Sometimes I'm Pathetic in Rockledge

The following blog post was written by Joe K***, and reflects his thoughts and opinions during the time it was written. Looking back, he doesn’t stand by what he wrote anymore, for various reasons. Please read an explanation HERE. This blog post will remain published as more of a time capsule of how immature or wrongheaded I was. I do not agree with certain things that are written below. People change. I’ve changed. I am sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love my town... but does my town love me? Read on to find out.

above: Gordon is watching!!

So, as it turns out, I drink a lot. And while I consider myself a fun-loving person while intoxicated, and I treat my friends with respect (most of the time) wherever my BAC level is at, still, sometimes I... act out. Perhaps no one has felt the brunt of these inebriated actions than the local business around the Rockledge/Fox Chase area.

Since I'm quite bored on this last day of break, I want to spin the tale of five businesses that operate in and around my town, and what I did to fuck up my once sterling reputation in these fine establishments.

A) 7 Eleven, Huntingdon Pike

This is probably the least of all evils when compared to the others, but still worth discussing. A few friends and I are driving back from a keg one night last spring break (I am not the D.D.), and for some reason we stop at this particular 7 Eleven. I'm being a drunken load, so my good friend Clig decides to take advantage of my condition, and tells me to "go steal a Twix bar" for him. So I walk in, stuff eight Twix bars, two Tastykake pies, and a Slim Jim into my pocket, then try paying for a banana.

The guy asks me, "Is that it?" And I say yea, yea it is. We both look over to the door, and a cop walks in, looking to buy a late-night pretzel. The cashier looks at me, looks down at my bulging pockets, and says, "What about all that stuff?" I say, oh yeah, uh... forgot about that stuff. I empty my left pocket. He says, "Well, what about that stuff?" And I say, oh yeah, uh... this stuff too. And I empty out my right pocket. And I have no choice but to pay for it all.

I gotta say, it could've been a lot worse, with the cop there. The cashier could've had me arrested. I got off easy, it seems, even though I paid $18 for what was originally just supposed to be one Twix bar. Oh, and I got banned. I blame Mike C.

B) Joseph's Restaurant

You may ask yourself, how did Joe manage to get himself banned from a restaurant that usually closes hours before Joe even starts drinking? You'd be surprised.

The Flyers are in the playoffs, and I decide to have a few people over to watch the game over a few brews. A "few" quickly turns into "many" and the ten guys packed in my basement are mangled and restless. This calls for a quick jaunt to Wawa.

On the way to Wawa, everyone is being rowdy and belligerent. We're knocking over trash cans, punching street signs, yelling and basically being obnoxious. To cap it all off, in front of the closed Joseph's restaurant there's a huge flowerpot, so of course I topple it over and we all run away.

Now, mind you, this place has been closed for at least four hours now, so granting that no cops saw my deeds, I should be safe, right? Not quite. We're walking back from Wawa, and someone taps me on the shoulder and says, "dude, look in there!"

Inside the restaurant, there's a big hairy Italian dude, just standing in the dark, staring at us. Just staring, with big menacing eyes. We all walk a little quicker.

We're walking past the 7 Eleven parking lot now, and a car comes out of nowhere and cuts us off. It's the dude from Joseph's! He grabs my cousin Harry by the shirt out of his car window and screams at him, "Why did you do it, punk? Huh?! You're gonna pay!" We all yell, "Oh shit! Harry, RUN!!!" And we all book it. The dude then proceeds to try to RUN US OVER by driving his car across the sidewalk, chasing after us! If it wasn't for the big sign in front the flower shop, one of my little group would have spent the night in the emergency room.

Instead, we all get away, we laughed for hours, and no one has been back to Joseph's since.

C) Wawa on Oxford

The thing about a lot of these places is that the same freaking people work the night shift every night of the week, so after a while, they start to recognize the belligerent tall Irish kid that's causing trouble. The man that I make angry at Wawa is known as Gordon.

