Maybe we should chug on over to namby-pamby land where maybe we can find some self confidence for you ya jackwagons – R. Lee Ermey My proud examples: Frank. Frank was an ordinary dude with a job at First of America. I thought he was entitled to god-status as the big dude of the chapter. He […]
Cripley: Let’s go to TC’s for beer and stupidity! Radar: I like beer! Gingerman: We can take my Jeep, because it lacks creature comforts and is prone to tipping! Later Cripley: TC’s was fun! Radar: I like beer! Gingerman: Not tipping my Jeep over counts as a win! Then, alongside a car ahead, there are […]
TC: What did you do wrong? Crabs: I took your truck without asking. TC: What else? Crabs: I drove it to Ann Arbor TC: What else? Crabs: …while fucked up. TC: What else? Crabs: …and I took the keg TC: What else? Crabs: … and three frat brothers TC: What else? Crabs: …and we stole […]
The Best Damn Fairmont blurb doesn’t technically apply. Gingerman had one (green with a tan interior covered entirely by one sheet of shitty cheap plastic – even the seats). Hummelberg had a newer black one with a T-roof (which acted like a torsion bar, the car was so flexy without its roof on). Both were shitboxes compared to mine, but compared to IIs, and dorky Fairmonts, they were friggin’ awesome. God, were we stupid.
I understood why the girls of “A Chi O” would not associate with us, just as I understood the privilege of the Alpha Phi’s deigning to appear at a joint party with Phi Sigma Kappa and the Fijis.
Money. They had it, we didn’t.
Class. They wished, we didn’t.
But the girls of “Chi O”? Hanging with them was almost as impossible – once, maybe twice a year. The Phi Mus would be over in a heartbeat. The DZs were always up for a good time, and the AOPies were usually good sports. But Chi O?
It couldn’t be the money – they rented out a dorm from Western after losing their house.
It couldn’t be that or class, as this parking lot shows:
1977 base Firebird – equivalent to Pretty Boy. Also mostly shit.
1978 AMC Concord – complete shit
1978 Ford Fiesta – same as Sheen. Not complete shit, but cheap.
1979 Ford Pinto – slightly less explosive than Piller’s Pinto, but still beyond complete shit
You girls weren’t even Bimmer-driving poseurs, so what gives? It’s me drunk humping the legs of everyone on your executive board, isn’t it? (That or the fact that the Tekes and their ample doobage supplies were a lot closer.)
The Romantics were from Detroit. Detroit music was cool – WLLZ (Whole lotta Led Zepplin) WRIF (Baby!), Motown (as I learned later). Even Ted Nugent (pre-insanity) compared to the tighty whitey repress your inner weirdo nature of my location
I could tell anonymous frat girls that I liked them, because it was in the lyrics.
No, it did not get me laid
Neither did getting messed up from Budweiser, FWIW, although I sure felt cool.
Getting a semi-hot date you have absolutely no chance of scoring with 40 minutes before the party starts?: $20 (for the tickets, dipshit). You can get shot down for free anytime you want, and pretty much every time you don’t want.
Cheesy award from Scott (which you keep for 25 years) because you at least didn’t go stag, thereby beating the over/under : Obviously priceless.
The pic is from a different banquet, although the girl in the red dress could very well have been my pity date from the award. ^^
“Now cracks a noble oil pan heart. Good-night sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to the junk yard thy rest.” – Horatio Caine on Mel Gibson (Hamlet, act V, scene ii) It was 20 years ago today (give or take) that the 1976 Mercury Marquis bit it. Phi Sigma Kappa from CMU came […]