Brian Goes Home For the Weekend

I went home this weekend for my sister's graduation. I had to drive back the car and along the way decided to stop for KFC. In Gary Indiana. The KFC was literally carved out of a truck stop. They had this poster on the wall.

It's hard to read because I took it with my camera phone. But it says on top "Goals to Pass Health + Safety." Then there is a bar graph with drumsticks tracking their progress. If they reach there goal they get a pizza party. On the bottom it reads "We Can Do It". Isn't that refreshing, if the KFC I'm eating at passes their health and safety inspecting they get a pizza party. Does that mean that they aren't passing it right now?

I then spent the next 36 hours gorging food and drinking good beer.

I have zero foresight. I didn't really plan on how I was going to get back to Chicago, because I had to leave the car at home. Part of being in college is living below the poverty line and embracing it. I don't need to buy Ramen and drink Steel Reserve, but I do because I enjoying living like a true undergrad. So I took the Greyhound Bus back to Chicago. Greyhound is trying to remodel their image. It isn't working.

Ann Arbor Bus Depot

Right before we left to drive me to the bus depot a supercell ripped through Bloomfield Hills. I knocked out power and toppled trees. Every road had trees down and the 30 foot pine in our neighbors yard was completely uprooted. I was really pretty scary, there were trees over all of the roads, on cars, and on houses. It reminded my sister of the time when she had her drivers permit and we were on the highway when there was as downpour. All the cars were pulling off to the side of the road and my sister slows down to 50 and my dad goes "DON'T STOP!" and made her speed back up.

As soon as I got to the bus stop I put on my Ipod, and immediately this track came on.



At least my Ipod has a since of humor. The Bus was on time though, and the bus driver was smoking a pipe. I got to see downtown Jackson, and Kalamazoo and spend 15 minutes at a rest area in northern Indiana. I bought a copy of USA Today in Jackson so I could do the crossword on the bus. But I realized that the only pencil I had wasn't sharpened. Yes, I was that guy using the file on a pair of fingernail clippers to sharpen a pencil on a Greyhound bus. By the time I got it to write the sun had gone down, and the interior lights didn't work. So, I spent the entire time thinking of scenarios where the bus driver went down/was arrested, and I had to drive the bus the rest of the way to Chicago. When I finally got to Chicago I had to walk a half mile in the rain to the Brown Line. 20 minutes and one transfer later, I was walking down my street towards my house. The entire trip took 8 hours.

Working 9 to 5

What a way to make a living.

Yesterday I was up in Skokie at the heavy rail shop. It's an hour and a half away, but its not a bad place. When I got home I decided to lay down for a second but fell asleep and didn't wake up till 6am the next day. When I woke up I realized that flat across the street had caught fire AND that I had peed my bed. Only a little, but I guess thats what happens when you sleep for 12 hours. I can't believe that I just admitted that.

Today I was at work for 10 hours but didn't do anything. They haven't assigned us work yet, so we sit around prank call each other and tell lies about Mary, the 85 year old, hunchback in accounts payable. Tonight my roommates and I are going to a bar that is having its anniversary. Free drinks, I think.

Tomorrow I'm going down to the South Shops. That's right the south side, I'll tell Leroy Brown that you were talking shit about him. After work tomorrow the interns are going out drinking at some bar with 2 dollar Blue Moons.

The Polo's that they made us were today are terrible. There gayer than Mr. Hollands Opus. Hell, they're gayer than this:
That was by an apartment I looked at. I decided it wasn't for me.

I'll leave you with some cheese:

Today is the first day of the rest of the next 12 weeks of my life

I started my internship today. I sat in a conference room for 4 hours this morning doing absolutely nothing. But the other 4 interns I am working with all seem really cool, and it looks like I'm going to be doing actual work not intern work. They also gave us polo's with the CTA logo on it. They wouldn't be so bad but above that it has "Internship Program" embroidered. We were told that we have to wear them on Wednesday.

