Returning students have been greeted with a new name for New Res and a noticeably different image. This year, generic New Orleans names and almost constant construction, complete with scaffolding, of course, are all the rage.

Let’s set aside the school and Res Life’s blundering of the situation for some other column.

Right now, what needs to be answered are questions of the health risks of living in that environment.

Physically, I’m sure it can’t be completely safe, but even more so, the mental effects are costly.

Construction estimates range from 14 to 24 months, but data compiled by a highly scientific study indicates the process could be even longer.

Think of it this way: if every worker stops what he’s doing to cat-call and stare at pretty young students, if only for a couple seconds, that will add up over time. So much in fact that construction could be up to an entire month longer.

For example, if 20 workmen each stop 20 times a day, that’s 400 breaks. Now, if each break is about 10 seconds or so, that’s roughly an hour a day. For seven days a week, for four weeks every month, you can take it from there. And they might even take a little longer to ogle than those 10 seconds.

Plus, those are only the heterosexual workers. You could make a case that the gay workmen -the guy from the Village People had to work somewhere – would stop and look at the guys. Obviously, there are some variables in this very scientific calculation.

But in general, it might be in the best interest of the school if girls left their dorms without putting on makeup or even showering. Looking unattractive has never been more imperative.

All joking aside, the situation is bad. Many girls have told me how uncomfortable it is to be stared at just trying to get to the Danna Center.

It’s even happened to prospective freshmen on tour groups I’ve taken out over the past month, and those girls aren’t even legal.

Even worse, I’ve heard about girls waking up and finding guys looking in from the scaffolding.

Apparently, Res Life has already solved the problem and told residents that if they want to avoid this, the best way is to keep the blinds shut.

I hope the school actually added security measures to make sure that nothing bad happens as a result of so many workmen in the area. Background checks wouldn’t be a terrible idea if they haven’t already been done.

And what’s in a name?

Not a whole lot, apparently. From what I understand, it was slated to be Knoth Hall, but that’s a touchy matter right now.

Instead, the school managed to pick a name that makes Biever and Buddig sound good. It does go along nicely with the St. Charles Room and the Claiborne Room, but a campus map is starting to sound like a New Orleans road atlas. The next step is the I-10 parking garage, which could have a certain sense of poetic justice.

While Carrollton is ground zero, the effects will be felt at the other Res Quad dorms as well.

In fact, if there is one good thing out of this whole ordeal, it’s that a long running suspicion of mine has been confirmed: Cabra is the best dorm to live in.

I’ve always believed the open balcony of Cabra lends itself to more community interaction as opposed to the cold, lifeless corridors of Carrollton. And as an added bonus, Cabra is now wireless.

So while the flagship of the Res Life fleet is sinking and burning, Cabra stands strong. But you know what? Some of you Carrollton residents might get to know what I’m talking about.