All right, True Believers, it’s that time again. Whip out your measuring tapes, get a pen and paper and get ready to do some floor space equations:

It’s room-selectin’ time!

That’s right, sports fans, Spring Quarter, which by all accounts is a time of backstabbing, brown-nosing and just a general atmosphere of intrigue, is upon us. Time to take machetes to the jungle of confusing regulations as to selecting your roommate and try to come out into the bright Aztec dawn on the other side.

Yeesh. I have to stop watching movies while I write my columns.

This month, the sophomores revel in their newfound ability to get apartments or, God forbid, houses next year, and us lowly frosh clamor to secure the best possible housing we can. As such, judging by the 411 I get when walking around campus — kids still say “411” these days, right? — it seems that the most common destinations for housing are Bromley and Adams halls. I’m not sure why on the Bromley front, but I would assume Adams because of the amenities of the in-building laundry facility and the included lounge chair.

Wait, lounge chair? How did I miss the rooms with the freebie La-Z-Boy? I thought my RA was the one with a lounge chair in his room!

Curses. Foiled again.

Anywho, room selection time this year has reminded me, as so many things do, of Indiana Jones. Is a room in Bromley not the much sought after but rarely attained Ark of the Covenant? Hundreds of people will quest for it, and only one (couple of people) will obtain it. And Adams? Is it not the Holy Grail? I offer these questions to you, O Readership of Mine.

As a point of clarification, I am absolutely not referring to any students as Nazis. However, I am indeed referring to the students who get rooms in their desired halls as Indiana Jones. Or for the girls, Marion Ravenwood. Enjoy it.

For my part, I’ve only been involved with two room selection-related events this month that seem out of the ordinary.

First off, my neighbor “Bob” and I selected our room for next year and discovered that it is right above the rotunda of Read Hall. We’re weighing our options and deciding whether or not to bring a beach umbrella, lawn chairs and a barbecue to store out there. So far, signs point to “best idea ever.”

The second event was less participation on my part and more standing by and laughing until I cried a little. An unnamed person in the general area of East Green with whom I am acquainted became slightly intoxicated this past week, thanks to the combined efforts of Greek Week. During the night, he started to sleepwalk or something involving wandering around the room unresponsively and ended up in the corner of the room, in front of the refrigerator, relieving himself in and around his general personal space area. Following this performance, he encored by stripping down to his birthday suit, standing on his desk and breaking the pull-out lap section and then vaulting onto his bed.

This performance was repeated later in the night.

So next quarter when you get into your room, if you’re on East Green, be wary of a room where the refrigerator seems to give off an aura of untrustworthiness; and if you’re in Read, come by the second floor and join the beach party on top of the lounge. It’s going to be pimpin’, fo’ shiz.

Nick Philpott is a freshman creative writing major and a copy editor for The Post. If you’re offended by his occasional stream-of-consciousness passages or his obsession with film, e-mail him at np714907@ohiou.edu.