Speaking of what to wear, which of these should you show up with on your first day of work?
A) Cargo Pants
B) Not tucked in shirt
C) Muttenchops

Believe me I saw them all.

But now I am at least making money. Well most of my income goes to the 600$ rent I am paying in Ann Arbor and the 700$ I am paying in Chicago. But I should have some left over, and because saving money is for chumps I have some stuff I want to buy. In order:

1) Polarized Oakley's Fives 2.0 Crystal Black.
I had a pair and then left them in Naples, FL. They are great sunglasses and I want another pair, but Oakley doesn't make them anymore. I need them now because there are so many hot girls out here in Chicago that I can't help but stare.

2) Office chair.

I had a leather executive chair in my room in Benjamin, and for the first half of last year. I had found it by a dumpster behind fletcher hall on a hot day in June of 2006. Unfortunately, I had an accident and it broke, but the chair part is still in our living room. Now at school I sit in a wooden chair, which also breaking. This would be a great thing to buy in Chicago because I don't have a chair, so any time I want to use my computer I have to slide my bed over to the table my computer is on.

3) AR-15 assault rifle.

I bet your wonder about my rationale for wanting to purchase an assault rifle. It's more about the fact that I CAN purchase an assault rifle. So why wouldn't I get one? I don't really need an assault rifle for home protection, or shooting animals. But if your going to protect your home, or shoot anything it might as well be with a semi-automatic, lightweight, 5.56 mm caliber, air-cooled, gas-operated, magazine-fed rifle. But I doubt I would even buy rounds for it. I just want to sit on my porch in a rocking chair with a tall glass of lemonade and clean my assault rifle. Isn't that what every freedom loving American wants?

I have another reason, which is one that is easy to object to, because it seems so unlikely. But, I think that it is possible that the USA might fight a war on American soil within my lifetime. In the past 232 years there have been 3 major conflicts on American soil. In that same span Switzerland was occupied and fought upon three times (Second War of Villmergen, Second War of the Coalition, Swiss Rebellion ). Countries like Germany and France have also seen their fair share of occupations. So what I am saying is that most of the 1st world countries still fight wars on their own soil. But it is still very unlikely that any country will attack America while we are the only global super power. That doesn't mean that other countries wouldn't like to. I get the feeling that there are a few countries that don't like us all that much. And one day I'm not sure that we will be the only super power. So I think that while unlikely, it is still possible that within my lifetime our country might be invaded. So why should I purchase an assault rifle? Because if that ever does happen I going to go Swayze in Red Dawn all over everybody's ass. I can't remember the exact quote but a Japanese general made a remark about the possibility of a mainland US invasion that was along the lines of "If we attack, every American will be waiting in the grass with a gun" or something like that. I guess I want an assault rifle because I am a product of the cold war, and to impress chicks.

Plus I think I might have an actual use for an assault rifle that I will explain in a more thought out, less rambling post. That post won't be for a bit thought.

Welcome to the Polk House, Fatass

After living out of the trunk of my car for the past 5 days, I have finally moved into a place for the summer. It is the second story of a 3 flat in the heart of Wrigleyville. Big Nasty named it the Polk house because I once referred to it as the dark horse candidate for living arrangements, much like James K. Polk's 1844 candidacy for the presidency. I am living with 2 dudes who are in there twenties, and are cool guys. To give you an idea of how awesome the location is consider this map:I live at the green arrow.

1: Wrigley Field. I can see it from my place and can hear the roar of the crowd. I can also see the W or L flag for wins and losses. 570 feet. That's less than 2 football fields.

2: Addison Red Line Station. The el is literally at the end of the street. This is important because I work downtown and that's where it goes. 415 feet.

3: 7-11. This is where you buy slurpees. 530 feet.

4: Nearest bar. It's the Harrey Carey Tavern. I'm guessing its a Cubs bar. 350 feet. Actually every bar here is a cubs bar.

