Thursday Night Diary: Kinda Weird Edition

So I decided to attempt to do a diary of last Thursday night.  This is the result, with annotations to try to explain what the hell actually happened.  I apologize for the short length of the entries from that night, but typing about what your doing on a cellphone while you’re out drinking for your blog seems progressively dumber by the minute while it’s happening.  Hence the annotations.

6:42 pm: Standard pregame of Nazi Zombies, absinthe and beer.  Family size box of mac and cheese not sitting well.

So I brought back a bottle of absinthe from Italy like every American college kid to visit Europe ever, and decided since last week was one of the last Thursdays in college for a lot of my friends, we might as well go out with a bang.  Throw in some beers and some Nazi Zombies, and suddenly you’re having yourself a real nice little night.  Who knows, maybe we’ll even hang out with some girls tonight?  As for the family size box of mac and cheese, I have no excuse for that.  

I’ll Take You Right Into the Dangerzoneeeee

Well after a horrendous week full of pretending to not be a lazy degenerate, the weekend is finally here.  Praise Allah, because if I had to give one more goddamn powerpoint presentation I was gonna snap and permanently move into the mountains and just live out my life stockpiling weapons and food for the zombie apocalypse.

Anyways, this may be entirely too ambitious, but I’m going to attempt to keep a running diary tonight of a standard Thursday night adventure into R.J. Bentley’s Filling Station, right here in College Park, MD.  Of course the odds of this succeeding are about as high as De Moss getting into medical school, but for the sake of literature and science, dammit I’m giving it a shot.  Rev up the engines and lets gooooo…..

Chafing Abroad: A Classless American’s Guide To Rome

So a few weeks ago I was lucky enough to take a second spring break and go and meet up with my sister, who is studying abroad in Rome for the semester.  Now I was lucky enough to travel to Europe a few times when I was a fat kid, but sadly I was a dumb American fat kid who had just discovered the glory of Pokemon Red for GameBoy color, so much of the rich culture and history of places like Paris, France were sacrificed in the name of getting my Metapod to evolve so I could stop using shitty “Harden” for every attack.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), I grew up into an average American guy, one who is adequately educated through numerous public education institutions and can remember enough ninth grade history to know that Rome is pretty important for various reasons.  I also saw Eurotrip one time in 2004 so, with “Scottie Doesn’t Know” blasting from my iPod, I departed from Dulles Airport.

In lieu of boring everyone to the point that they slowly jam plastic forks into both their eyes by just talking about the sites I visited in Rome (SICK BRO!) I decided to compile a guide for other American idiots to go over and survive their time in Rome.

1. Wear UnderArmor Spandex as Much As Possible

Knowing that I would probably have to walk for periods of greater than 10 minutes at a time, I knew that chafing on my legs was a definite possibility.  Spandex is a must for pretty much any form of continued movement, but luckily I fucking suck and didn’t bring any.  Big.  Fucking.  Mistake.

On vacations like this, you expect to walk.  What I didn’t expect is just how goddamn much my suddenly active and mobile sister thought was acceptable.  Easily probably walked 4-5 miles a day.  Not only was visible swamp ass a very real possibility, my inner thighs started to look like the victims of a car-bombing in Iraq.  By the end of my second day there, I had to walk like a fucking moron just to alleviate the pain, bringing further embarrassment to America’s already pathetic reputation abroad.  Do yourself a favor and bring a pair of Spandex with you next time you take on the city of Rome.

Day Drink

(I know this is two words, but its sorta not I guess…shit)

As spring comes into full swing, it becomes increasingly difficult to not notice that anytime a Friday or Saturday afternoon is semi-sunny and above 70 degrees, suddenly half the people you know start aggressively drinking and blasting music.  Maybe this is reflective of the pathetic people who I surround myself with, maybe it’s reflective of the downfall of modern American youth.  I don’t really give a shit.

But holy horseshit does it piss me off when I hear people say things like, “You gonna day drink today?”  Or the horrible, horrible (usually from girls) “I was at day drink before and…”

Now don’t get me wrong, drinking during the day when it’s nice outside is phe-fucking-nomenal.  Not only are there a ton of great activities you can do, the weather is great, the girls are wearing less clothes and god it just feels good sometimes.  But shit, the term day drink(ing) is just so dumb.  It’s like saying instead of going out to dinner you went “night eating.”  Like somehow including the time of your drinking makes it anything different.  If I call you at noon and you’re slurring all of your words and dropping racial slurs every other sentence, I can connect the dots.  You don’t need a PhD to know if somebody has a BAC north of 2.0.

Listen, drinking is drinking, no matter what time it is.  Drinking a fifth of bourbon at 2pm and staggering around drunk outside is just mildly less confusing for you than doing so at night, not much more.  If you’re ashamed that you’re drinking 15 beers while its daylight on a weekend and have to give it some cool name, don’t do it.  Everyone’s got their vices, and some people just enjoy walking around shitfaced while normal people are at work and are being productive.  It’s obviously awesome, so embrace it and tell people you’re drinking.  Leave the time out of it.

