If Garfield went to UC Berkeley

Tina Pei/Staff

Garfield is the world’s most widely syndicated comic strip of its era. He’s such a relatable character that we could easily imagine him here at UC Berkeley. Here’s what a typical day might look like for him if he went to UC Berkeley. It would definitely include a lot of lasagna and a strategically developed schedule devoid of all Monday morning classes.

Garfield, a humanities major, lives with his nerdy and awkward roommate Jon, who has an utterly ridiculous sense of fashion, evident by the five pairs of Birkenstocks scattered around the room. As the sun begins to brighten up their room, Garfield begins to awake from his dream. “I hate Mondays,” he thinks to himself. “Surely, the professor must have sent a “class is canceled” email. Not to mention, I’m just one of 300 in an incredibly stuffy lecture hall. No one is going to miss me. Not even the GSI knows my name. Today is not the day to contemplate if I’m in the wrong major, or whatever other people are losing sleep over.”

Turns out, Monday hates him more than he hates it. Just before entering into another cycle of deep sleep, Jon’s alarm blares obnoxiously, waking up everyone on their floor — if not the entire building. Instead of spending the morning cuddling in bed like he originally planned, Garfield groans and moves to the couch in the common room to watch TV. The remote two feet out of reach, he picks up his phone and downloads the remote control app instead of getting up to grab it. Later, Garfield takes his first nap of the day. “Why do sit-ups at the smelly RSF when you can do lie-downs on the couch?” he thinks to himself. In fact, sleeping everywhere and anytime is one of his best talents.

After his nap, Garfield makes the trek toward Pimentel Hall and toward his second nap of the day. While the rest of the students are mesmerized by the spinning stage, Garfield slowly slips down a little in the seat and leans his head on a stranger’s shoulder. Surely, his neighbor would appreciate facilitating this peaceful nap.

Dinner is either the most exciting or disgusting time of the day for Garfield. Food at Crossroads is usually a miss, depending on if there’s any lasagna. “Well, well, what’s on the menu,” Garfield mutters to himself. “Soggy pancakes, slimy green things and mushy peas. Oh, look at that, there’s lasagna!” When he tries to fit eight squares of lasagna into the green to-go box, Garfield realizes the container was not designed for that purpose. Instead of writing a comments card to Cal Dinning, he picks up the entire pan and marches straight out of the dining hall so he can eat in the comfort of his room. Satisfied, Garfield leaves the pan outside in the hallway. “I’m sure someone will pick it up,” he thinks.

Picking up his toothbrush for the first time this week, Garfield notices the RA left the scale in the bathroom. Curiosity killed the cat, but he still decides to stand on the scale, which confirms that Garfield has gone well above and beyond the freshman fifteen. “I’m undertall, not overweight!” he yells to no one in particular.

Garfield ignores all floor socials and other people’s attempts at small talk because he has his best friend Pooky the (stuffed) bear. Pooky never complains or tells him to lose weight. Most importantly, he’s always there for Garfield. In fact, the two are going out to Cafe D for taco Tuesday tomorrow.

Before going to bed, Garfield stuffs Jon’s closet with condom balloons, finally utilizing the free condoms he got from the Tang Center. At night he dreams that the entire campus has a power outage, so he won’t have to walk to class tomorrow.