Gordon wears yellow-tinted shades, is bald, and perpetually works the night shift at Wawa. He's become sort of a local legend in this town, and it was until this past year that we loved him and he loved us. Now I'm not even allowed near the place past nine o'clock.

It was the same night that I got busted at 7 Eleven, and we're outside Wawa, being idiots. When we're about to leave, I get a burst of energy, and knock over the big cigarette container; cigarette buds go all over the parking lot, leaving Gordon with a hell of a lot more work to do before the sun comes up.

I walk in two weeks later during Easter break, and he flips out on me. "It was you and your goddamn friends that did that, wasn't it?!" He yells. I say, very calmly, no man, I've been at school for ages now, it couldn't have been me. He just let's it go.

And, of course, I wasn't in the right state of my mind, so I just go around the store and pick-pocket about ten random items. Not a word. The next night, I'm in there again, and again my persuading friend Clig tells me to "steal some cashews" for him. So I grab a bag and go in the bathroom. When I'm done, I come out to find Gordon just chilling there, yelling at me "You took something from that rack, didn't you!?" And I deny it and walk out.

One more incident to end it all: I order a sandwich, and instead of paying for it, I walk out, take my buddy's pen, scribble on the receipt, and hand it in as if I paid for it. I enjoyed my sandwich in peace, thinking I got away with it. Alas, I walked in a week later and Gordon yelled, "There's the sandwich kid! Get him!" And I've been banned ever since.

D) Dunkin' Donuts

Five events culminated in my banning from this place. And unlike the other establishments in the area, this is a blanket ban: both day and night, it's off-limits.

—One afternoon on a snow day, we decide to pregame sledding. And as we found out that day, you are NOT allowed to bring a case of Milwaukee's Best into DD.

—Also, you are not allowed to smoke cigars in the Dunkin. I'm surprised we didn't set the fire alarms off.

—I stole a 100 Grand bar from Wawa once, and instead of eating it like a normal human being, I used it to scribble on the window of Dunkin' Donuts.

—One time I bought a cranberry juice and a sandwich. I accidentally spilled the juice all over the floor, and bolted out the door. A few of my friends stayed behind, and a worker came up to them and said, "Joe K*** did this, didn't he?! Never again!!" I'm still not really sure how they knew my name...

—I was coming back from a rainy keg one night. My sister had attended as well and subsequently gotten in trouble by my parents for tracking mud in the house. I decided to take precautionary measures. I stopped in DD. The boys bathroom was closed for repairs, so the guy let me in the girls bathroom. I put my sneakers in the sink to clean them off. Apparently, that got mud all over the sink, the floor, and the walls. I left the bathroom, and the guy who let me in says to me, "C'mon man, what the hell!" My response? "Why would I be in there? That's the girls' bathroom."

So, because of all this, whenever I walk past Dunkin' Donuts, everyone will stop what they are doing and just stare at me. I kid you not. I get scared, sometimes.

E) Oxford Beer Distributor

The irony runs deep. What should be the only establishment that legitimately has a reason to keep me out is the only one in this town to welcome me with open arms.

When I walk into Oxford Beer, I don't have the glaring eyes of every employee, I don't have Gordon yelling at me, I don't have a cop watching my back, and I don't have a big scary Italian man staring me down from the dark depths of a pizzeria. What I do have is a kindly old couple that sells me anything I'd like to buy. They have smiles on their faces when I walk in. They give me free merchandise. They love me, and I love Oxford Beer.

In a town that has turned against me—perhaps rightly so—I'm glad I'm still allowed in the place I frequent the most.

Sometimes Rockledge Is Pathetic

photo courtesy of The Globe

Okay, Rockledge is less than a square mile in area, and can be considered a very small suburb, so you'd expect petty problems to make a big impact at those pivotal town hall meetings, like how Mrs. Jones has a dog that won't stop shitting on the corner of Blake and Montgomery, or how Old Man Thompson plays his music too loud, or how the town is useless now that they took away the mailbox south of Jarrett Ave. But really... this is ridiculous.

