Justice System

Last week I received my settlement from the year and a half long legal battle with my old landlord. Despite the indeterminately large amount of damage we caused to the house over our 2 years, I still got $320 of my security deposit back. It ultimately rested on my landlords terrible record keeping meant they couldn't prove what damage occurred when. They were unethical and terrible landlords anyways. Everyone remembers me dominating them during the door fiasco of 2008 right?

I was throwing out all my old files relating to the case when I came across all my other legal items from college. I kinda forgot how many legal problems I had and subsequently weaseled out of. Student Legal Services is the best $7 of tuition I've ever been charged. I came across speeding tickets from Oklahoma and Iowa, MIP's, Noise Violations. There was the unpaid parking ticked from Chicago. The notice to appear on a trash violation. But then I came across this.

This is a judgement by the 15th district court to reduce a noise violation to a civil infraction of blocking a sidewalk. Around that time noise violations were running us $600-$800 because we were repeat offenders. I'm not sure exactly how I managed to get a loud party reduced to me blocking the sidewalk but I'll take it.

The Roommates: Bricky Bear

Brick moved into our house halfway through my Junior year. He was only a Sophomore but I instantly liked Brick. The main reason was because his nickname was Brick. I never really knew why we called him that but I always liked it.

This is the picture in my phone for when brick calls.
(Note the willingness to go barefoot in BOX)

Normally brick would be looking a little more faux fratty than that image. You see brick came from the marvelous world Michigan greek life. He wasn't very good at being in a frat because they didn't let him go on their date party. So to retaliate he threw a huge party at the frat house while his "brothers" were all out at their date party. Then he proceeded to get hammered and pile all the furniture in the front yard. Somehow a fire extinguisher got thrown against a wall and exploded. The brothers returned from their date party about the same time the Ann Arbor Fire Department showed up to fight the smoke billowing out of the house. The next day Al helped carry his futon down State St. and directly into our basement.

Brick lived in the unfinished basement of the box house for the next 4 months in a tent. He had the tent because of all the rodents and insects down there. And I'll be dammed if he didn't manage to bring a girl down there. He often lamented about his "Box pledge semester" on the Box blog.

At heart Brick was a small child. He marveled at everything in awe and his favorite TV shows are re-runs of The Wonder Years. Often after a Michigan loss he would go to his room and watch them or his other stand-by the 1997 Red Wings Championship Season VHS tape. His youthful unrequited love for all sports Michigan would often have him screaming in a childlike rage after losses. He drank heavily and often did shot challenges with himself. He was one of the best drinkers in Box. Though I did once beat him in a Camo Silver Ice drinking contest.

In March of 2009 we embarked on FLASB09. Brick endured 21 hours of sitting bitch seat in Al's G6 all the way to Florida and back. He spent most of the trip wimpering like a small dog and wooing beached whales. He can be seen in the Dirty Sanchez post picture which was taken on the trip.

Brick brought many things to the house while I lived with him. Mostly girls. But also an innocents that was sometimes shocking. Like the time he put a metal can in the microwave and upon roommate protest said "what? that's what I've always done." Brick was notorious for eating half a can of beans and putting the other half back in the fridge.

Brick never took part in the best things about Box. I think I only saw his penis about 5 times, by far the lowest in the house. He didn't relish in the movie Gettysburg, and he definitely was not hanging out in my room playing AOEIII.

The summer between my Junior and Senior years brick embarked on a quest to win the 1996 world series in Ken Griffey JR Baseball. He played all 162 games and on the day he won the final game we threw a big party. It was the happiest I've ever seen Brick. I even posted about it.

Brick was the best person to play pranks on. His normal response would be something along the lines of "Oh no! Aww shucks fellas." One time he was in Chicago and we decided to fill his room up with unused Keno Cards. It took us many days but but we pretty much covered everything in his room.

I'm writing this because today is his birthday. I could think of 100 more stories about Brick, but I'm pressed for time. Even though I only lived with Brick for a year and a half he still remains one of my favorite roommates. I wrote most of this in the past tense but he is not dead. Unless of course he died tonight.

Who would be friends with me? I hate everyone and everything seems stupid to me.

What a perfect title for a post. After I got everyone thinking I've gone emo with my past two posts I decided to drop some Randal Graves on everybody's asses. I was only sad faced because everyone would be switching onto Daylight Savings Time and I would no longer be special. So perk up bitches, and welcome to the world of extra daylight!

So tonight's post will not be about how awesome DST is. It will be about how if the world gives you no friends you go out and hire a friend.

I was the first University of Michigan grad that our organization had ever hired. Soon after coming on board (employer pun) I looked around and saw a bunch of ohio state shit and was disgusted. I decided that I needed backup and realized I needed another U of M grad. So I went back to Michigan, found one that had strong legs and good pad level and hired the shit out him.

Quickly our appreciation for being smarter than everyone else became apparent. You see, most days people would go around and ask if anyone wanted to grab lunch at one of the local food joints down the road. It was always a crapshoot if people had brought their lunches or not, and there was no way to determine if people were going out on any given day. So we decided to develop a quick and simple way to know whether we would pack a lunch or go out to eat. But the trick was that we wanted to keep it varied and not always go out on the same days every week. We came up with the Prime Number Eating Schedule (PNES). Everyday which is a prime number we go out to eat.

