I hate fashion. Thinking about fashion makes me want to punch my cat. Unfortunately, this semester I have the pleasure of taking T C 165: Appearance in society. Or, as refer to it, “my fashion class.”

I’ve never had the urge to shoot myself in the skull as much as I do every Tuesday and Thursday in T C 165.

This class has to be the most painful way I can think of to spend three hours a week, possibly even more painful than watching six reruns of “Full House.”

So, I basically spend my time in class making an imaginary gun with my fingers, putting the “barrel” of this gun against the side of my head, and pulling the imaginary trigger in a vain attempt to blow my brains out.

In case my point has eluded you here, I am not too fond of this class. I also have a tendency to complain about it to everyone I know.

This upsets them to the point of wanting to punch me in the stomach, but usually they’ll just make some helpful remark such as “It’s your own fault for signing up for the stupid class.”

Could these people possibly be more wrong? I’m a guy. My fragile guy ego does not allow me to admit anything is my fault, therefore, blame must be passed. In this situation, for forcing me to take T C 165, I blame none other than the Touch-tone Registration Guy.

It hasn’t always been this way. Freshman year, the two of us had a very good relationship.

I would punch the class number I wanted into my touch-tone phone, followed by the pound key, and Touch-tone Registration Guy would politely respond “you have registered for … ” and I would be on my merry way.

When I registered for this semester, however, Touch-tone Registration Guy was not so kind.

In fact, I think I was his “chosen one” for Spring ’99.

When I punched in the class number I wanted, he refused to say “you have registered for …” No, this time, the only thing he knew how to say was “I’m sorry, registration number … is full. No other sections are available.”

Occasionally, he would mix it up and say “I’m sorry, registration number … has been canceled. No other sections are available,” but the message was still loud and clear: Touch-tone Registration Guy didn’t like me.

I tried in vain to register for every known journalism class in the free world along with any class in my minor and anything else that would keep my suicidal tendencies to a minimum.

But Touch-tone Registration Guy refused to let me have any of the classes I could possibly have any use for sometime during my life.

And as if that didn’t piss me off enough, he also pestered me when I was looking through the book for new classes. “I haven’t received a request from you,” he’d say. “Did you forget to press the pound sign?”

This was quickly followed by “I haven’t received a request from you. Good-bye,” and he’d hang up the phone on me. What a prick.

“You idiot,” you’re probably saying. “Touch-tone Registration Guy is just a recording.” What fools you must be to think this.

Touch-tone Registration Guy has us completely at his mercy. He is an evil, spiteful man who finds pleasure in not letting us in the classes we want.

I bet there were 200 open seats for all the classes I tried to register for, but Touch-tone Registration Guy said they were full, just so he could laugh at me while I cursed into the phone and broke things in my dorm room.

I think Touch-tone Registration Guy sits in his little lair somewhere deep inside Beardshear Hall recording us students as we vent our frustrations into the phone.

He then takes these recordings to the Touch-tone Registration Guys National Convention where evil men from schools around the country get together to swap stories and drink martinis.

“I decided to change Billy’s personal access number without telling him,” tells one Touch-tone Registration Guy. “He was never able to register and was kicked out of school. Just the other day I saw Billy going door-to-door selling knives for Cut-Co. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha.”

So, due to the cruel nature of these men, I was forced into taking T C 165 to satisfy a diversity credit.

Personally, I think making us take a class in diversity is stupid anyway.

Besides, I’m already a diverse guy. I’ve even seen “The Lion King” in German.

But that’s for another column.

And because I don’t know who Touch-tone Registration guy is, I will probably continue to suffer his wrath for semesters to come.

I also have to suffer through the rest of T C 165. I’ll try to resist my urge to punch furry animals.

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Peter Borchers is sophomore in advertising from Bloomington, Minn. Thank you for reading. Goodbye.