Being Uncomfortable: A Look at My Four Years at UMCP in Pictures

Besides this, no text.   To go out of my comfort zone, no text, humorous comments or anything.  Just a photographic look at how college ages the body oh so bad.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Class.

 

 

ESPN is Punishing Us Because They Couldn’t Afford the TV Rights to Men’s March Madness

To millions of men in America, ESPN is a television staple.  While channel surfing, ESPN has got to be one of the first three channels you check, and late at night, probably every other man is woo’d to sleep by Scott Van Pelt making pop-culture references as the highlights of another Knicks loss floats across their screen.

March Madness should ESPN’s time to shine.  What better network to cover the multitude of games going on at once than the world’s biggest sports network, owning multiple channels to allow us to watch any game we want live.  Yet somehow ESPN missed out on acquiring the TV rights, which is bad enough, but then decide to try to remedy this by shoving Women’s NCAA basketball games down our throat all goddam day.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I’m all for women playing sports, competing, etc.  That and US law kinda mandates this equality, so I won’t waste time arguing about Title IX or anything.  But holy horsetits ESPN, you really feel the need to jam this crap down our throats?

The women’s NCAA tournament has got to be the worst thing ESPN has ever crapped out of Bristol, Conn.  Yeah yeah, we get it that they’re all fired up and play hard and even dunk once or twice a year.  Neat.  Mediocre level boy’s high school basketball gives you the same package, but at least one of them might turn out to one day play in the NBA.  Not here.

Let’s take a look at the box score for an opening round game that featured 9th-seeded St. Johns taking on 8th-seeded Texas Tech.  8-9 battles are usually a safe bet for entertainment in the men’s tournament, here, not so much.  A 55-50 upset that featured THREE players with double digit point totals, 47 points scored in the second half and six people driven to suicide by waking up with this blaring on their television screen.

To be clear again, this is not an attack on women’s sports (Prof. Lindemann please read that part again), but an indictment on ESPN for forcing this sub-par entertainment onto us.  Girls can play all the inter-collegiate basketball they’re terrifyingly large hearts desire, but please, for the love of slackers/drunks watching TV at noon on a weekday, stay off our biggest sports network, or at least stay on ESPN2.

What is particularly infuriating is how ESPN now feels the need to try to talk up the women’s tournament like it’s such an intense event.  Listen, when the best program in women’s bball history can’t even get people to show up to their tournament games, clearly the product on the court is just not very entertaining.  As Deadspin says in one of their latest articles, “…we’re talking about a competition in which a No. 2 seed reaching the Final Four is about as mad as March Madness gets around here.”

Finally, I don’t think I could bring up women’s college basketball without mentioning the biggest star, Brittney Griner.  Griner, who uses all of her natural talent (she is 6’8) to set the women’s record for blocks in a tournament (she is 6’8), dominate in the paint (she is 6’8) and slam dunk a couple of times (she is 6’8), has been lavished with praise from talking heads all over ESPN, with some people even bringing up the question of if she could play in the NBA. Yeah uh, hold on a second there.  According to Wikipedia, which is always right, she weighs 175lbs.  So you’re trying to tell me that somebody who weighs 175lbs and is only 6’8 could play as a forward in the NBA?  Yeah, I’m sure she’d be great at standing tall in the lane as Ama’re Stoudamire barrels through her.  And I can see her blocking a Pau Gasol layup, roaring in his face afterwards with all the grace of the woman she is.

Nah.  Listen, it’s easy to dominate basketball when you’re almost a foot taller than everyone else on the court.  Two years ago I worked at a park and a group of 9th graders asked me to play in their pickup game with them.  Guess what?  I fucking dominated those idiots.  You kidding me?  It’s super easy when you’re 6’1 and they’re big man is 5’8.  Miss a layup?  No problem, just jump again and easily get your own rebound.  And thats essentially what Brittney Griner does.  Sure those Division I athletes she plays against might be a little bit better than the freshmen I dominated, but basketball sure is easy when you’re the tallest player on the court.

There is light at the end of the tunnel though.  Thursday brings baseball, and with baseball comes Baseball Tonight, and things will be so very, very OK.

Getting McGangbanged

Pretty much every fast food chain has its own “secret menu”. Some items the gracious workers will prepare for you, but sometimes your request is just too immoral for their minimum wage souls to handle.  Requests such as…the McGangbang.

The McGangbang has become sort of an internet phenomenon in the last few years.  Many blogs have featured this beast, and as soon as I heard about it, I had to try it.  For those of you without high blood pressure, a McGangbang consists of The McChicken sandwich combined with a double-cheeseburger from McDonald’s.  As both of these items are on the dollar menu, this is a perfect way to satiate your need to not reach your 60th birthday while also being frugal.

Yeah we got Mcnuggets too. Dammit.

 

As I said before, the McDonald’s employees will refuse to put this all together for you, at least in College Park, MD.  No worries, luckily I’m basically college educated/a man so assembling a sandwich is almost as natural as playing sports and driving for me.  Now other people sometimes leave all four pieces of bread on this bad boy, but in the interest of cutting carbs, I took the McChicken’s top bun off.  Then I threw on some fries and smothered on some sweet and sour sauce.  Yeah, whatever.  The result was this bad boy:

 

Boom

At first bite, you are sort of overwhelmed.  So many flavors hit you at once, it’s hard to tell exactly what you’re eating.  Sort of like if you threw a few types of meat into a blender, thats about all I can say about the taste.  I can compare it to combining different Starburst flavors together, if Starburst were made of over-processed meat and carbs.

