The Most Awesome Man That Ever Lived

My Nano froze up yesterday on "Homeward Bound." Damn you to hell, Garfunkel. Simon...you're still okay. There was nothing I could do. The nano has no off switch--the power is all software controlled--so once it froze up there was nothing to be done but wait for the battery to drain until the power cut out.

I can't abide silence on the walk to the parking lot after work, so my brain decided to play some music. You'd think it would be something awesome like Rage or Newfound Glory, but then BAM! Dixie Chicks. Not even upbeat peppy Dixie Chicks, it was freaking "Cowboy Take Me Away". OH, GOD. I begged my brain to play something else, but it just laughed and cranked up the volume. The only way to get something like that out of your head is of course through your mouth--and so it came to pass that I sat alone in my car on the drive home, singing unaccompanied at full volume about how I wanted some rugged outdoorsman to come sweep me off my feet. It was not a strong moment for me.

And now I've shared the tale, and why? So you can pass it on to your children, and they can pass it on to their children, and so on and so on through the generations until all people of the world come to know the story of The Most Awesome Man That Ever Lived. Yeah.

Chuck Norris Is So Badass He Gets Another Post

Do you suppose it's bad that I just sit here in my cubicle laughing aloud to these things during the work day? I'm thinking if my boss says anything to me I'll just give him a roundhouse kick to the face.

Chuck Norris once ate three 72 oz. steaks in one hour. He spent the first 45 minutes having sex with his waitress.

Chuck Norris doesnt shave; he kicks himself in the face. The only thing that can cut Chuck Norris is Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris appeared in the "Street Fighter II" video game, but was removed by Beta Testers because every button caused him to do a roundhouse kick.

Rather than being birthed like a normal child, Chuck Norris instead decided to punch his way out of his mother's womb. Shortly thereafter he grew a beard.

Chuck Norris is not hung like a horse...horses are hung like Chuck Norris.

When Chuck Norris's wife burned the turkey one Thanksgiving, Chuck said, "Don't worry about it honey," and went into his backyard. He came back five minutes later with a live turkey, ate it whole, and when he threw it up a few seconds later it was fully cooked and came with cranberry sauce. When his wife asked him how he had done it, he gave her a roundhouse kick to the face and said, "Never question Chuck Norris."

I'm thinking of changing the format of my blog to consist entirely of quotes stolen from funnier people. Awesome to the max.

More Phone Woes

Sprint PCS is a son of a bitch. I once saw it scissor kick Angela Lansbury! Needless to say my phone still does not work--that pink tie wearing bastard lied to me. I'll never trust another metrosexual. It's such an irritating problem--if it were acting up with outgoing calls, at least I could identify the issue as it arose and take steps to circumvent it, but as it is I don't even know what I'm missing. Kel could be trapped in a meat locker in New Jersey again. I could be missing invitations to top New York nightclubs, or William Shatner could finally be returning my calls. There's no way for me to know. I'm cut off.

I called to cancel my service on the grounds that they are stupid ugly jerks and their faces are ugly, but they wouldn't let me out of my contract without the $150 early termination fee. For some reason I am still locked in a service contract after more than 5 years with Sprint...having now renewed it twice. It's not that I'm an idiot, see, I just enjoy being contractually bound. Like a babe in swaddling clothes. Anyway, they wouldn't let me cancel without a $150 cancellation fee, but they did offer to send me a brand new phone. Suckers! You thought you were winning back my loyalty, but really I'm going to sell that phone on eBay and use the profits to pay your cursed early termination fee so I can be rid of you and your pastel formalwear once and for all.

Oh, people may think that they don't care about losing one customer, that the $150 check is more than enough to compensate them, but I know for a fact that the president of Sprint lies awake in the dark of night with his covers pulled up half over his face, and when he's not thinking about me "in that way," he's thinking about the terrifying prospect of losing my business. And he weeps. Someday I will don a Richard Nixon mask and run right up and kick him right in the junk, and he'll have to live out his days knowing he took a shot to the gonads from our nation's most evil president outside of Andrew Jackson. Wait, what?

