Every now and again, PIC's own Michael Curtiss ventures down from Saint Augustine (America's oldest city?take that, Jamestown!) to Tampa (America's laziest city?take that, Los Angeles!) to visit his family (his parents went to my alma mater, USF?Go Bulls!). When he gets a few moments away from his family, he usually gives me a chance to drive him all over town and show him a good time. Apparently, the extra s in Curtiss stands for extra special, which is how I feel driving his greasy head around Tampa.

Hanging out with Curtiss on Friday night reminded me of the absolute brokeness of college students. I had forgotten just how broke I used to be when I went to USF. For example, we decided to pull some money from the ATM to kick off the night in Ybor City. I figured I wouldn't need much because Curtiss had expressed some apprehension about staying in Ybor too late (someone had been murdered there the night before and Curtiss seemed to think that Ybor was unsafe because of this one little, monthly occurrence?wuss) so I pulled out a hundred bucks. Mike got a twenty. Seriously, how in the hell are you gonna barhop a drinking district on $20? Well, it turns out you can't. Unless you're a hot chick, in which case, who needs money?

A word of advice to the young: Never start a fight with a friend of yours while he is a) half-cocked and b) driving you home. This is a bad idea. Trust me on that.

Okay, check out how stupid I am. I mean, y'all knew I was stupid, but read this next thing. I'm really dumb:

Saturday morning, I woke up and went to pick up some beer. On the way over, I discovered that my car's AC wasn't blowing cold. After a phone call to my dad, I deduced that it was probably in need of a Freon refill (because the fan was still working) so I took my car up to my buddy Dave's place. Dave's a mechanic. After looking under my hood for a few minutes, Dave walked around to the driver's side.

“You see that?” Dave asked me.

“Yeah,” I said. He was pointing at my thermostat controls.

“That controls the temperature of the air in your vehicle. If you put it all the way to the edge of the blue line there, I think you'll get some cold air out of ‘er.”

Apparently, when Curtiss and I were fighting in my car while I was driving (again kiddos: not safe), he had knocked the AC control into the hot range. Since I live in Tampa and never run the heat in my car, it never occurred to me to adjust the temperature controls. Instead, I drove my car to Dave's to get fixed and didn't bother to notice that nothing was wrong with it. I'm the best (note: no, I'm not).

So there you go. I'm a total moron. We don't even have to argue about it. Just accept it. I am dumb.

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And finally, because logic and fluidity have a problem remembering their responsibility for the final line of my observation pieces, I leave you with the following, which I saw on a T-Shirt:
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“Think of the fat as bonus muscle.”

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