By staff writer E.E. Southerby
Volume 65 – January 25, 2004
Now Playing: “Powerless” by Nelly Furtado
-I know people who claim they went to college only because they heard it would increase their chances of getting laid. I can only assume that, when they're sitting in class and everyone else is taking notes on the prof's lecture, these people are taking notes on the hottest girls in the room. Essentially, getting laid becomes a class in and of itself. It must be an awful class to fail. Especially since they'll fail all their regular classes too.
-They say 60% of people meet the person they're going to marry while in college. Just think, years from now, three-fifths of all married couples will be telling their kids the story of the day they met at the bar when dad was really hammered and threw up all over mom's new blouse and then soiled himself. Just like in the movies.
-Quote of the Moment: A friend of mine, who probably won't be my friend anymore after she reads this newsletter: “My ex and I broke up a year ago, but we still see each other and have casual sex.” Listen, if you're still seeing each other, then you haven't broken up, and he's therefore not your ex. Come up with a better reason not to sleep with me, like herpes or something.
-Have you ever stopped to think about the term ‘casual sex'? Like sex is something you do casually, on your lunch break, after Wendy's. Casual sex makes about as much sense as accidental sex. (“Oops, sorry about that. I tripped. Onto your genitals.”)
-If someone you know is having a party, the first question any guy asks is “How many girls are there?” Nobody wants to go to a giant ‘sausage-fest'; that is, a party where the guys-to-girls ratio is strongly against their favor. Guys figure that if there's one male for every 20 or so females at the party, their odds of scoring increase exponentially. Girls don't have this problem. You don't hear girls complain “this party's a total bush party. Someone get me some sausage!”
-Off-Topic Corner: Wouldn't it be just incredibly awesome to put a Slinky on an escalator, so that it never made it to the bottom? I'd pay money to watch that for hours.
-I know a lot of people mock them, but I hold a tremendous amount of respect for anyone who somehow manages to remain a virgin. There are so many obstacles facing you: The loneliness, the temptation, getting the cheese out of the trap without setting it off… Wait, that's vermin. Virgins are hilarious.
-Most roommates form some sort of sex code. Like “if one of us is having sex, put a sock on the doorknob outside your room so we know not to disturb you.” There's never any such code, though, for when people are having sex and there's no girl in the room. It's too bad, because that's when they REALLY don't want to be disturbed. Maybe they're using the sock.
-At some point, one of your roommates will probably bring a girl home. At this point, everyone else in their house has to quickly run to their rooms and giggle to themselves while secretly being jealous that the person having sex is not them. At the same time, the lucky roommate must, to avoid being teased the next morning (“Haha! You had sex!” “I know.” “Oh. sigh…”) have sex with the door closed while not making any sound whatsoever. Thus, throughout the entire production the house is completely silent, except for a few bouncing, squeaky bedsprings coming from the one room. It's like the house has been taken over by mimes and kangaroos.
-There are some people, and by ‘some people' I am referring to people of the male gender, who are a little too open about their love of pornography. Porn is no longer the bastion of hope for virgins and people who don't know how to delete their Internet Explorer history. Everyone is getting in on the action. Before college, I never knew anyone who was willing to share their freaky porn with me, or talk about it in public. Now everywhere I turn, people are inviting me over to watch a new Cleveland Steamer video or something. If you don't know what I'm talking about, please do yourself a favor and refrain from looking it up. Hell, I'm getting sick just writing about it.
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