Smithers...You Must Believe

Victory!! After hundreds and thousands of years, my check card has finally arrived! No longer will I be a slave to my hilariously low credit limit, now I can spend! spend! spend! laughing all the while like a madman. Actually I hate using my credit card and have never even come close to hitting my hilariously low credit limit, but I'm glad to be done with it all the same. Even as I type this I am doing the happy victory dance of joy--picture me in bandoleers, hopping around and shooting guns in the air while I scream "Aiyiyiyiyiyiyi!!" Or if you prefer, dancing in a kickline with my siblings to the Can Can, which for some reason enjoys the status of Official Schreiber Victory Song. That one would be a little weirder though.

The game was a good time, South Bend managed to squeeze out one last decent day before tundranating for the winter. Whoa, Tundranating! It's like the polar opposite of burninating! Anyway, scolson and dheinsch were in, two of my classmates who enjoy the distinction of virtually always being referred to by their AFSIDs outside of face to face conversation. Scolson's OSU-loving friend tried to shotgun a beer without actually tilting it toward her mouth, bringing me countless minutes of wondrous joy. Dheinsch ran out of gas on the Pennsylvania turnpike in the middle of the night, bringing me joy to last a lifetime. And then there was Drunk Girl. No one knows who she was or where she came from, yet henceforth I decree that every tailgate should have at least one really drunk girl running around asking everyone to feel her chest between sessions of projectile vomiting.

In other news, Baritones apparently won section of the year. Hahahahaha! Ha ha ha! HAHAHAHAHA! Hi. Larious! It's difficult to explain why that is so funny, but it's somewhat akin to Denise Richards winning best actor or William Hung snagging a grammy. Not that they didn't deserve it, I'm sure the current crop is very good--it's just that historically, the section has not...striven toward greatness. Kudos, my young friends.

Speaking of baritones, the lady Jism has requested that you name someone Butter Stick next year, and as your Liege Lord I command that you comply. Yeah that's right, I'm reading an old timey book so I say weird stuff like that now. Also "What ho!" and "Have at you!" Those two never really appear in the book, but I think they sound pretty awesome.

And finally, the game: steamrolling as expected. We had a nice little scare there first quarter, but Magic Pants set things right in short order. Not the most exciting of games, but a win is a win, even against Orange. One more and then on to the Fiesta Bowl, to which Kel and I are thinking about getting plane tickets now before they get ludicrously expensive. Does anyone who knows more about the bowl selection process than I think that's a bad idea?

BEHOLD!!

I took hours upon hours of torturous tickling, but I bring to you: an authentic Kelly Mortell reproduction of the original...Lee Corso Anthropomorphic Penis!!

Avert your gaze!! It is said that when Monet gazed upon its beauty he ate all his paintbrushes and gauged his own eyes out, believing he had reached the pinnacle of existence. You have been warned!

Pe-cheew, Pe-cheew!

Those were my nipples, because it's cold outside, and I still refuse to button my coat. It's a leftover habit from my crazy past of wearing clothes inappropriately, ranging from buying all my garments 8 sizes too big, to wearing athletic shorts under my pants at all times...to walking around in sub-zero temperatures with an open coat. Other now defunct psychotic clothing-related behaviors include:

• choosing outfits in high school to match my socks, rather than the other way around
• using my bed as a hamper by day and my chair as a hamper by night all throughout college, so I was constantly moving the pile
• occasionally ironing a pair of jeans, and once--sadly I am not making this up--ironing my shoelaces

Ha! See, that's the glory of being engaged. I'm already precluded from ever getting another date, so I can say stuff like that without fear of being labeled a gigantic tool and dying alone. While I'm at it, I did chess club AND the trivia team in high school, and there's nothing any of you can do about it! Anyway, they were the flat kind of shoelaces, and I wanted them to look crisp. The end. Forever.