5: Liquor Store. Conveniently placed between the El and my house. I get to pass every day coming home from work. Even better it's on the way to work. 400 feet.

6: Bars. The nearest bar to my house in Ann Arbor is 2350 feet. Within half that range in Chicago there are 20+ bars. They are marked with red dots.

The other good news is that my furniture has been donated to me by the benevolent Nasty and Tobais. To bad I still don't have a dresser or a chair. I am going with the opium den style ala Fritz highly successful 2006-2007 "Bring Girls Home to the Mattress on the Floor" Campaign. But my room does have 1 piece of decoration, a 10 foot American Flag.

Also parking around here sucks, and I am glad that I won't have my car here for the rest of the summer. But today I managed to parallel park my car into a space with 6 inches behind me and 4 in front. That means the space was only 10 inches bigger than my car and I didn't tap the car in front or behind. I was really proud of my accomplishment and I let people know by letting out a "Whoo-Hoo, I still got it" in the middle of the street. I don't really have to parallel park often, because I don't own a car, but after driving a bus for all of these years I have watched tons of people fail and learned from their mistakes.

Night in ND

So I have moved out to Chicago, but I still don't have a place to live. My goal on Friday was to spend the day finding a place to live. Instead I spent the entire day playing GTA IV. I actually started playing at 10:30 and only ended at 5:30, which is when I went across the street to buy a case of Bud Light. At 7:00 I got a call from my buddy Dan, to drive out to South Bend and that one of our friends was out there. Of course I couldn't turn down a novelty trip to a school I hate. I decided to see if I could make it to South Bend on three gallons of gas. I couldn't, but I did get to stop an the Knute Rockne Transportation Center.

When I got to South Bend I was treated to a shot of Makers Mark and Crown Royal. I then went to the bar with my friend and his parents. It was the coolest Irish pub that I have ever been to. They actually had a live band. And each of they members had Irish kilts on. I don't know too many Irish songs but I really want a CD of that shit. One of Dan's neighbors was there and tried to come on to me. Dan if your reading this, your neighbor is married and a slut and instead of coming on to me she should be going to the farmers market.

After we left, we went to a Notre Dame bar and Dan's girlfriends aunt was working the bar. She made what I could only call a badtini. I got really hammered and started hitting on girls. I went 0-2 on account of boyfriends. I mean I really don't know what to do if you start to hit on a girl and her boyfriend comes over and claims his dominance. Do you do this? Luckily the third girl was a charm because I got her number and email. I am such a ladies man. I then passed out and woke up 8 hours later and went to breakfast.

This lead to one of the funnier moment of my life. After breakfast we were driving back with Dan, his girlfriend and his GF's little brother in a conversion van. They type with like the built in TV and shit. As he pulls up to his GF's house, her little brother stands up to get out. The van is still moving a little bit. Right when he stands up Dan slams on the breaks and kid's head hits the overhead console and knocks him back down.

I drove back to Chicago and found a place to live.

College OTR sucks my balls.

My freshmen year roommate would sit on our futon all day every Saturday and browse Facebook. He had one of two standard responses to everyone on Facebook.

1) This chick is hot. I'm going to facebook her.
or 2) He's in that frat? They're so gay.

Every time I read the blog College OTR I am reminded of his level of commentary.

If you've never heard of it, and I pray most of you haven't, College OTR (On The Record) is a college blog with contributors from schools around the nation. And it sucks. My issue isn't that there is a really crappy blog out in the internet. It's that people think that this blog is awesome, and give it awards (US News and World Report).

My first real complaint is the content. Along with what is noted above, the entire site screams look at me and look at these really cool people I'm hanging out with. Look how much fun I had. No one could have this much fun! it's like the Eleanor Roosevelt quote, "Great minds discuss ideas; Average minds discuss events; Small minds discuss people." This site discusses people. Here are a few of the categories: Wacky Faculity; Campus Characters; and of course Hot People.