My town wants to take pride in itself and look nice, so they built these new crosswalks on every corner. I think they look pretty nice. Of course, for every idea there are always the obligatory naysayers, and this is no different. Really, though, you're making a big stink about crosswalks?

See what one batshit crazy resident of my borough had to say in The Globe this week: "They made me dizzy trying to cross the pike and I almost felt as if I would fall into a hole or lose my balance. It's a true optical illusion in motion," she says. She better be thankful they didn't pave the streets with the new Animal Collective album cover.

Another colorblind chick got "dizzy" while she was driving: "This is very distracting to me when I drive at night." Not sure how a black-and-white crosswalk could be much trouble to a colorblind person?!

We can all sit back and laugh at these kooks. I mean, there's an economic crisis almost as bad as the Great Depression, crime rates are still pretty high in Philly, and global warming will one day drown this great neighborhood by melting the ice caps... and you are bitching and moaning about the patterns on the street corner?! Get a life.

But then this nutso got serious and now it's no laughing matter. According to The Globe, her plan of action is as follows: "If the borough forgoes certain expenses, like the Fourth of July Parade, she is confident funds can be raised to redo the crosswalks." Are you fucking serious? Get rid of the parade, an annual tradition beloved by the whole neighborhood, a tradition that brings us all together in peace and harmony on a warm summer day, just so you can stop getting your little migraines when you can't handle a simple pattern in the street? Not a chance.

The Globe should be ashamed for even giving this garbage any acknowledgment at all. If we don't have any Fourth of July festivities this summer, there'll be a fresh two dozen eggs in my backpack, and one house in particular will be served sunny-side up.

Food and sleep: My kinda holiday.

As it bleeds into Turkey Day morning, we here at PoYB want to extend warm wishes to you and yours this holiday season. We encourage you to eat up, drink down, watch some pigskin, and continue to enjoy the loads of mindless entertainment that PoYB continues to supply.

As a holiday treat, I will now compile for you an assorted list that I, Amanda Lynn B**, feel truly thankful for. (In absolutely no particular order):

A Big Ol’ Cuddly Hug-O-Thanks to the following:

• Bagels.
• Scattergories.
• St. Basil 248 (and the ultra sassy women who inhabit it).
• the torturous band of miscreants that live across the hallway (sometimes).
• over-the-counter sleep aids.
• remembering to take out my contacts before bed (which I never do, so I’m happy when this rare event occurs).
• cheesy eggs from Treetops.
• Michael’s diner.
• Attack & Release.
• Wild Turkey.
• Jesus.
• trampolines.
• To Catch a Predator.
• The Mountain Goats.
• chocolate soy milk.
• the beloved Asian couple of Cold Beer.
• Shadowboxer.
• the song “Shadowboxer”.
• music journalism.
• parties at La Salle (oh wait, never mind... we don’t have any of those. Scratch that.)
• my rain boots (have you SEEN them?)
• ”A Day in the Life”.
• David Sedaris.
• my continued sanity to this point of my nearly 20 years.

To play devil’s advocate, here is an alternative list of things that deserve absolutely no thanks:

NO thanks to:

• vegan cheese.
• Statistics.
• my music teacher.
• the bastards that took my and Kait’s instruments at Arcadia.
• global warming (don’t know anything about it, but it seems terrible. So... ahem... BOO! HISS!)
• the actual predators on To Catch a Predator.
• wet socks.
• insomnia.
• the divorce of Reese and Ryan.
• sweet potatoes (We just don’t hang well, SP and I.)
• the guy who stole my prom camera.

….you suck!

That’s it folks. Have a safe and sexy T-Day.

