Received: from postoffice4.mail.cornell.edu (POSTOFFICE4.MAIL.CORNELL.EDU [132.236.56.12]) by postoffice.mail.cornell.edu (8.6.12/8.6.12) with SMTP id XAA29893; Wed, 31 Jan 1996 23:33:32 -0500 Received: (from daemon@localhost) by postoffice4.mail.cornell.edu (8.6.12/8.6.12) id XAA07370; Wed, 31 Jan 1996 23:34:36 -0500 From: jjc7@postoffice.mail.cornell.edu Received: from [132.236.134.20] (SBY10.CIT.CORNELL.EDU [132.236.134.20]) by postoffice4.mail.cornell.edu (8.6.12/8.6.12) with SMTP id XAA06954; Wed, 31 Jan 1996 23:31:44 -0500 Date: Wed, 31 Jan 1996 23:31:44 -0500 Message-Id:Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" X-PH: V4.1@postoffice4.mail.cornell.edu (Cornell Modified) To: (recipient list suppressed) Status: RO X-Status: From: jjc7@postoffice.mail.cornell.edu (Jason J Cho) Subject: The Choster is Gone FAQ Well, although I will be on e-mail at this account still, I will physically be residing for the next few months at 1431 N Post Rd, Fullerton, California 92633-2043 (714/879-6826) within a few short days. Those of you all in the Ithaca area are invited to my good riddance party Thursday evening 10:30pm-ish. Margaritaville 2 Take 2, barring a repeat of our recent SRC/police fiascos, will feature margaritas, corona, and Jimmy Buffet music. LEGAL DISCLAIMER: If you are under the age of 21, you actually read an invitation to *jar* night. We will be debating the relative merits of glass and plastic squeeze. Bring Your Own Milk. Q. What the hell are you talking about? A. Yes, folks, my delightfully understanding college, delightfully understanding parents, and delightfully understanding professor of Agricultural, Resource, and Managerial Economics have found a way to preserve your sanity by suspending me from school. Q. No, wait, so, what happened, exactly? A. Having carefully written down and double-checked the exam time for ARME 310-- or so I thought-- I arrived promptly and took a seat for ARME 340. Whoops. The Professor was very understanding and gave me an hour to do the three-hour exam the next day, incidentally when I had a final paper in my law school course due. Q. So you're going to do... what? A. My parents are making me fly back to scenic Orange County, CA. I assume I will be taking classes in continuing studies at either UCLA or UCI for the spring quarter before I begin my internship in Washington this summer. Although I'll probably just end up in summer school. Q. So does this mean I'm not going to be receiving any random e-mail from you until August or September? A. No. I can still telnet to my Cornell account to terrorize you. Q. When are you leaving? A. On Friday at 11:00am, I will be on a Greyhound to Washington, DC. For the weekend, I will be attending a political seminar sponsored by the Leadership Institute. On Monday, I will be flying out of Washington National to LAX. If you're in the Washington area and want to give me a buzz, I'll be at the intern house in Arlington, VA at 703-841-1868. Q. When are you coming back to Cornell? A. I will be enrolled again this fall semester, provided my parents and I haven't killed each other in the meantime. I might be able to fly back for Senior Week, but the the chance is slim and the outlook grim. Q. Good God, who are all those people in the header? A. Everybody, meet everybody-I-know-who-has-e-mail-and-who-I-care-to-look-up- right-now. And no, you're not in any particular order. Q. So I guess you're graduating late. So you're technically only a sophomore now? A. Worse. I entered Cornell with 28 (largely invalidated, but nevertheless accepted) credits. Essentially, I'll be graduating as a sixth-year-senior (just pretend I'm an architorture student). Q. It was all that work for the American, wasn't it, you condescending racism-philosophizing homophobia-justifying Social-Darwinist *Puritan*? A. Shut up, you sound like my faculty advisor. Q. It was all that work for the CR's, wasn't it, you mean-spirited money-grubbing backroom-dealing social-climbing *dittohead*? A. Go away, you sound like my parents. Q. It was all that work for the house, wasn't it, you elitist woman-abusing pledge-hazing baseball-cap-wearing alcoholic *frat boy*? A. I swear to God, if you don't leave me alone, I'll arrange to have all of my mail forwarded to you-- and I receive 50-75 messages a day. Q. Dork. A. Moron. Q. Why the hell are you telling me all this? Do you think I care? A. Do you think *I* care? Smooches. Seeya later. -- JasonC jjc7@cornell.edu