This weekend looks to be pretty quiet. No one is staying at our place for once, and I suspect the temperature will keep the tailgating shiznittery to a minimum. The game tomorrow will be a steamrolling, and frankly I'm really just going for the jumbo sausage and the chance to scream "Samardzija!" without looking like a weirdo.

My Pick:

ND: Chuck Norris/Vin Diesel/Mr. T Trifecta of Badassery
Orange: Delicate lace doilies

Neither Snow Nor Rain Nor Heat Nor Gloom Of Night Will Stay Me From Punching You In The Throat

I haven't been getting my mail lately. It took me a while to catch on--its been well over a month and still no check card, but I blamed that on NDFCU. I haven't received any bills or mortgage statements, but that, also, is not out of the ordinary. I apparently deal with a lot of incompetent companies. But when my Netflix rentals stopped coming...I knew something was awry. It turns out that my postal carrier marked my address as "vacant" for some reason, perhaps his own amusement, and has been returning my mail to the senders. But here's the awesome part--not all my mail. Just some of it. I'll still get the odd letter here and there, so it took me weeks to figure out that there was any problem. Why are you trying to destroy me, Postal Service Man? I went to the post office last night, and had the following awesome convo with the well informed clerk:

Me: Hi, I haven't been receiving my mail. Here's my address.
Clerk: (Disappears for 10 minutes)
Clerk: Yes, that address has been marked vacant.
Me: Oh. Well, I still live there. My roommate still gets his mail, too.
Clerk: Yeah, um...that address has been marked vacant.
Me: Oh...okay. Well, I still live there. Do you have my undelivered mail?
Clerk: No, nothing in the back.
Me: Ah. Well, there should be weeks of it. Could it be somewhere else?
Clerk: Um, I don't really know. I guess it could be.
Me: I will eat your children.

It went pretty much like that, only instead of threatening to eat her children I actually ran weeping from the office. You know, I just realized I stopped getting mail at roughly the same time my cell phone service stopped working. Why are You exacting Your divine retribution upon me, Jebus? Is it because I co-founded the Church of JISM? Ate all those puppies? Just tell me what to do! I must receive The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou! Also my check card would be great.

It's cold out. I had to scrape my car this morning. Donkey balls. In better news, Harry Potter comes out tonight! I likely won't get to see it for a while, since Kel has 80,000 exams coming up and Ball is seeing the midnight show with more vital people than I, but at least I can sleep secure in the knowledge that it's out there...waiting. Anyway, I don't really mind putting it off for a while--each day I don't see it is one more day I don't have to gaze upon the hideous visage of Rupert Grint.

Good God man, you're a troll!

Bill Brasky Knockoffs

If you have ever doubted the Chuck Norris/Vin Diesel/Mr. T trifecta of badassery, please refer to some of my favorite facts:

When Chuck Norris has sex with a man, it is not because he is gay, but because he has run out of women.

Chuck Norris once roundhouse kicked someone so hard that his foot broke the speed of light, went back in time, and killed Amelia Earhart while she was flying over the Pacific Ocean.

When Vin Diesel goes to donate blood, he declines the syringe, and instead requests a hand gun and a bucket.

Every time Mr. T pities the fool, a pornstar regains her virginity. Then proceeds to lose it to Mr. T.

If you ask Chuck Norris what time it is, he always says, "Two seconds till." After you ask, "Two seconds to what?" he roundhouse kicks you in the face.

Mr. T was the first man on the moon, and claimed it by carving a gigantic "T" stretching from horizon to horizon. In his wisdom, he carved it on the dark side, as a warning to any aliens who might even think of attacking.

The original theme song to the Transformers was actually "Chuck Norris--more than meets the eye, Chuck Norris--robot in disguise," and starred Chuck Norris as a Texas Ranger who defended the earth from drug-dealing Decepticons and could turn into a pick-up.

Vin Diesel is not lactose intolerant, he just refuses to put up with lactose's shit.

