The Bookstore is a pretty bizarre place. Only half of it is really a bookstore–the rest functions as a weird convenience store-esque operation. And as with any good convenience store, there are items on the shelves that are never purchased, doomed to watch longingly as binders and copies of Liberal Arts find new homes. My favorite such item from last year, but unfortunately absent so far this year, is the inflatable Cthulhu arms, which I can only assume are used for an initiation ritual into a cult that is no longer allowed on campus. Next time you find yourself frantically searching for a forgotten sociology book, take a moment to admire some of the oddities that call the Bookstore home. Maybe you’ll even have pity on one and take it back to your dorm.
1. Condoms. A bunch of unmarried kids shouldn’t be having sex anyways (hi, mom!), but if they are, they should use protection. Unfortunately for the poor little rubbers at the bookstore, the Health Center gives condoms out for free. And Crozier. And your CA. And basically everyone on campus. As we all know, college students love free stuff, making this a textbook case of supply and demand that pushes Bookstore condoms out of the market. Sorry, guys.
3. Cookbooks. You know what happened last time a student tried to cook something besides mac and cheese or ravioli? I was forced out of my dorm in the middle of the night because the kitchen was almost set on fire. College students don’t cook. There’s a reason all the food at the market is microwavable–it’s the only kitchen appliance that’s safe for us to use.
4. Alexander The Great Action Figure. Not gonna lie, this item excited something in me that hasn’t been touched since the Cthulhu arms caught my eye. That being said, no one is going to spend $9 on an action figure that I’m fairly certain was made from a slightly adjusted Luke Skywalker mold. How many kids know who Alexander the Great is anyways? They probably think he’s just some knockoff Hercules character.
5. Novelty Pez Dispensers. Long condemned to the nether regions of Christmas stockings and Easter baskets, Pez dispensers are the ultimate gimmick in candy. Apparently some people derive enjoyment from eating flavored sugar pills from Mickey Mouse’s neck, but to me, it’s pretty strange. With mountains of more filling and better-tasting candy surrounding them, these limbless pop culture characters are doomed to an eternity of staring out from behind a clear plastic cage.