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I wasted half an hour this afternoon reading A Loafer’s Guide to the UC Berkeley Campus. There are so many great buildings on campus that I’ve never seen; I need to spend more time wandering around and checking them out. (I have spent plenty of time in the campus’ most terrible buildings. Evans Hall, where I had a statistics section this summer, is the worst, but my building is Wurster. Ha ha.)

Is this entry worth two drinks or four? Technically, I never mentioned my place of residence, but it’s strongly implied.

Only-in-Washington pickup lines. Finally, someone has combined my love of political geekery with my weakness for terrible pickup lines. Here’s an example: “In full compliance with federal information statutes, I am required to disclose that I’ve fallen FOIA.” Get it? “Fallen FOIA?”

Clearly I need to get out more.

Liz posted this drinking game as a comment, but I’m reposting it, with some formatting changes, because it’s so thoroughly awesome. (And yes, I’ve been too damn busy to post anything. Four classes plus 20 hours a week of research equals a busy, busy Jeff. Hey, I think that’s two drinks right there!)

Christie’s suggestion that Jeff post drink recipes as a sort of penance for making us read passages on urban planning got me thinking, and when he went two weeks without posting anything at all, I knew something had to be done. So, following in the grand tradition of the SF Bay Guardian‘s Jon Carroll drinking game and the annual State of the Union drinking game, here’s what I’ve come up with so far (with the help of Brian, my devoted partner in crime, of course). I hope other devoted readers of pinchy.org will add their own suggestions. (I wanted to include “Posts current music anyone’s ever heard of,” but then I realized I might be one with weird tastes, so someone else will have to decide if that’s appropriate.)

• Mentions living in Berkeley: 2 drinks
• Reminds us that he is now in graduate school: 2 drinks
• Quotes from a book on urban planning: 1 drink
• Uses ostentatious flourishes: 2 drinks
• Posts current reading not related in any way to urban planning: finish your drink
• Jeff’s dad posts a punny comment: 1 drink
• Mentions drinking with his housemates: toast, 1 drink
• Refers to XML or RSS feeds as if anyone cares: 1 drink

Any other suggestions?

Emeryville is hiring a city planner, and the beginning of the job listing tells you everything you need to know about Emeryville’s planning process: “The City of Emeryville is seeking to fill a journey level position to perform professional planning and building work in support of the Planning/Building Department. The successful candidate will function independently performing routine to difficult assignments in current and long range planning. The principle [sic] duties of the current opening involve the processing of development applications.”

One of my city planning classes might move from its current room, which is horribly overcrowded, to one of Wurster Hall‘s larger rooms. Unfortunately, the proposed replacement is room 101.

The door opened. With a small gesture the officer indicated the skull-faced man.

“Room 101,” he said.

There was a gasp and a flurry at Winston’s side. The man had actually flung himself on his knees on the floor, with his hands clasped together.

“Comrade! Officer!” he cried. “You don’t have to take me to that place! Haven’t I told you everything already? What else is it you want to know? There’s nothing I wouldn’t confess, nothing! Just tell me what it is and I’ll confess it straight off. Write it down and I’ll sign it–anything! Not room 101!”

“Room 101,” said the officer.

The man’s face, already very pale, turned a color Winston would not have believed possible. It was definitely, unmistakably, a shade of green.

“Do anything to me!” he yelled. “You’ve been starving me for weeks. Finish it off and let me die. Shoot me. Hang me. Sentence me to twenty-five years. Is there somebody else you want me to give away? Just say who it is and I’ll tell you anything you want. I don’t care who it is or what you do to them. I’ve got a wife and three children. The biggest of them isn’t six years old. You can take the whole lot of them and cut their throats in front of my eyes, and I’ll stand by and watch it. But not room 101!”

“Room 101,” said the officer.

– George Orwell, 1984