Perhaps the best way to describe the McGangbang, though, is from eatmedaily.com:

“It’s kind of like having a threesome with two ugly chicks. While it’s happening you’re stoked, because hey threesome!!! But once you’re finished it kinda sinks in about what you’ve done.”

The agony you will feel in your stomach cannot be accurately described in words.  If you’re a guy, it’s about equal to getting kicked in the nuts with a steel-toed boot.  For the ladies. it’s like getting roundhouse-kicked in your throat.  Is it worth it?  Yeah sure, why not.  Just be sure you’re near a bathroom afterwards.

WTF is This For?

 

Not to dwell on bathroom happenings again, but WTF is this for?  Using the bathroom above the South Campus diner, which hasn’t been updated since the football team was desegregated, I see this…thing at the end of a row of urinals.  Like, what could this possibly be for?  You have about a 4 foot space to work with right here, which is complete overkill.  Nobody has aim that bad.  Seriously, about the only thing I could see using this is one of the aliens from District 9.  Handicapped people have the stall, we have the urinals…it’s gotta be 9 foot tall prawns this is for, right?

If anything, this is just inviting douchebags like myself to poop in the urinals.  Not a smart decision by UMD.  You could practically sit down and finish the Sunday New York Times while party-logging this bad boy.  I just feel bad for the janitors over the years who have to clean this bathroom.  How many times do you think they’ve had to reach in and clean this thing with the amount of douchers put through this school over the years?  And for that I have to say:   Lo siento compadres.

Two and a Half Men: The Most Mediocre Show on Television

7pm on a Wednesday night is the ultimate watching shitty tv time.  Nothing to do, it’s almost the weekend and you’re in the midst of an intense laying session.  Of course, network tv is horrendous, and you settle on Two and a Half Men because, well, Charlie Sheen is in the midst of a 6-month bender and you just enjoy seeing the man be a smug dirtbag and walk around in cargo shorts the whole time.

 

Winning?

 

Then you stand back and realize something spine-chilling:  This is one of the most successful shows on television.  Charlie Sheen, that prophet/cokehead, makes over a million dollars an episode playing himself.  His ambiguously gay brother whines the whole time, and his fat idiot son makes jokes about sex and eating a lot (LOL) and all of a sudden you just lose the will to live, let alone pick up the remote and change the channel.

Perhaps this is why the show attained such high ratings, as well as why nobody freaking cares that the show is now essentially cancelled.  For years, Two and a Half Men was the background noise on the tv as you cooked dinner, wrote a paper, contemplated suicide, etc.  With humor that really only appeals to people under the age of 15 and over the age of 60, most people belonging to the age groups that matter just couldn’t be bothered to care.  And because of this, one of the most successful sitcoms of the last decade or so will fade away with little fanfare or protest.  Crappy shows like Las Vegas at least have a handful of idiots who write to the network to try to save their douchey shows; Two and a Half Men has NOBODY.

Two and a Half Men will end, Charlie Sheen will die, and nobody will care.

1.51 Billion Dollars Doesn’t Buy What It Used To

A few times every month, it inevitably happens.  I get persuaded by my fat friends and fellow members of the Fat Council to suffer through a 20 minute walk to Stamp to engage in a food orgy at the campus McDonald’s or Chick-fil-A.  After I fill the cockles of my heart with even more plaque, I stupidly decide I’m in good enough shape to head to my last class of the day.

Of course, being that fast food from Mickey D’s or Chick has the effect of chugging a bottle of Exlax on my stomach, an emergency, terrible dump is in order, with my only options being the dreaded public bathroom.  Now, I’m not a coward(when it comes to bodily functions at least), so pooping in a public toilet is nothing too daunting for me.  And ever since they banned that guy who used to diarrhea all over the floor of the men’s bathrooms from McKeldin, dropping bombs on campus has been a semi-enjoyable experience.  Except of course, for the conclusion…

Wiping.

Hoooollllyyy shit.  I’ve never been to prison, but I can tell you right away that my ass knows what it’s like.  What the hell is UMD’s problem?  With a budget of $1.51 billion, why the tits can’t they buy some toilet paper that is not cut from a sheet of the most jagged, unforgiving sandpaper known to man?  And not only does it have the consistency of sandpaper, it also somehow is as thin as the skin of a hemophiliac.  So not only do you wind up shredded and feeling like you just spent a week sharing a cell with Bubba in Riker’s Island, you also end up with this terrible poo-rape matter all over your hands.   Fucking terrible.

Now, how about instead of wasting money on building gardens on-top of university buildings and funding horrible SGA-related things that nobody will ever care about, UMD puts some money where the sun don’t shine and give our bungholes a break.  We already get bent over by tuition price, housing and textbook pricing.  Let us enjoy the TP at least.