For every light, there must be darkness. For every peak, there must be a valley. For every best, there must be a worst.\nAnd the Best of Bloomington is no exception. So, here, I give you the darker side of our fair city, those moments and places in dear old Bloomingburg that we wish we could forget -- the Worst of Bloomington:\nWorst Annual Event -- Move-in week. As much as IU hypes Orientation, the actual move-in day becomes a god-awful mix of crammed elevators, sweaty parents and some grandpa driving the wrong damn way on Third Street. (Furthermore, "Orientation"? I'm not one to pull the race card often, but come on. Would you have "Western Europation"?)
Worst Local Band -- Me in my pajamas, yowling "Oh! Darling" while my roommates watch in aghast horror.
Worst Student Organization/Club -- The IDS Opinion page. I mean, have you read this stuff? It must be edited by morons.
Worst Greek House -- Tau Tau Tau.
Worst Professor -- Brian J. McFillen. Seriously, the guy spends so much time writing for the IDS, he can't possibly be teaching classes well.
Worst Dorm Wing -- All of them. There's a reason RPS can't keep sophomores and juniors in the dorms. With malfunctioning laundry machines, nosy RAs and unbearable roommates, dorm life just can't compete with the malfunctioning laundry machines, nosy landlords and unbearable roommates of Bloomington houses. Wait ...
Worst Place to Volunteer -- Everywhere. After going to that "Who is John Galt?" meeting, I've realized that helping those less fortunate is a game for suckers. Thanks for making me a dick, Ayn Rand!
Worst Place for a Date -- Anywhere you can use meal points. The Hoosier Den? The Willkie C-Store? Going any of these places will guarantee that you lose the date, not your virginity.
Worst New Addition to Bloomington -- That new Herman B Wells bust in the library. I love Herman B as much as the next Hoosier, but that thing scares the living bejesus out of me.
Worst Place to Live Off Campus -- The Arch Haven apartment complex where that law student gave the ground a few extra bullet holes. You should probably avoid anywhere that a potential lawyer can accidentally cap you.
Worst Place for Live Entertainment -- The Mormon missionaries in front of the Union. Bless their hearts, but asking them a question is more painful than watching me sing "Oh! Darling."
Worst On-Campus Celebrity -- Preacher Dan. Because I don't like people who call me a heathen.
Worst Facebook Application -- Zombies, werewolves and all affiliates. They're lame and only make us realize how zombie-like Facebook has made all of us.
Worst Restaurant -- White Castle. Seriously, you hike all the way to the West Side and end up with gastrointestinal-hilarity-inducing sliders destroying your stomach lining. Solid going in, liquid coming out.
Worst Place for Dessert -- Any C-Store. If I wanted overpriced Hostess Cup Cakes and Swedish Fish, I'd just go to Village Pantry.
Worst Ethnic Restaurant -- McDonald's. Seriously, have you seen a worse Scottish deli than this one?
Worst Burger -- See Worst Restaurant.
Worst Late Night Munchies -- White Castle again. I was going to put dumpster-diving here, but honestly, I think my risk of infection is worse with the sliders.
Worst Place to Eat and Watch the Game -- Memorial Stadium. Once you've crammed yourself onto a slice of bleacher, having spilled nacho cheese and jalapenos on your pants, you realize to your dismay that the view from up there is probably worse than the view at Scotty's Brewhouse.
Worst Place to Eat with Parents -- White Castle.
Worst Pizza -- E. coli-infected Totino's frozen Party Pizza. Though some have claimed that Totino's doesn't count as true pizza, it confuses enough people to count.
Worst Breakfast -- Cold E. coli-infected Totino's frozen Party Pizza from the night before.
Worst Place that Delivers -- The United States Postal Service. Seriously, where is my next Netflix DVD already?
Worst Spot for Coffee -- Starbucks. If you want sugared milk with coffee flavoring, go here. If you actually want to drink coffee, try somewhere else.
Worst Place to Work Out -- White Castle.
Worst Bar -- Some dude's basement. The bookcase-converted-into-a-bar, stocked with Kamchatka and Mad Dog, invariably evokes "night terror" more than it does "nightclub." And seriously, if you're charging a premium on Osco-brand vodka, you need some perspective, son.
Worst Local Drink -- The jungle juice served in some dude's basement.
Worst Drinking Game -- Kings. No one ever knows how to play, and it just ends in lots of drunken slapping. Which I guess kind of makes it the best drinking game. You win this one, Kings.
Well, there you have it. I hope I see none of these here next year. But I'm not holding my breath.