When Chuck Norris plays Oregon Trail his family does not die from cholera or dysentery, but rather roundhouse kicks to the face.

Vin Diesel coined the phrase, "I could eat a Horse" after he ate every last unicorn in existence.

When Mr. T has nightmares, people around him start dying for no reason.

On his birthday, Vin Diesel randomly selects one lucky child to be thrown into the sun.

Vin Diesel ripped out of all Charlie Brown's hair but left a single strand to remind him one day he'd come back to eat him.

Chuck Norris can make a woman climax by simply pointing at her and saying "booya".

I'm Bill Brasky! SAY IT!!

Are Those Bocce Balls In Your Pants...

...or do you just have elephantitis of the gonads?

Best 2am game of Bocce Ball...ever.

Ahhh! My winnings!

My Phone Works Again! Maybe!

If you've called my cell in the past few weeks and I haven't answered, it's not because I hate you--well, it might be because I hate you--but it might also be because I've been randomly not receiving incoming calls. Some get through, others don't. There seems to be no predictable pattern. Same with voice mail, some I receive, others never make it. It's totally awesome, and I highly recommend Sprint to anyone who enjoys being jerked around by a multinational conglomerate. Anyway, I finally got around to taking my phone in, and the clerk claims that he fixed the problem, so it looks like I'm back in business. In my experience, every clerk in every field ever has no idea what he's talking about, but I'm keeping optimistic on this one, baby. He had a pink tie, I've got a good feeling.

The Streak Continues

42 in a row, and no end to the streak in sight. I love Navy games. Tickets are falling from the sky for all who would take them, and everyone is so outstandingly nice and respectful. Bars around town proclaimed "Welcome Navy fans!", the Navy band got as much applause as our own, and hearty congratulations on a game well played were handed out like candy. Nary a boo to be heard, not even from that really drunk guy who got thrown out in the second quarter for yelling "I'm so drunk! I'm so f*cking drunk!" to the gaggle of ushers standing next to us. Eat that, drunk guy! That's what you get for screaming "Can you...can you hear me? Can you hear me? Can you...hey, can you hear me?" into your cell phone the entire first quarter.

The weekend was pretty standard, in the good way. Various alumni were in, beer was consumed, much football was watched. Kel and I put up our Christmas tree yesterday, and damn the naysayers! It was 16 dollars at Wal*Mart, and it is the most glorious spectacle of light and wonderment since the compy 386.

Now I would like to get something off my chest, and that is that there is no way in hell a Scientologist Pirate could ever hope to fight a Rastafarian Pirate and live--anyone who says otherwise should probably prepare themselves for a stern kick squa to the nook. I mean, the very idea is absurd! What's next, a talking banana? As any schoolchild knows, the only mammal that can successfully challenge a Rastafarian Pirate is the Beverly Hills Ninja, who could simply consume his opponent whole. Ironically, a Scientologist Pirate will skewer the Beverly Hills Ninja 9 times out of 10! I call it the triangle of death, and with its mention officially bring to a close the most ludicrous paragraph ever written about anything, at any time, for any reason, ever.

You Norwegian Son Of A Bitch

Well over a month now since that Norwegian bastard yoinked my check card number, and I still have yet to receive a replacement. I hate you so much Norwegian dude. Having typed "Norwegian" into Google Image Search, I have reason to believe he may drive a magic carpet and can be spotted in a froofy feathered turban, so if you see anyone like that you might want to kick him in the grundle. Anyway, it's been a total beeyotch having no ATM access for the past month, and if they don't send me a new card soon I might just implode.

Speaking of criminal masterminds, Lizett has been spreading false rumors that Arrested Development is getting cancelled, even going so far as to hack into TV Guide and CNN to spread her filthy lies. It's not true! It can't be true! Oh God, it is true. I want to cry. Still, we musn't mourn the Bluth family prematurely--instead we should enjoy the time we do have left together to the fullest possible extent. I, for instance, am going to start stalking David Cross, and intend to make sweet love to my television every time I hear Ron Howard's voice.

