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An apology to Saint Mary’s girls

Brad Blomstrom | Tuesday, March 31, 2009

This column is for the ladies, specifically the Belles of Saint Mary’s College. No, I’m not just angling for a date to your formal (though everyone knows I’m a phenomenal dancer with nothing to do on April 25). Instead, this column is an attempt to atone for a year of neglect from your brothers and sisters across the lakes.

I know some of you might be thinking, “Why should Notre Dame apologize? Surely they’ve done nothing but respect and support us over the years!” A few might feel vindicated: “Finally! Someone recognizes that we are not Notre Dame’s red-headed step-sister!” Still more might be confused: “What is this guy talking about? Why am I reading this column when I could be watching ‘Gossip Girl?'”

The truth is, we Domers have been pretty selfish in ’08-’09 – we haven’t given you a Viewpoint war to call your own. We’ve been completely preoccupied with our own issues, (Melissa’s buddies, snowballs, yelling “sucks!” at basketball games, Obamania, etc.), and have completely overlooked the Saint Mary’s firestorm that normally arrives every spring with the tulips.

Furthermore, a quick glance at the calendar shows little chance of Saint Mary’s taking over the Observer at all this year. In two weeks’ time, everyone will be upset over the “lameness” of the new Shirt, even though they will buy one the day it comes out. Then there will be fallout from PigTostal or the lack thereof (Side note: make it happen, swim team. Stick it to the man). Even with those two issues, we still will not have addressed the 500 lb. gorilla in the room: Vagina Monologues. It’s a crowded schedule, and unless you act now, you won’t make it in.

To add insult to injury, even the Keenan Revue refrained from making any Saint Mary’s jokes this year. The Keenan Revue, of all things! By junior year at Notre Dame, I was sure of only three things: losing in the first round of Bookstore, sweatpants after Thanksgiving and smick chick jokes at the Revue. All that’s left of the Revue now is a bunch of guys in their underwear grabbing each others’ butts, (not that the butt-grabbing isn’t tastefully choreographed).

In talking with a few seniors at Saint Mary’s, I’ve learned that they feel cheated by these developments. To them, Belle-bashing is an annual rite, something to be celebrated rather than avoided. To me, their thick skin and ability to take a joke is a quality which I hope will someday cross Route 31. They have to put up with our endless indignation over nonissues all year, and it is only fair that they get their 15 minutes of fame. Therefore, in the spirit of making amends before I have to be forcibly removed from campus in May, (trust me, I’m not leaving without a fight, NDSP), I would like to give this year’s seniors the Viewpoint war (albeit abridged) they deserve:

Notre Dame letter: You probably can’t read this because of your inferior intellect, and you shouldn’t be allowed in the student section at football games because you can’t understand our complicated cheers.

Saint Mary’s letter: Zahm doesn’t even understand all of the cheers.

Notre Dame letter (guy): You’re all named Caitlin or Katie or Kate or Mary Kate or Maribeth, which makes remembering your name easy after a drunken weekend hook-up while making cell phone directory organization extremely difficult.

Saint Mary’s letter: That’s not true! Respectfully, Katie ’09.

Notre Dame letter (girl): I hate you because I can’t get my ring by spring from that dreamy guy in O’Neill. The reservation I made my freshman year to have my wedding in the Basilica will now go to waste!

Saint Mary’s letter: The first day of spring was two weeks ago. Don’t hate the player; hate the game.

There you have it, in so many words. I’m glad that’s behind us. Now we can get back to debating important topics like Bookstore team name censorship.

Brad Blomstrom is a senior majoring in finance, economics and closed-mindedness. Although he loves being a

college student, he can’t wait for the day 40 years from now when he will still be writing outraged letters to the Viewpoint editor while yelling at kids to get off his lawn. He can be contacted at [email protected]

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not

necessarily those of The Observer.