How to be a College Guy or How to do Nothing and Love It

a blog entry enti­tled: “How to be a Col­lege Guy” or “How to do Noth­ing and Love It”

wake up to the inces­sant rau­cous­ness of your alarm clock; if it is not yet 2:00pm hit snooze and go back to sleep. when ear­ly after­noon rolls around arise grog­gi­ly, per­haps hun­gover from your slum­ber, kick your books in front of the clos­et and pro­ceed to the restroom. take a long and sat­is­fy­ing uri­na­tion. then take an even longer and more sat­is­fy­ing defe­ca­tion. this is quite pos­si­bly the most relax­ing point of your day. wan­der back to your room and grab a tow­el. (Nota Bene: If you live in an apart­ment you may skip the show­er step and pro­ceed direct­ly toward break­fast. Since I don’t live in an apart­ment, i will take a show­er). Show­er. when back to your room, toss your books onto the couch, away from the clos­et. reach in and grab the first thing that your hand touch­es. put it on. find yesterday’s pants. wear them. curse and take off your shirt. apply deodor­ant. reap­ply shirt. scratch your­self and head to break­fast with your bud­dies. On the way to break­fast, at either the din­ing hall or a local eatery, poke fun at the dubi­ous sex­u­al­i­ty of whichev­er bud­dy it has been agreed upon (with no words actu­al­ly being spo­ken to deter­mine this) has dubi­ous sex­u­al­i­ty for that day. If you are the cho­sen one, defend your­self by mak­ing graph­ic com­ments regard­ing the amounts of for­ni­ca­tion in which you have engaged with their var­i­ous and sundry moth­ers and sis­ters. Order a burg­er for break­fast. smoth­er the fries with cheese and ketchup. if it is after 3:00pm order a beer to go with it.

return home. real­ize you have skipped all your class­es. don’t care about this. real­ize that it is actu­al­ly the week­end. care about this. turn on the game. (doesn’t real­ly mat­ter what game). pop open a beer. throw books off couch. watch game. Curse long­ly and loud­ly at the offi­ci­at­ing and the per­for­mances of the play­ers. even if you don’t give a shit who wins. after the game play some­thing vio­lent on your videogame con­sole for sev­er­al hours. scream fuck fuck fuck con­stant­ly while killing killing killing. get up from the couch. trip over your books. mut­ter. kick books under TV. pro­ceed to restroom and take a long and sat­is­fy­ing uri­na­tion. scratch your­self and let a long and dis­gust­ing fart rip through the room. infec­tious­ly gig­gle and leave before the smell dri­ves you away. hop on the com­put­er and check your email. look at pr0n. dis­gust­ing pr0n. call in your bud­dies to look at said dis­gust­ing pr0n. laugh in dis­gust at said pr0n. go play bas­ket­ball. after the game, go to a restau­rant and order an inor­di­nate­ly large amount of buf­fa­lo wings. eat them all and get sec­onds. drink beer to wash them down. eat more wings to wash beer down. cycle, rinse, repeat. go home. men­tion some­thing about study­ing, but do noth­ing because you can’t find your books.

show­er, change into par­ty clothes. talk with your friends about your chances of get­ting some that night. always pos­i­tive. tell your friend that has no game that you will get a girl for your­self and one for him too. go to par­ty. chau­vinize. drink lots of beer. for­get every­thing, dance and make out with a girl you don’t lat­er remem­ber but you’re friends lat­er term as “the fat ugly chick.” return home wast­ed. watch sports­cen­ter. find books under TV. car­ry them to your room and drop them on the floor. go to the restroom and take a long and sat­is­fy­ing uri­na­tion. remove pants. scratch your­self. walk back to your room car­ry­ing your pants. turn on alarm clock. fall face first on bed. rip some noi­some ass. sigh. pass out.