Kimlinger, Merello, and Ze Cock should be getting in tonight, which was an unnecessarily long way of saying--Beer Time. Navy tomorrow barely warrants mention--Ball says he's still worried, but you're living in the past, man. If Charlie Weis loses to the likes of the Middies, I'll eat my...bicycle, or something.

My Pick:

ND: Bluth Bananas
Navy: Poop Deck

Mr. F!

Where'd You Learn That, Druuug Schoool?

I just went over to LaFun to pick up some lunch and some DayQuil, and to my amusement and minor inconvenience discovered that Indiana just implemented some super awesome new drug laws. The medicine rack now contains nothing but a sign that says "In accordance with Indiana State Law, we are now keeping all cold medicine behind the counter like a bunch of ginormous tools." So I go to the counter and ask for some DayQuil, and the checkout girl ID's me. Holy crap, you've got to be kidding me. So I show her my license, and she trapses off to a secured locker to retrieve the medicine--I reach for it when she gets back and she goes "Hold on, you have to sign the registry." The registry? Holy crap, this time you really do have to be kidding me. But I've got a cough, so I signed over my driver's license number and home address, tossed her some nail clippings, and went on my merry way. Good LORD there must be some good stuff in this DayQuil! I never knew. If I didn't have reason to believe the Indiana State government is now watching me, I'd totally eat a whole box just to see what happens.

Kel and I just signed up for Pre-Cana. Boy am I super pumped about that! Actually I've had a couple people tell me that it's more valuable than one would expect and I should give it a chance, but frankly the chances of me doing anything of the sort are not so high--I just picture a couple with 17 children lecturing me on the advantages of natural family planning while nuns beat me with yard sticks. It'll be my 6th birthday party all over again.

Animal House Reunion

Check us out, the Original Animal House, all back together again for ND football!

Actually, you may find this hard to believe, but Goat wasn't even there during that shot. He was at Purdue! I digitally inserted him using photo manipulation techniques so advanced that only a trained ninja could detect them. Look again, can you see it? I wouldn't try any heavy mental lifting for the rest of the day, because I'm pretty sure I just blew your mind.

Wouldn't that be awesome to actually get all the Animal House folk back together though? I'm talking both years, baby. The impending bowl game would have been a perfect occasion, but Cock had to go and volunteer to help poor children in Ecuador. What the hell is that, man?? I'm sure we'll find another opportunity. I'll bring an old pot filled with rotting mac&cheese and let you guys clean up the mess the next day, it'll be just like old times.

Oh yeah, and um...sorry for those years of savagery.

Arrr, Me Mateys. Arrrrrrrrr

Thanks to Lizett for directing me to this piece about a cruise ship deflecting a pirate attack with a sonic weapon. Serves you right, chumps! You may call yourselves pirates, but do you have any wooden limbs? Do you drink grog and carry a cutlass? Do you have a hook-hand, a parrot, a skull-and-crossbones hat? Have you ever once said the word "Arrrrrrrrrr"? I hope your eardrums ruptured and you peed your pants.

Hey Krusty, Don't You Hate Pants?

Haha, I just saw Larry Dwyer in a full-on sprint across the parking lot. Pretty much anyone sprinting in business casual is funny, but LD? Come on! I don't know where he was going or why he was in such a hurry, but boy that guy sure does have a lot of teeth.

Excellent weekend. Standard football fare, but with the added bonus of infrequent alumni visitors Box and Jism. We headed out to the tailgate around 9ish, and inspired by the extra time (usually I sleep in) I bet Jism my immortal soul that I could eat 73 sausages before the day was out. I ended up stopping at 4, but only because I wanted to--I totally could have done it. The game itself was glorious, another victory with authority--I credit Charlie Weis and his magic pants.

