Bow Chicka Wah Wah!
Dear Axe Bodyspray,
Hello. My name is Casey Peterson and I have been using your product ever since 2002, when Axe was introduced to the U.S. During the entirety of this time, advertisements and descriptions on each container I purchased referring to the “Axe Effect” have led me to believe that at some juncture during this time, I would have sexual intercourse with a woman as a result of using your product. Unfortunately, this has not happened thus far. Therefore, I demand that you send a woman to my home in Gainesville immediately for the act of lovemaking. If you fail to comply, I’m afraid I will have to summon legal counsel and we will be forced to settle this matter in court.
Yours,
Casey A. Peterson
Boat shoes look stupid, anyway
Today was the first day of classes of the fall term, and what would another milestone in my academic journey be without a list of complaints? Failure, that’s what.
Oh, and sorority girls are not much better. True, they are very, very nice to look at. But then, once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. If you answer “yes” to all six of these questions, you’re probably in a sorority:
1. Am I attractive?
2. Am I a total bitch?
3. Do I wear dresses to sporting events at which I feign understanding of the aforementioned sport?
4. Do I like boys in fraternities?
5. Do I own at least one pair of giant, counterfeit (or real) sunglasses by Coco Chanel and/or a counterfeit (or real) bag by Vera Bradley?
6. Would I never, under any circumstances, even talk to Casey Peterson?
There, that should do it. Simple enough. If you scored a 100% on this test – and trust me when I say that this is the only time you will ever score a 100% on anything but a breathalyzer – you are probably in a sorority. Congratulations! I’ll see you in a few years after you get ugly like the rest of us.
Yes, I know that’s not how breathalysers are measured. Yes, I know that both my description of fraternities and sororities fail to cite all of that (mandated) community outreach and good stuff they do. Yes, I am clearly bitter. And yes, indeed, I know that this is a vast generalization of the circumstances and that not everyone involved with Greek Life fills the above descriptions. But an overwhelmingly apparent majority does. I hope the few good, kind-hearted and modest souls who understand that they aren’t above everyone else can save the Greek system and make it not look so utterly ridiculous.
Now, I would like to add the disclaimer that many of my friends from high school and some I have made during my tenure here at UF are in or are rushing in both fraternities and sororities. And to them, I wish the best of luck. I sincerely wish they don’t end up like the folks I’ve outlined above. And for the most part, they haven’t. They’re genuinely good, caring, and unique individuals. I just hope they don’t come to contribute to the stereotype in the years to come.
What's in a name?
If you’re a sports fan like I am, over the course of a season you develop an affection for the players on your favorite team so much that you give them nicknames to prove to everyone that you are, indeed, a die-hard fan. I’ve developed so many nicknames this season that I halfway expect these shortened identities to show up on the back of everyone’s jerseys. This hasn’t happened yet, but as I sit here and hope to God that the Rays can pull out a victory over the Indians, I would like to share with the world what everyone should be called. These nicknames are combinations of Joe Maddon’s overly-friendly monikers, the (sometimes depreciating) names that have evolved over at the forums of raysbb.com, and the nicknames developed over the course of the season by me and my friends. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you nicknames for everyone on the current Rays’ 25 man roster:
Akinori “Aki” Iwamura
Al “El Asasino” Reyes
Andy “Sonny” Sonnenstine
B.J. “Bossman” Upton
Brendan “B-Har” Harris
Brian “Stokesy” Stokes
Carl “C.C.” Crawford
Carlos “C-Pain” Pena
Dan “The Man” Wheeler
Delmon “Delmonster” Young
Dioner “Navi” Navarro
Edwin “EJax” Jackson
Gary “G-Lover” Glover
Grant “Ball Four” Balfour
Greg “Norty” Norton
James “Shieldsy” Shields
Jason “Hammy” Hammel
Joel “Manchild” Guzman
Josh “J.P.” Paul
Josh “J Dub” Wilson
Jon “Switz” Switzer
Jonny “Gomer” Gomes
Juan “The Juice” Salas
Scott “Dohmannator” Dohmann
Scott “Kaz” Kazmir
Moving down the dial (again)
It’s been two years since I discovered the splendor that is Bishop Allen. And thank the good Lord, they released a second album. Having acquired it, it is quite different from their first; it’s more pensive, less poppy, and perhaps even better. Anyhow, I’ve been listening to The Broken String for about three weeks straight and trust me when I say that every time I listen to it, I notice something new and clever. I recommend that you give it a listen.
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This is a day late, but I figured it would be necessary to post for all of antiquity. If it ever comes out that Barry Bonds is, indeed, a cheater, liar, and all-around douchenozzle, let it be known that I never supported him, because I know that about a bajillion sportswriters in America are going to flip flop. Heck, the fact that Barry Bonds broke Hank Aaron’s home run record has gotten me rooting for Alex Rodriguez to beat it in a few years – and he’s a Yankee!
And yes, Mother sent me this today. I don’t know who made it, but it is clever nonetheless. I give you Barry’s rookie card:
Adventures in Being Neighborly
My apologies for not writing as often as I should have for the past few weeks, but I have been a working man. I look after about 15 of Clearwater’s finest children. I use the word “finest” very, very loosely, but in this case, it’s beside the point.
I’d like to tell a little story of a fun excursion I had just the other day. As you know from the Great Dress Fiasco of 2007, my pastor is a woman. As such, she sometimes has to solicit the assistance of other folks as she goes about her papal business. Last Friday was one of these days.
I was so looking forward to shipping the little troublemakers out with their parents at 3:00, but I had no idea about the fun I was about to have. At about 2:45, I was approached by this woman of God. She asked if I would accompany her on a Godly mission to pick up a man and take him to the doctor. Naturally, I said yes because in this day and age it’s never a good idea to send a woman out in a cruel world of vicious predators.
The guy we had to pick up was located at the local Motel 6. He said he had come from LA and called our church because he belongs to Hollywood Christian, a church of the same denomination as mine. He traveled down by train to visit his family in Palm Beach, and hitchhiked to Clearwater from there. He needed a prescription from the doctor to keep him alive on the trek back. Oh, did I mention that he was gay and had AIDS? Yeah, that was sort of awkward.
We went downtown to the only doctor that would see him. The office was a little mobile home shack in the middle of the ghetto, filled with gangstas and whatnot. Anyhow, long story short, our AIDS-ridden friend was addicted to narcotics and wanted some drugs. I guess this makes me an accessory?
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The Surfer by Tony Kamel