Voting Fraud Traced Back to Columnist’s Mother

Well, the votes have been tallied, and much to my surprise, there are many people on this campus who like to look at my boobs.

More on this pressing topic later.

First of all, I would like to announce the winner of the first ever Kim Shable Is So Vain That She Commandeered Space In The Paper With Five Of Her Ugly Ass Pictures Poll—picture number one.

This having been said, I feel the need now to assert my theory that my mother must have bribed each and every one of you, perhaps with cookies, perhaps with five dollar bills, perhaps with a peek at my uproariously hilarious sixth grade class photo. Those of you who were not bribed, I tell you now that you were robbed, because everyone else at least got a free T-shirt.

Picture number two—the one popularly known as Eyes Toward Heaven (I heard that phrase about eight hundred times, except for several people who suggested, not incorrectly, that I would actually be looking toward Kyle Krumlauf)—came in second, presumably based on the fact that my eyes were open, which inexplicably made a lot of people happy, apparently because of a wide-spread panic over my possible eyelessness. ("Dear God! That woman has no eyes! Run for the hills! No time to grab the kids!")

The third picture, the one I chose for myself, lagged far behind, the others—sort of the Donald Trump of the picture race. I was rather saddened by the fact that my own personal choice for the photograph was not well-received, marking the second time my preferences for my column were overridden by another person (Here’s an interesting tidbit: my column was actually named not by me—who had thought up something unacceptably lame—but by a drunk guy in a big green hat on St. Patrick’s Day, 1998. No lie.)

However, I began to see the reasoning behind not voting for my choice: "I can't believe you've been going with picture #3! it looks like you're on the dark side of a nasty loogie-hock!" wrote one astute reader. So, given the fact that I don’t like being spit on or even looking like I’m being spit on, I was willing to abandon my shot for one less loogie-related.

Now, I don’t feel that I can end this column without addressing a very strange and bosomy phenomenon—of all the votes received from students, and, disconcertingly, one from one of my mom’s coworkers, the true winner of this race was none other than the infamous Boob Shot.

I don’t know if I’m supposed to be flattered or totally freaked out.

Let me explain why I couldn’t use the Boob Shot, to which I am also quite partial. I plan on giving my columns to grad schools and prospective employers in portfolio form when I graduate next December, and I have the distinct feeling that a big old picture of me sticking out my boobs might not convey the most professional image:

Me: And here’s my portfolio…

Employer: Hmm… I see for the first two years of your column, you looked like a middle-aged man with a glandular problem…

Me: It was an awkward phase.

Employer: And then you got a new hairdo, and… good lord! Are those… bosoms?

Me: No, sir. Glandular problems.

Employer: I see. We don’t allow such flagrant use of bosoms at our paper, Mr. Shable. Good day.

So, while I appreciate your accolades for my dirty pillows, I’m going to have to keep the under wraps when it comes to my Collegian photo.

At any rate, I want to thank all of you who voted for helping me out, because I seriously didn’t think anyone would vote and I would have to make stuff up. Of course, I don’t see why you felt the need to side with my mom, who used to make me eat lard right out of the can and put poop in my hair and stuff (note: all statements made about Kim Shable’s mom are completely untrue, and she is really quite rad.) But I respect your vote and will change my photo for the good of the people.

However, if you feel the need to share any of the goodies my mom bribed you with, you know where to reach me.