Saturday night we all crashed like a bunch of chumps, but not before catching the end of the Miami Va-Tech game. Hilarious. I have nothing against Va-Tech, and I downright hate Miami, but I just couldn't help laughing as things continued to go terribly, terribly wrong for the Hokies.

Sunday was bad luck for Jism, as her 9am SBN flight got delayed, cancelled, and finally rescheduled for 6pm...out of Chicago. Her misfortune was my gain though, as I got an extra few hours of Jismatastic goodness out of the weekend, as well as a delicious Steak'n'Shake lunch. Hilariously, when she finally got to Chicago they basically told her that they knew of no such flight, had never even heard of South Bend Regional Airport, and then punched her in the face. So I bet that was a nice special surprise for her.

Here's some advice: one trip to Steak'n'Shake a day is really enough for any man. For some bizarre reason Kel and I headed back to Steak'n'Shake for dinner, where I made it through maybe a third of a burger before my body told me on no uncertain terms that I was not to ingest any more Steak'n'Shake that day. Thank God I still had those 69 sausages leftover from Saturday or I would surely have starved.

And now, please enjoy these unrelated and wildly out of context Lunchbox quotes from the weekend.

"In the future, porn must be distributed on octagonal DVDs."

"Or you could just release feline AIDS into the water supply."

"What, she's not coming!? She'd better be having sex with a horse right now."

"Then he chased me up a hill and I had to call the State Troopers like, help meeee!"

"Get out of bed and put on something tight--you're taking us out to lunch."

"Naturally I assumed he was a Viet Cong sniper."

"Then he started beating me with a book, yelling Study! Study!!"

"Yeah, I dated an older woman--her name was Gertrude and she said I reminded her of a World War I Doughboy."

"I'm telling you, chug a bottle of pedialyte and rub one out--it works!"

"They were my anal warts all along! Hee hee hee!"

I Want AmberBock That's Cold

I heart you, CJs. I heart you with all my heart. Heartily. Oh God, somebody stop me. I headed over to Legends around 4:30 yesterday to find Jism and the Ball already hard at work--two dollar drafts, oose! LB joined us shortly after and we all headed off to meet Kel at CJs for significantly more expensive drafts and delicious, delicious Pub Burgers. Oh. Man. The Four Horseman with bacon is so, so awesome. I can't believe I never knew about it before. I couldn't even finish mine, not because I was too full, but because the last third of the burger was left in ruins following a rather messy incident involving my sudden and irresistible urge to mate with it.

Standard tomfoolery followed, back to the condo for a little Family Guy, off to Oscar's for a little pool. I headed to bed early following a controversial decision to actually go to work today, but apparently everyone else was up into the wee hours of the night watching Adam Sandlar movies because I woke up at about 2:30 to Rob Schneider shouting "You can do eet ALLL NIGHT LOOONG!" Bitches.

Backing up, Wednesday night was pretty awesome. Kel had some foolish med school schmoozing function at the Carriage House which, despite the good things I have heard about the food, I was not looking forward to--I hate people, you see. But Kel surprised me, giving me directions instead to Sunny Italy where she had planned an intimate dinner date sans med school cronies. Great idea, poor results. The spaghetti tasted, in Kel's words "like I'd expect someone's ass to smell." Lovely! Fortunately the terrible, terrible food was slightly offset by the fact that we ran into THE Dr. James J. McKenna, who Kelly (in the spirit of the assignments he used to give us involving human reactions to unusual situations) may have asked to sign her spaghetti. Needless to say he punched her through the chest and ate her heart.

The weather is still so ridiculously awesome. There's a chance of PM showers tomorrow, but I can handle that as long as it stays warm. Tennessee apparently sucks now, so they should give us no trouble--better go buy your blue hair dye.

My Pick:

ND: SuperPub
Tennessee: Famine

Why Are We All Strongbad?

Shut up, that's why! Also because when I was messing with my comments yesterday I couldn't figure out how to display profile pics. Now I've pretty much lost interest, so you'll likely be Strongbad for a while. Suck it!

What Time Is It??

