coming with me,” Dave says under his breath as he gets up. Dave feels as though he is an Olympic figure skater, gliding off the train. The creature’s hand feels like silk in his. It is euphoric. And he knows he’ll have trouble letting go.

“My prize,” he thinks. And just that she is. Dave steps in a haze above ground. Street cars honk and toddlers run to their parent’s arms noticing only another business man with a white iPhone in hand.

Space Log Day 107


It’s been over 100 days, and I am still required to write these stupid logs. As if anyone back home is still reading them. Who really cares what eight teenagers in space are learning, or what they’re thinking about what they’re learning? Mrs. Something (I can never remember her name) says they’re very important for The Department’s records.

Whatever that means.

So, hello to whoever in The Department is reading this. I hope you’re having a nice day today. Kiss the ground for all of us.

Today we learned how to check the windows to make sure they stay air-tight. Alexandra Lopez didn’t show up to mandatory training, and she earned herself an hour in detention. (Detention is getting yourself locked in one of the bathrooms, because they’re the only rooms with no maintenance equipment, no intercom, and no windows. It’s really boring.) Just to piss off Mrs. S, Alexandra shaved off all of her hair while in the bathroom. It took Mr. Banks, our janitor/head engineer/maintenance man/more-that-I-cannot-remember extraordinaire, more time to get the hair out of the sink drain than Alexandra spent in detention.

Mr. Banks has gotten used to cleaning drains of hair, though. After we all woke up from cryo when the Allure got into space, all of our hair kept falling out in chunks until our bodies adapted to being alive again.

Learning how to check the windows was cool but freaky. Knowing that one wrong move could probably kill us all made everyone very still and very quiet. Which is rare, for a group of delinquents.

During training, we’re split into two groups; one with Mrs. S, and the other with Mr. B. Jacob Kelsey and Gwen Clemons, my best friends on the ship, were both part of Mr. B’s group, and I was with Mrs. S, so I was forced to hang out with Nico Soto for the whole time. But then one of the alarms went off because the plumbing was all clogged, and Mr. B had to leave to go check on it. (It was Alex’s hair.) So the groups converged into one, and we all pestered Mrs. S until she let us stop checking the windows and go back to our common area.

I really don’t know why The Department put someone like Mrs. S in charge of this mission. She comes off as a hardass, but she’s really a softie, and even though Jake is her favorite, she loves us all. I’d ask you reading this why she was assigned to us, but it would take you too long to get back to me for it to be worth it.

Now that it’s been so long into this trip, I find myself thinking about our goal more and more. Our objective. This big secret that The Department is keeping for us. From us.

Gwen thinks that they’re sending us to some new galaxy to study planets. Jake thinks that we’re going to meet aliens that The Department has already made contact with. Once we asked Mrs. S where she thought we were going, but she just smiled at us and said, “it’s a surprise.” Which made us think that even she doesn’t know what we’re doing here.

I don’t know what I think. It must be something kind of boring, because if it was important or exciting they’d send actual astronauts and not high school kids. Sometimes I think that maybe there isn’t anything we’re heading towards; The Department just wanted an excuse to get rid of us.

Their daily letters to us (which were all sent months or years ago) sound cheery, but they also don’t reveal anything about what’s going on back on the planet.

I miss home. I miss the ground, and I miss my mom. We all do.

Nico Soto says he doesn’t miss anyone, except I’ve seen him staring at a photograph of his little brother late at night, so he’s a liar. I don’t know what Nico did to get here, onto the Allure, but I suspect I’ll find out eventually. We’re stuck with each other for about…forever, as far as we know.

I think I am going to end this log here. Gwen stole some cheese from the kitchen this morning while everyone was eating breakfast so we’re going to try to make grilled cheese sandwiches, or as close to good grilled cheese sandwiches as we can make with freeze-dried space bread and an electric stove. Don’t tell Mrs. S!

Looking forward to writing to you again tomorrow. As always.


Love from,


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