It ends up breaking down really well.

Days 1-10: 4

Days 11-20: 4

Days 21-31: 3

It is possible to get the unlucky week where the 24th is a Monday, but there is only one of those weeks between now and September 2012. I double checked that with one of those idiot savants who memorize calendars. For the most part it's a pretty good system, because I can look at my watch and know whether or not to pack a lunch, and I know that my someone else is doing the same thing. That's the Michigan Difference.

One person who still cares about me

When the world has me down and wondering where all my friends have gone, I can always look back to one friend who has been there no matter what. A friend who shows up at just the right time and stayed only as long as he was needed. I'm talking about my childhood imaginary friend Farty.

My older sister had a imaginary friend named Emilyemmus. Her and Emilyemmus always had great stories of adventures and fun times. I too wanted to share in the pleasure of imaginary friendom but lacked the imagination to create a real imaginary friend. Emilyemmus was just a projection of my older sister into imaginary form. My friend had to be better, and since he was only a means to and end, I decided that he would just be Farty. Today scholars still debate whether Farty was actually made out of farts or not. I'd like to think he was.

Farty had a knack for showing up just when I needed him. If I didn't want to sit next to someone at the movie theater those would always be the shows that Farty decided to tag along to. Sometimes Farty would join for dinner just in time for Grandma Sunshine to sit on him. This was a considerable offense as Farty didn't like being sat on. Usually an instance of Farty would only last minutes or until blame could be shifted onto Farty's crazy antics.

Farty was mostly a joke much like the acting career of The Rock. He lived on well past the normal age of most imaginary friends, which can be mainly attributed to the fact that he was so much fun to be around. While he hasn't appeared in a long time, I think Farty has lived on in the hearts of those who loved him, and those whom he loved.

Proof that less people care about me

This is a graph of how many people write me birthday messages on my Facebook Wall.

During my peak college years I was getting about 45 birthday wall posts a year. Just a few short years later I'm down to receiving 7. Even the breakdown of the 7 was a little depressing. 6 from my family and one from a guy at work. And one of those 7 was a very suspicious post from an Aunt followed immediately by a post from her husbands account. I know the only reason her husband even has a Facebook is so she can go and play more Farmville on it.

I'd like to chalk this up to people using Facebook less to wish people happy birthday, but they didn't make up for it with 38 texts or calls. It's just another data point of the trend of me having less friends than I did in 2009.

But here is some interesting analysis.

This chart adds in the number of blog posts that I write in a year to compare with the number of birthday FB wall posts. 2011 is projected. Maybe there is some correlation between blogging and people caring about me. Perhaps if I blog more this year, I'll have more birthday well-wishers next year. Hell, it's worth a try.

Milestones in a Man's Life

Today marks a big anniversary. March 5th, 1996 was the first day I ever wore boxer shorts. It is now the crystal anniversary of my total testicular freedom. It's crazy to think back on those first 9 years of briefs. In fact, those undergarments seem to accurately fit my fleeting memories of those times - brief. It was an era of great change. It was a time of Mad Cow, Bob Dole, and 1996's song of the year Kiss From A Rose. I was 9 years old and it was time to become a man and start wearing some manly underwear and let the boys breathe a bit. I found the freedom quite refreshing, and to celebrate 15 years of modern skivvies I went out and bought a $25 pair of boxers because I'm worth it.

But there is also the other anniversary. March 5th, 1987. A glorious day that saw the world be forever brightened by the presence of the author of this blog. I remember it vividly -the bright lights, the doctors, and looking like a burn victim because I was born 3 weeks late. I'll never forget my own birth. It was a time of fascination. The Edmonton Oilers were in the middle of a dynasty, Wall Street was on the big screen, and people were being Borked. To celebrate 24 of years of making the world a richer place to live I went out and purchased a handgun.

I bought a gun for three major reasons 1) to kill zombies, 2) to impress chicks, 3) to scare children.

Zombie defense is pretty much self-explanatory but to briefly explain: the thing I wish for most in this world is for a zombie apocalypse so I can see if I can survive that challenge. If my wish were to come true only for me to be woefully unequipped to live in the world I so desperately want to exist in, I would feel foolish and defeated. That's also why I bought this. It will probably never happen, but neither will using it for "home defense".

The second reason is to impress chicks. I don't know why a girl would be impressed by a gun, in fact it seems rather odd. But I've impressed chicks by having a blog and a Campus Corner card.

The final reason is to scare small children. When I was a kid there was a rumor that one guys who lived in a house down the block had a shotgun. Whenever we would cut through his yard we would do so running at full speed and usually in a zig-zag pattern. We all thought he would shoot us for trespassing. That's the type of impression that even the rumor of a gun has on children.

Becoming a gun owner and getting a fresh pair of trouser-shorts seems like a fitting way to celebrate March 5th, 2011. Here's to my new Beretta 92 FS and designer underwear.