My Secret Degrassi Shame, Part II

above: my dignity, restored

Last month, I pathetically admitted that I enjoy Degrassi: The Next Generation more than an average boy my age should. I'll sit there in my dorm room watching the show and get absolutely berated by my roommates at the audacity of my watching this trash. Fuck, I know, it's true, it's a disgrace. When I tell people I watch Degrassi, they show nothing but utter dismay at my decisions. But there I was, ready to defend it until the day I die.

Not anymore.

Okay, it was great for a while. Hell, it was so great, I wasted literally days watching this nonsense. I got into it probably the middle of September. It is now the middle of November and I have finished over seven seasons of the show. Let's say the average season is twenty episodes, and the average episode is twenty-two minutes. That means that in the past two months, I have watched over 3080 minutes of Degrassi in my sophomore year of college. Remember that time I got the shit kicked out of me at that frat house? Maybe I deserved it.

The funny thing is, for seven fucking seasons I defended the show. I defended it despite the nonsensical plotline developments, the unstable yet gargantuan main cast, and the terrible acting. But season eight was just too much for me. I can no longer defend this series.

Canada gets a lot of shit from its sister to the south, and maybe there is no way to get back any dignity it has already lost. Still, though, Canada, you have to do the whole Western Hemisphere a favor and end Degrassi after this season. Please, for my sanity. Please.

In my drunken stupor, let me try to explain why this is just too much.

First of all, as is the case with all quasi-realistic school-life TV shows, the writers find themselves fucked in the ass, since all the main characters are aging just as they would in real life. However, once they graduate, what the fuck are you supposed to do? It's a major issue, and it's one that the writers of Degrassi handled poorly.

Firstly. they cheated when they held at least half of the Season 5 graduating class back from graduating at all. Jimmy "didn't have enough credits" because of his wheelchair, Spinner was a dumbass and repeated a grade, Ashley was in England and thus got held back, and Alex was "a graduated student, but returned to get better grades." All of this is utter bullshit and is obviously just an excuse to return a few main characters and still have the majority of the action happen in the school that the show is named after.

Meanwhile, Paige, Ellie, and Marco all go off to college, and the show inexplicably follows them there, though all ties from the actual Degrassi school have been cut.

So at the beginning of Season 6, the writers of the show are shitting their pants because the producers want probably a few more seasons out of them, and all their main stars are set to graduate at the end of the year—and there is no way that they are going to hold all these students back from graduating, because they already pulled that card last year.

The bitches bitch out and extend the school year. Every season previous contains one full school year. Season 6, however, only covers the first semester of Emma and gang's senior year, and Season 7 will have the second semester.

To make matters so, so, so much worse, Season 7 introduces new characters. Too many new characters. A neighboring school "burns down" and Degrassi houses all these new students. Thus, many new characters are given a legitimate—though flimsy—reason to all of a sudden show up on the roster of main stars. It's painfully obvious that the writers are preparing to keep these new characters on board for seasons to come once all the old ones graduate.

And so we have the shitshow that is Season 8. The characters that we previously followed to college—Ellie, Paige, Marco—all hook up with each other (not an exaggeration), and then disappear from the Degrassi universe. Meanwhile, Emma, Manny, and Liberty are the new college kids, and they are involved in the dumb-as-shit plotlines that happen hours away from Degrassi Community School. And, in the worst move in Canadian television history, one of my favorite shows adds about two dozen new, unknown, random fucking characters to the show.

First of all, I grew to like the characters of Craig, Jimmy, Paige, Toby, etc. Degrassi was enjoyable because of the people that were involved. Just because they all graduated doesn't mean you can forget about them.

Secondly—fuck man, this second decision adds salt to the wounds of loss and grief. Marco is gone, so you add a homosexual character whom I don't care about. J.T. is dead, so you add a class clown whom I don't care about. Liberty is a disgusting sorority chick now, so you add a smart stuck-up nerd whom I don't care about.

