I think the main reason I can't wear my "skinny pants" anymore is because my one form of entertainment is dining out.

I can't even remember the last movie I saw in a theater. (They've got like surround-sound and stuff now, don't they?)

Dining out is like some kind of drug. Once you start, you cannot quit.

It's great. You don't have to eat the same thing as anyone else at the table. Nothing on your plate was prepared by "just adding water." It arrives hot and stays that way. The bread is fresh. And they even do the dishes.

But along with all these pleasures also come a few problems.

Coffee houses have fast become a good reason for my fiance and I to avoid doing homework.

"So, what do you want to do?" he says. "Go to the library?"

"No, I hate the library," I say. "I can finish this nine-page paper later. Let's go get coffee."

Even though running to a coffee shop is our excuse for avoiding schoolwork, it seems to be everyone else's idea of a great place to finish their dissertations.

One not-so-unusual Sunday night we dashed to a coffee house near campus. Literally, every table had one person sitting at it with a pile of books.

There are rules, people.

A party of two has priority!

One girl even had the nerve to sit at a table for four, listening to her Discman and reading a novel at the same time, without even a dirty plate or empty coffee cup beside her.

There was nothing. Not a crumpled-up napkin, nothing.

She was in blatant violation of restaurant law. I believe title 183, chapter 12, section 184 clearly states that "no party shall occupy a food consumption station when food items and/or accompanying utensils are farther than five feet from said party."

She is not alone. She joins an entire gang of Americans running from restaurant law.

Just the other day, we got kicked out of our seats because we weren't doing homework. Well, we weren't really kicked out, but the girl gave us this big weepy face when she saw that we were going to sit where she and her study group planned to.

Like we were the ones in violation of restaurant rules, we obliged. "Sure we'd be glad to take that cramped table in the corner covered with someone else's half-eaten food and dirty dishes."

Then there are the violators who are just plain rude.

As we were walking leisurely up to the doors of a nice restaurant recently, a woman kindly held the door open for us. Apparently we weren't fast enough to cash in on her good deed.

"Hurry up," she snapped. "I don't do this for everyone."

Oh really. Well I don't say "thank you" to everyone either.

I think we'll start going to the movies. Maybe then I can wear my skinny pants.

Amanda Hunt is features editor of the Arizona Daily Wildcat. Her column appears every other Friday.