unto our host, to our fair fraternity
Today is the 140th anniversary of the founding of the frat. Brotherhood, Scholarship and Character, and all that.
Brotherhood? Unquestionably, and in vast abundance.
Scholarship? In my case, that happened AFTER I stepped away.
Character? Us? Yes. Afterwards? Not so much…
Truth in Advertising
I did not see this car in Kalamazoo, driving near the old frat house.
I did not shoot it with my puny p/s. Brenda Priddy was not there. She did not totally scoop me or this website with her spyness and armloads of SLRs with 1000mm lenses.
I was also not at Waldo’s, nor were people walking around naked on dares.
It’s a shame, really, because that would have been a better day than the one that actually happened. Stupid REM sleep. So much promise; so little delivery.
Mmmm winter. Time to party in the student ghetto. Pod knows of one. Ever the nonchalant one, he sidles up to all the pretty girls at school as if he’s known them forever. Phid, on the other hand, has more of an end game approach. He gets more, earlier; Pod’s are more loyal down the road. They brought you because: you’re buds, there’s more than enough to go around, you can be wingman for both and maybe one of the babes has a desperate friend or an appropriately low standards.
There ARE plenty of girls. Wow! And they’re so nice and friendly when you’re not trying to hump their leg if they say “hi.” Because you’re not trying to dry hump them into any corners and just talking to them like people, it’s a great party and that one chick seems to be more entertained than most. Of course you have no chance. You’re the wingman, and in the time it took to remember that, Phid and the girl slipped out onto the porch for some groping.
So, be funny, and keep the housemates distracted while nature is taking its course just outside. ”Grab a brew. don’t cost nothin’” is no small consolation.
But all good things must end: the party, clearheadedness. If you need a pee break, or to barf up that pre-party Taco Johns, there’s bound to be a convenient car just aching to be your target. Just not the one you arrived in, please.
Yeah, you should totally come back tomorrow and hit on these girls. Or not.
It’s Fall 1983. If you had bothered to attend class, this should have been the start of your junior year in college. Instead, it’s your first semester back:
Classes are good, the football you’re interested in is good (other than losing a bet to Cripley. Stupid Illinois.), building pallets with Phid for beer money works just fine.
October means Homecoming. At Western, that means a loss to the fighting David Lettermans of Ball State. It also means time to party. Continue reading
Herron, Toussaint Strike Twice, Michigan Whips WMU in Shortened Opener
ANN ARBOR, Mich. – Senior weakside linebacker Brandon Herron (Stafford, Texas/Dulles) became the first Wolverine in school history to post two defensive scores in a single contest, helping lead the University of Michigan football to a 34-10 win over Western Michigan in the 2011 season opener, which was declared final with 1:27 in the third quarter due to weather on Saturday (Sept. 3) inside Michigan Stadium. The victory is head coach Brady Hoke‘s first at the helm of the Michigan program.
In the spring of 1989, I sheepishly returned to the College of Arts and Sciences with hat in hand, begging for forgiveness for the nuclear wasteland of my first two semesters, and the subsequent years of minimum wage bullshit and the Meister Brau diet and living the Blutarsky lifestyle with the bare minimum amount of community college classes needed to stay eligible and avoid paying rent.
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 came through the drive through at the BK Lounge. I piled him up with chicken sandwiches and extra fries.
Karma: Then you called him a chicken for driving a Toyota Celica. Nice. Dumbass.
Frank was the dude, for Get a Date, Don’t be late. Frank was the dude when I got laid and dutifully reported back.
Frank was there for a couple of years. Continue reading
Surprising amounts of cargo room
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 a sign.
TC: OK, what did you do right?
Crabs: I let Radar (oddly sober) drive us back
TC: What else?
Crabs: We brought the keg back.
TC: What else?
Crabs: It was our sign.
TC: What else?
Crabs: We also brought back tacos.
OG Fred scores the first Tesla roadster of summer. The irony of a Lotus wholly reliant on its electrical systems – some jokes just write themselves
Joseph Lucas is laughing in his grave.
Chi O’s may know how to party, but their back seat parlors need an upgrade.
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 us and the Fijis.
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:
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.)