What the writers did was take all the characters we knew and loved, erased them, and added unknowns to the cast who 1) we don't give a shit about, and 2) have the SAME fucking stereotypes that the original cast had.

Paige = Holly J. Hazel = Anya. Jimmy = Sav. J.T. = Derek. Liberty = Clare. Toby = Connor. Alli = Manny. Blue = Craig. Riley = Marco. Johnny = Sean. Spinner = Spinner. (Yes, Spinner is THAT GUY who still works at the local café and still chills with the high school kids. From a storytelling perspective, I'm glad we have an oldhead around, but from an emotional perspective, it's like, dude, just let go.)

Not only that, but they've run out of issues to cover. We have already seen every fucking teen drama issue that you can possibly imagine over the course of this series. Pot, drinking, coke, anorexia, stealing, engagement, dyslexia, cancer, school shootings, school rivalry, murder, ADHD, cheating, pregnancy with abortion, pregnancy with adoption, pregnancy false scare, OD, drug dealing, attempted suicide, finding Jesus, losing your virginity, online gambling, house parties, child services, oatmeal, and male cheerleading.

The only thing that can possibly be done now is simply repeat the same goddamn issues with different characters. Sadly, this is exactly what they've been doing. Well, okay, fine, they have come up with some new issues, but really... when you have a B-plot that involves finding Spike's vibrator, we're crossed some kind of line. We're just grasping at straws.

I've gone on long enough. I've written so fucking much about Degrassi that I may never be able to show my face again on the mean streets of Northeast Philadelphia. But still... it just makes me mad, and I had to drunkenly rant about it.

They killed a show that, despite it's gaping flaws, I still enjoyed. They took it, and they tore it wider than Marco's sphincter after a three-year relationship with Dylan. They raped this show more than Darcy at the ski trip. They fucked this show harder than Emma's mouth in that van in the Ravine when she contracted gonorrhea. They killed this show worse that when rival school Lakehurst stabbed J.T. in the back for dating Drake's ex-girlfriend. They beat the shit out of this show worse than Derek cowardly did to that chick Jane just because she joined the football team. They punched the shit out of this show worse than Craig did to his step-father Joey because Craig had bipolar.

This show is dead. I will never watch is again, no matter how many times Canadian television renews it. Never.

Bigmouth strikes again. (I'm baaaccckk.)

Above: Mandy B** embraces single-ness and a new look.

I’m giving up on men.

I won’t lie to you, fair readers, but I’ve been lonely.

And not lonely in that “Oh boo-hoo I’m depressed” way, but lonely in that everyone around me is holdin’ hands and makin’ plans, and I’m curled up in a little undateable ball. It seems like how much I try, how cute I try to look, the boys are just not coming a knockin’.

I think this may have something to do with my maturity level. Maybe I, despite my infinite awesomeness, cannot handle a relationship.

I once watched this movie (not sure what it’s called, but I have a vague recollection of Steve Martin and a black mustache...) that gave advice to dateless little twits like me. In it, the main character is advised to take precautionary steps to see if he is in fact, relationship ready.

First, he is told to buy a plant. He is told to care for it, and love it, and be committed to it like it is an other of significance. If he succeeds, he is told to get a dog and follow the same patterns. If he can care for both of these things and not maim and/or kill them, then he is in fact ready for a relationship.

Desperate and tired of looking to Cosmo, I decided to adopt this theory. I went to IKEA. I bought two plants. I watered them lovingly. I named them (Scootch and Rapunzel, FYI). I talked to them. Hell, I introduced them to my Mom. Still, though, Scootch’s days wore thin and she ended up in an eternal grave out my Saint Basil window. Rapunzel hangs on, but I think she just feels sorry for me.

A dog? Don’t think so.

And that’s not all!

I’ve given every man a chance. I’ve talked to nerds. I’ve talked to…my fair share…of frat boys. I’ve talked to army men, musicians, gay men and freshmen. Still, nothing. For whatever reason, the big undateable “L” is in neon on my forehead, and it doesn’t plan on coming off anytime soon.

