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

Saturday, 14 December 2002

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.