If you think this Klexicon entry is going to be about the Pink House, an off campus house affiliated with the Phi Kaps, you couldn’t be more wrong. No, this entry is rather a RANT to express my RAGE at the RAMPANT DISORGANIZATION and MISLABELING that PLAGUES our campus.
Apparently it’s not enough to have two different Mathers, between 3 – 40 different buildings named Gund, or that the e in Rosse is silent. We’ve gotta complicate things more by giving yet ANOTHER CONFUSING NAME to a campus destination.
Let’s set the scene: It’s a Friday night, and you’re out and about, trying to sniff out a function to attend. Suddenly, you get a text from your friends: “lolololol yo put yr walking shoes on and comes 2 pinkhaus the party is BUMPIN”. Pinkhaus, you say? Sounds easy enough! You decide it can’t be that hard to find a bright pink Haus amongst the tame, tastefully muted palette of Gambier, so you set on your merry way.
Flash forward a few hours: it’s pouring rain. Your tattered, hollow husk of what used to be a body scrapes itself onto the sidewalk in front of Fiesta Mexicana. In the morning, someone discovers you. You don’t know where you came from, and you don’t know how you got here. You start fresh, assuming a new identity, having been legally adopted by and offered a job waiting tables at Fiesta by the owner, aka the kindly stranger who found you on the street. All you remember from your past life is a conditional statement that continues to linger in your mind, a few words that mean nothing to you now but changed the course of your life irrevocably… “If only they had painted it pinker.”
Pinkhaus (peeenkh-hawwes) n. : 1) An off-campus student house, which is apparently sort of pink but not really that pink. 2) A trick. To attempt a journey there is to purchase a one-way, non-refundable ticket to Hell, with a layover in Certain Doom.
Kenyon Kontext: “There is no Pinkhaus, only Zuul.”