So you know what, men? I’ve decided to accept this. If you don’t want to date me, then I don’t want to date you. From now on, I plan to content myself on my tunes and my constant eating of cheese slices. I don’t need you, and your plans, and your excessive body hair.

I’m taking a page outta Sasha Fierce’s book, and proudly dancing to “Single Ladies.” So suck on that, conventions.

For your viewing pleasure:

 

 

My true girlfriend. You go, B.

Five Top Fives Friday!

I don't know what it is about us as Americans, but we just love to make lists. Whether it's a ranking of our favorites, a to-do list so you won't forget, or a Christmas list for Santa, we are obsessed with this notion of organizing things in a linear pattern. I'll admit, I love making lists as much as the next guy. In honor of this much adored pastime, I present you with an extra long edition of PoYB Top Five: Five Top Fives Friday!

Top Five Super Mario Enemies

I've been playing Super Mario for as long as I can remember, and I must say, accidentally hitting a Koopa and dying is one of the most frustrating things that can happen (especially because you hit the same fucking Koopa the past fucking ten times!).

5. Goomba

Goombas are the dumb fucks of the Mario Universe. They present absolutely no challenge. All you have to do is jump on their heads. They don't put up a fight; they are, in a word, pussies. The only reason Goombas made this list is because they are a joke, and I enjoy a good joke.

4. Rip Van Fish

These little buggers are annoying, as they chase after you in the water stages of Super Mario World, but any video game baddie whose name references a short story by Washington Irving earns points in my book.

3. Wiggler

It's that time of month with Wiggler when you stomp on its head: it gets all red and throws a hissy fit. I can empathize.

2. Bowser

How can we have a list such as this and not include Bowser? He is pretty much always the mastermind behind every evil plot hatched the Mario series, and he always *almost* gets away with it. And yet, you kind of feel bad for him, because all he wants is a friend, and Mario steals his friends away. He's just down on his luck, that's all.

1. Mouser

Only true Mario fans could understand how badass Mouser is. He was the little-known boss of the little-played Mario game Super Mario Bros. 2 (jk the game was a worldwide smash). He was a fucking mouse who wore sunglasses and threw bombs at that damn plumber that was stealing his vegetables. Incredible.

above: kicker of Mario's ass

Top Five Places I've Purchased Beer

This list is hypothetical, of course, since I'm not 21 and wouldn't dare try to buy beer if I were underage. It would be against the law, and thus, immoral.

5. Citizens Bank Park

Yes, the stadium sells a fucking beer for almost eight dollars, and no, sometimes it's not even ice cold, and yes, usually I'm too drunk to even recall how or why I bought one, but let's also remember the guy who sold it to me was a sucker. I had the shittiest fake ID in the world, and he accepted it. And the Phillies are supposed to be strict about this?

4. Copa Banana

It was my first bar experience, and it probably wouldn't have happened if the waitress hadn't attended one of my backyard parties, and so she felt like she owed me an illegal beer (or ten). Still, good friends, neon atmosphere, and pitchers and pitchers of beer always make a good time.

3. "The 40 Store"

I don't even think this place has a name. It just says "BEER ICE SNACKS" on the sign. It's under a bridge, and the elderly couple behind the counter never card anyone. They give you posters and candy for free. Best of all, Hurricanes are still $2.50 here, while every other forty shop has since raised their malt liquor prices to $2.75 due to the economic crisis.

2. Oxford Beverages

My local establishment, always stocked with the freshest beer at the cheapest prices. I must have given these folk at least $2000 in revenue this summer alone. No legendary summer night is complete without a pregame trip to Oxford. God bless them.