The most notable content on the site has been:
A) Coolest Frats + Sororities on Campus
B) Hottest Girls on Campus
C) Definition of a "Hook Up"
D) College Sex Diary

The entire site is fluff. Links to McLovin Videos?

Even the occasional post that would be considered news is lacking. Still no mention of Michigan Baseball post-season play. And the news they do get is usually late. I broke the Taco Bell story almost a month before it was posted on OTR. But I'm not trying to compare my blog with theirs. Their blog "is the country's premiere college blog, capturing the best of everything that happens at college." My blog is simply a shrine to my own awesomeness.

The idea is that a few contributors are selected to blog about events. The job description is this:

CollegeOTR Seeks the Next Generation of Campus Celebrities:

For the upcoming school year CollegeOTR is looking for a group of incredibly hooked-up scenesters to show the world what's happening at their school.

Submit your photos, gossip, breaking news – and anything salacious you can tell us about your campus.

We’ll select one Chief Contributor per campus and pay them $500 a semester for great work. CCs will be required to post 15-20 photos per week (with captions).

So these people get selected to be the voice of their school and write about gossip and shit. But why would anyone want to read what they have to say? Furthermore, who would want to become a Chief Contributor? That's like 100 hours of work for 500$ of pay. It's clear though that the people who do contribute are obviously the type of people that would think that is a good gig.

College OTR is like the trash TV of the internet. You read it not because it's informative or interesting. You read it because it's there and you have nothing better to do. Just blindly eat up whatever is given to you, and just convince yourself how great it is. It's the exact same reasons why I try to convince my grandmother to stop listing to Dr. Laura. I swear if that bitch wasn't given a platform everyone would realize how dumb she really is. But somewhere, someone decided that she is relevant, just like someone did for College OTR.

I'd do Anything for Salina

Two weekends ago I was at a party and met a girl named Salina. She seemed interesting enough and I offered to walk her home. She had written her name on my hand, but didn't include a number. When we got to her place I assessed the situation and gave her a kiss on the cheek and told her goodnight. I always leave them wanting more. When I got home I immediately facebooked. But while facebooking I realized that between the time I had left her front door and the time I had gotten home she had entered a FB relationship. I simply chalked it up to such a magical kiss on the cheek. What girl wouldn't be ready to go steady after one of my kisses for the Mrs. (Worst. Sentence. Ever.) Four days later she accepted and wall posted.

yeeeay for cheese!

On Memorial day instead of looking for an apartment in Chicago (where I was about to move in 2 days) I instead spent the day doing nothing. First I put up the American Flag outside the house. Then, I helped Ross write the Wikipedia Article for Julie "The Cat" Gaffney. It was immediately taken down and his user name "Poopstainpapadopoulos" was revoked. An excerpt from memory:

Julie "The Cat" Gaffney was born to mortal parents in the year of our Lord MCMLXXIX. After dominating the Bangor Maine junior division hockey program she joined Gordan Bombay's rag-tag district 5 mighty ducks...

After that we went over to Coop's house for a bbq on his roof. I drank my lunch and dinner and 6 hours later I was drunk. That's when Hannah, who works with Salina as an athletic trainer asked me about her. The girls said if a guy walked them home and only gave them a kiss they would be pissed. Sounds like they're a bunch of whores to me. The guys thought it was the smart play. Hannah then asked if I wanted her number. I thought this was a great idea. With everyone watching I left her a voicemail where I invited her to the Ann Arbor Hands On Museum followed by dinner at Grizzley Peak. I recall the message going well and my prose excellent, my contemporaries disagree. There was some group discussion whether the Ann Arbor Hands On Museum really existed or whether it was a thinly veiled innuendo for second base. Either way I figured she would be in.

Today she called me and I had to break her heart and tell her that I was leaving for Chicago and she had to break mine that she was already seeing someone. Ohh the love that could have grown. It appears I don't have a knack for picking the right girls. BTW, she was a gymnast. Dammit.