Someone once told me to eat shit and die, but I never thought that I'd do it. The San Jose State Dining Commons in San Jose, CA has allowed me this experience; and let me tell you it isn't pleasant. I've tasted all sorts of foods: Indian, Mexican, Japanese, Chinese, Thai, Vietnamese, American, and much more. You could probably say that I am a food fanatic. I enjoy it, as it is a a big part of all of our lives. When I put sweet succulent steak cooked medium-well to perfection into my mouth as it drips with marinade, I think to myself, "Oh how life is grand." Such is life - to have good friends and good food. When I eat at the San Jose State DC, I have but one thought, "God, may I please die?" If you don't know what the DC is, I suggest you follow the stench of human exhaust until you find one. It's usually located somewhere around the residential halls. It wreaks of dead animal carcasses outside and has a strange chlorine smell inside. Everything you eat ends up tasting like chlorine (if you're lucky) or else it tastes like poo, simply put. An example of the DC can be seen in the "Another Brick" music video.

My first meal this semester was great. They served Philly cheese steaks, mashed potatoes and gravy, tempura shrimp, and prime rib. They even had a fresh salad bar and on top of that, a chef that cooked pasta for you while you waited! I had visions of enjoyable food at the DC, where I wouldn't force myself to shovel down the food, where I wouldn't destroy the toilet every time I ate, and where I was no longer forced into bulemia. The next day, I checked the menu on the bulletin board outside my suite. "Flank steak, potatoe-whip, and fried shrimp," it posted. How could this be, they couldn't possibly serve the same thing twice, I thought. Oh, but they did. And it's unbelievable how much mold can grow in a single day. Furthurmore, I find it amazing how every cup has some sort filth covering the inside. If you want to keep yourself busy for hours, try finding a clean cup at the DC, it's like trying to find a Hawaiian without a Luna. After a while, though, you get used to it. I don't even care what kind of slop is on my plate anymore, "Everything but the placenta," I'll say. Placenta, if you didn't know, is a regular at the DC. It's a gooey, slippery, unevenly chunky substance of a sickly yellow color - like the kind of yellow you vomit after you've had too much Jim Beam on an empty stomach. My roommates are seasoned DC eaters and they lap that shit up like milk, but not me; I just eat my gray steak while praying for God to deliver me a swift death. For those of you who are fortunate enough to have never tasted DC food, I applaud and envy you. For you, I ask of one thing: to be kind to your stomach, and never take home cooked meals for granted. What am I talking about, don't take canned foods for granted. For the many that are burdened with a meal card, I understand your pain. To you I have only one thing to say, "Shepards we shall be, for thee my lord for thee..." - Jon