1. Grandma's Six-Pack Stop

First of all, the fact that there is a beer store with such a name (in Reading, of all places) earns it the number one spot right away. But what really earned them the #1 was how the lady behind the counter handled my arrival in her store. I walk up to the counter, she asks for ID, and I give my usual "Uh, I forgot mine, sorry." She goes on this big rant about how kids today think they can just break the law whenever they want. After all this, she sells the beer to me anyway, claiming: "But you better not come back, because I WILL card you next time." Five minutes later, we realize we need more beer, so I go back in. She doesn't look me in the eye, sells me the beer, and sends me on my way. So much for being a hardass.

above: my fake ID

Top Five Animal Characters on TV (cartoon or live action)

No, Brian from Family Guy will not be included.

5. Lassie

I feel like Lassie is too classic of an animal star to leave off the list, despite the fact I never really felt a connection to the mutt. He is so ingrained in our culture that everyone knows exactly what Timmy fell into—it's just common knowledge because of Lassie.

4. Yogi Bear

All he wanted was a fucking picnic basket. He didn't want to cause any harm. I wish that goddamn park ranger would get off his case.

3. The Nesquik Bunny

"Everybody move in, it's Pete's younger brother!"

2. Tiger (The Brady Bunch)

Probably the best actor on the show. It sucks that even cousin Oliver got more screen time than poor ol' Tiger.

1. Ralph the Dog

Goddamn, I love this dog. He's cool as shit, plays the piano, talks like Seth Rogen, and would totally get all the ladies if he weren't a puppet. Also, those floppy ears kick ass.

above: not Brian from Family Guy

Top Five Bob Dylan Songs

This is a pretty tough one, as there are so many songs to choose from. Not only that, but one's "favorite song" changes from day to day, so this list will probably be wrong by tomorrow. I'm not going to write any description either, so if you want to know the reason why I chose these songs, listen to them.

5. "Mr. Tambourine Man"

4. "Times They Are a-Changin'"

3. "Tangled Up in Blue"

2. "I Shall Be Released"

1. "Like a Rolling Stone"

above: opening act for Dylan's concert at the Lincoln Memorial

Top Five Jim C**** Moments

Ah, I love him to death, but back in the day he used to give us many, many stories to tell. Sorry some of them are inside jokes. A true PoYB reader will understand though.

5. "Haha, I get it—he peed on his hand!"

4. Jim steals the last roll on a camping trip, a roll that we need for a sandwich. He gets mad that we yell at him for this, so he throws the uneaten roll in the river.

3. Jim goes out with girlfriend for a year and kisses her once.

2. "I'm Irish, and I'll prove it!" Jim then proceeds to chug a beer. He then further proceeds to throw up the beer.

1. Jim earns the nickname "Trigger."

above: the man, the myth, the legend

Yes, This Is the "Obligatory Emo Post"

above: not school

If there's one thing that I don't really like about my emotions, it's that I'm the kind of guy who always wants what he can't have. Likewise, once I get something, I want something else. It's fucked up, but sometimes I can't help it.

I'm having a great time at school, I really am, but things are kind of slowing down. I'm in a lot of weird situations, shit that I don't want to be involved in, but alas, 'tis life (and romance).

And it sucks because this summer, staying at home, all I wanted was to get back to school. Now, I'm here and all I want to do is get back home. I want to play football at Burholme. I want to wake up early and do kegs and eggs. I want to have my mommy cook me breakfast and do my laundry. I want to be back at the Laf and see all my favorite old people. I want to chill in my garage with the Jedis and get hammered off Natty bottles and laugh about the stupid shit we always laugh about.

I'm sitting here with the prospect of many papers, tests, and assignments coming up in the next few weeks. I find myself staring at Facebook, which inexplicably told me this morning that my "Relationship Status" was "Single." I find myself getting ready to start drinking at four o'clock in the afternoon.

But it's okay! I somehow attempt to maintain a positive attitude. The thought of a Jedi Round Table in my family's garage truly is getting me through the next week and a half. The sun is shining, and all is well. Life could be worse.

Get those bottles of Natty ready, boys.