Halfway through the week to gametime (HUH!), and the glorious weather is still holding strong! It's a wee bit nippy, but still pretty awesome for November in the Bend. Beaucoup alumni in this weekend, most notable in terms of visit frequency being Jism J. Jisington III (Esquire), arriving early tomorrow for sweet CJs action. My friend, by way of welcome back into the Bend's loving and oddly sensual embrace, please enjoy the following poem, which I shall call:

Ode To Jism

Oh Jism, 5th roommate of the Animal House
So many nights we'd stay in and get soused
Or go to the Backer, remember the time
You floordanced with Bass and got covered in grime?
Or when I peed in the woods due to beer I'd ingested
And you called with concern after I'd been arrested
You'd always be up for a smooth belly rub
Or shotgunning warm PBR in the tub
Now you live in DC, it's been almost 2 years
But you'll be back tomorrow--now let's drink some beers

Holy crap, I'm the greatest poet that ever lived! You can't step to my mad poetry skills! And why would you want to? It could only mean your destruction.

Um, anyway...other notables include Dave, Lauren, LB, Ze Cock and Christine, Ben and Amy Pawlowicz, and...probably some other people I forgot. Sorry, you're all repeat visitors--no poem for you!

Oh man, check out my little niece in a pumpkin patch!

I'm sorry if your head just exploded from cuteness overload. If you're still alive, please enjoy this less cute but equally hilarious still from ESPN:

Yes my friend, I think we can all agree that Lee Corso is, indeed, a penis.

So who's up for a madcap scheme? Bowl trip this year? Oose? Because I am so down with being there for the first Irish bowl victory since...what, 94?...so down that it's sick. Sick and twisted, like when Radar and Frenchie made out on my porch. Or when they put nipples on the batsuit.

Here's To The Sluts

No, not all you loose ladies out there, you make Baby Jesus cry. I'm talking about my old section mates, the 3B Sluts of O'Neill Hall. One of my extremely few regrets from my college days is that I didn't spend more time hanging around the dorm--too busy at the nerdery with my band chums. And by the nerdery I mean...various drinking establishments. Anyway, although I never really became part of the group, the Sluts still hold a special place in my pants. Take, for example--

--Corey, who had a million stories, all of which started with either 'Okay, so we were really drunk" or, more commonly "Okay, so we were ****ing."

--D-Give, who snapped my neck like a slim-jim for allegedly releasing some unseemly information about him on the internet.

--Adam, who answered yes to the "Have crapped your pants in the past 5 years?" question on the purity test.

--Dave Arch, creator of the Arch Deluxe. The Arch Deluxe has been removed from circulation, in Dave's words, "for the good of the world"--but it will always live on in my deepest nightmares. Even reading about it could cause you to projectile vomit all over your screen, let us just say I have seen parts of Dave man was never meant to see. And so has my mom. Thanks for slipping that picture into the pile, Dave.

--LB...too many atrocities to list.

--Nolan, who asked for (and got) a wheelchair for Christmas because he was "tired of walking everywhere". Everyone's hands were pretty shredded from getting them caught in the spokes during wheelchair time trials, but it was widely agreed to be worth it.

--CM, who filled a whole door with cartoon spermys in a hilariously short time, earned one by one each time he was caught, um, indulging himself.

--BR, who got roaringly drunk with amazing frequency and, God bless him, ended up naked every time.

Other happy memories include: that weird game we played in the hall with a rolled up tape ball. Covering the walls of our room, one by one, with coors light cases. I don't think our TV reception ever actually improved, but by God we claimed it did, often and enthusiastically. The grossest bathroom EVER after we all had to take those menengitis pills that turned your pee orange--everyone thought it was too cool looking to flush. Winning $100 off a single series of Mario Kart. Ditka savagely beating LB after being locked out of the room for several hours. Dom, our RA, beating us with his shoes.

Ha! I just realized this was one of those entries that's extremely boring to everyone but me. You're going to jail.