>>> Edited For Content
By staff writerMike Forest
August 31, 2005
Well, it’s time to say it for the first time ever: It’s August and I don’t have any class until…never. Wow it feels so good to say that. I won’t lie to you, I really won’t. (Baby, I’m past my shameful ways, I promise.) These days I laugh my ass off when I see that Target is having a ridiculously awesome sale on a 10-pack of spiral bound college-ruled notebooks, and I think to myself: Wow! That’s such a good deal!
Well, it’s time to say it for the first time ever: It’s August and I don’t have any class until…never.
Wow it feels so good to say that. I won’t lie to you, I really won’t. (Baby, I’m past my shameful ways, I promise.) These days I laugh my ass off when I see that Target is having a ridiculously awesome sale on a 10-pack of spiral bound college-ruled notebooks, and I think to myself: Wow! That’s such a good deal!
Then I remember that I don’t have to buy them anymore and it makes me insanely happy. Then I go one an aisle over, pick up a pack of legal pads and a pack of post-its and look at gel ink pens. Ooooo contour grip.
The pens at work suck, and I’ve already gone through two whole packs of stickies at my new job. Almost three scratch pads too. Wait. Sorry. Enough about me and my depressing life. The point is, you have to go back to school and I don’t.
“The worst jocks are the ones who go to colleges the size of my ball sack. No one gives a shit about your school. Ever hear of ‘big fish, small pond'?”
Some of you are heading out to big boy and girl campus for the first time. I only have one piece of advice to give you: don’t be a douchebag. Everything else will be fine if you can remember that.
I hate douchebags.
You’ll have one on your floor. I guarantee it. If you have the luxury of living in those pale-parchment painted cubicles they call dorm rooms, I will assure you without a doubt that you will have a grade A douchebag on the floor.
Even if you live on the coolest floor in the world (which I already did, sorry), you’re gonna have that one guy who comes off as a douchebag to anyone who ever meets him. His parents don’t even like him. They’re glad to drop him off. As soon as he gets all his shit out, they move and leave no forwarding address. It happened to my first roommate.
How can you spot these double-platinum-jerkoff toilet paper sniffers? They fit into several categories. I have neither the time or whim to document everything because A) I don’t care and B) I’ve got an expense report due at 3PM and it’s almost 2. Anyway, I’m just saying that this list is hardly comprehensive; these are just a few examples:
The Stand in the Corner and Watch Television Guy– Dude, either sit down and watch TV with us or leave. You’re standing in the corner with your arms folded and not saying anything. I know you’re uncomfortable and it’s ticking me off and now I’m uncomfortable. Notice that this guy isn’t that bad of a guy. If you would just talk to us and not be weird, then we might be able to be good friends. Or at least you wouldn’t creep me out.
The One-Up Guy – No you console freaks, I’m not talking about magic mushrooms that pop out of a question mark boxes. I’m sure there are much more lame sites somewhere where you can jack off to cheat codes. I’ll get to you later. That’s not who I’m referring to this time.
This is the guy who has to one-up your stories every time. You know this guy. You mention that you got a good grade for once and he talks about how he just 4.5’d all his classes. When you try to explain to him why that is impossible, unless you go to some special-ed school that gives out gold stars and GPAs, he goes on to explain how many extra credit points he had and what his grade would have worked out to be if the prof would have used some magical bell curve that only exists in this guy’s mind. He then informs you that he didn’t even really try that hard.
It doesn’t matter if you make some banal comment about an egg salad sandwich that you got for lunch. He’ll have to tell a long boring story that involves him being late for work, and then 5 minutes of his last class, and then walking in the rain home and buying a pizza that burnt the roof of his mouth. Which he then soothed with a fresh egg-white-only salad sandwich.
“Dude, I was just making conversation. I didn’t need to hear a ten-minute, uninteresting story about your lame life.”
The Joystick Jockey Guy – You always have a controller in your hands. You’re fragging and leveling…and of course: smashing. You’re taking the term “nerd” to a whole new level and even I’M embarrassed for you. You know more about multiple female anime or video game characters’ life stories than you knew about any real woman…or ever will.
Keep your Cubebox 3000 and your Final Forgazm 12—I mean XII—to yourself. Creep.
The Uber-Jock Guy – I don’t know how to tell you this, you hairless Neanderthal freak. Swimming isn’t a real sport. I’m not impressed. All those girls only hang around you because they think you’re gay. All girls love gay guys. They can go out and have fun without worrying about rounding out their rape test total to an even dozen.
The worst jocks are the ones who go to colleges the size of my ball sack. No one gives a shit about your school. So you’re #1 in the Little Mac 3 division. Ever hear of “big fish, small pond”? I didn’t think so. And I don’t have time to explain it. I’ve got to get back to my spreadsheets.
One more thing before I Excel myself to an early grave: do yourself a favor and live in a dorm with no one you know. Chances are you’ll find a couple of these douches.
And if you can’t, well, you know what they say: “Sometimes what you were looking for was right in front of the mirror the whole time.”