Do you like to do it yourself?

That right there is what I miss about college. Not the drinking, but the sheer excitement and encouragement from friends to make terrible decisions. If you pound a bottle of Evan Williams after college, people tend to not want to speak to you anymore. In college, it's just always a great idea.
I might just continue with my recent tradition of updating this thing once a week. I think I'm kidding myself to think I can write anything remotely interesting more than that.
There was this alumni/senior party thing at UR Friday night. I went by myself because I was the only one who had a ticket since I gave a few bucks to the school a few months ago for the Holter Memorial. But there were like no alums at this thing, a bunch of seniors kept referring to it as a senior social and asking me why I was there. I think I was being creepy. Anyway, to the point, I had planned on going for about 20 mins because my ticket got me two free beers. Right. I got home at 5:20 am. After the two beers, someone bought me one and then there was no turning back. Went to the Cellar with my brother and one of his buddies and we stayed there until they kicked us out basically. I also found a Westhampton Govt Association t-shirt in a closet in the commons along with some bubbles, which were actually a lot of fun for me because I'm a child. I also wore the shirt the rest of the night, which I didn't realize I was wearing when some girl told me she had the same one. I thought she was retarded until I looked down and realized I, in fact, was the retard. We went to the KA lodge after the Cellar, God, why do I write about these frequently occurring embarrassing moments in my life. Hung out in John's room afterwards where I sobered up and blew more bubbles. Oh and John's friend came in at one point and rubbed his penis on a couple of kids who were refusing to leave the room. It was kind of weird because the guy had a chick in his bed at the time, but when John called him and told him to come rub his package on a couple of dudes, he came running down the hall. Questionable.
I didn't get dressed until 9 pm yesterday, which is typical fare for a Saturday, or basically any other day I don't have to work. Hung out at Lauren's for a while, but then we watched the UR senior video, which inevitably is a depressing experience for me and then the night quickly deteriorated. Went to Richbrau. Sadly that's all I can really say about that. Woke up at 230 today with my underwear around my ankles. I was in my bed, though, which I guess can be considered an accomplishment of sorts. My life is totally regressing. I'm glad Pig Roast is next weekend so I can continue my rapid slide into horribleness.
I wrote a story last week about a former asst. superintendent who stole some dvds from a Costco last year. He resigned after the incident, but I found out he was still working for the district as a consultant. It was a pretty big deal because he admitted to the theft and school officials were clearly in damage control mode all week, school board members refused to comment on it. But what bothered me about the whole thing was my role in it. I didn't like that feeling of control over a guy's reputation who I've never spoken to. In the court records, a medical report said the guy has a history of alcoholism and had suicidal thoughts after the theft. Then I write this story about how parents think its really horrible that he's still working for the schools. I could have just as easily not reported the story at all, I only found out because of an anonymous phone call and there was little chance it would have come out otherwise. So, I guess I just question the role I'm in, why I should I, a 23-year-old bum who still lives in college-mode, be digging up dirt on this big name official who clearly has some issues to work out. It's so fuckin hypocritical, too. I've never stolen dvds from Costco, but I've done plenty that would make my parents cry if they saw it in the paper. I guess I'm just doing my job, but it was bothering me all week.
This blog sucks.
Oh, a couple of girls we met at the Cellar were talking about my Collegian stuff and one of them said her favorite column was the "love one." I know all I wrote was bullshit, but the fact that this girl had a favorite and it was something I wrote more than three years ago, that was kind of crazy. And kind of cool. So here's the "love one" (just in case anyone else thinks its funny):

Working off the rumors that I am a cynic and hate the world, I will dispel this notion by using the word “love” in every sentence of this column. This is not a joke. Everything that follows is from my heart.
I love non-alcoholic beer. I love naked men.
I love the bookstore. I love how profits go toward the endowment. I love how we need to inflate the endowment to $6 trillion instead of saving students money. I love how when I return a textbook, the cashier must check it over for nine hours as if I may have covered the pages in anthrax (it was just flour from my Friday night cooking class).
I love The Pier. I love how they put amusement park lines at The Pier. I love how that is not annoying at all. I love how they charge $4.50 for the special so I can’t afford a drink, when the only thing special is if you don’t die after eating it.
I love going to Great Clips and getting a haircut for $3. I love how I ignore that the lady tried to bite my ear and shave my legs the last time I went in there.
I love the IFC. I love how making it a hassle to go to The Row will increase drunk driving off campus. I love how we are more concerned with financial liability than human lives. Yeah, I love death.
I love John Mayer. I love how he can sing about someone’s body being a wonderland and not be bombarded with questions about his sexuality.
I love people who leave me five minute voicemails on a Saturday night challenging me to a “duel of words.” I love how this made me laugh so hard, I thought I capsized a lung.
I love Natalia Green. I love when we mud wrestle on the IM fields. If we were married, I would love how she’d slap a parking ticket on the family car even though she was the last one to use it. I would love it if she would bear my children.
Me: I love you, honey.
Natalia: I love to beat you senseless, boy.
I love waking up on a Sunday morning and finding the sink covered in bodily fluids. I love how people think the janitors report to work at 3 a.m. on the weekend.
I love washing my clothes once a month. I love how girls find this attractive.
I love downloading illegal music. I love the thrill I get when it says “file complete.”
I love being called immature for saying the word “penis” in the paper. Sometimes I would love a hug when people hurt my feelings like that . I love how my parents would make me change my name to Immature if it was legal.
I love going to the post office six times a day to stare into the empty box. I love reaching my hand all the way in and yelling, “Hey, I got a big one!”
I love how Information Services has not called me about a job. I love how there must have been more-qualified applicants to sit in front of a computer and direct people to the stapler.
I love that my roommate is binge drinking in Mexico. I love how he was asked to write a few paragraphs encouraging students to study abroad in Mexico. I love how he was told the parts about drinking and how Mexican food compares to Taco Bell would have to be edited out. I love how this is not edited: Study abroad in Mexico = Binge drinking tequila.
I love when there are naked football players roaming the halls (Seriously, this is funny although I try to keep my head up at all times). I love when they yell, “Mangina” with their manhood tucked between their legs. I love when one of them winks at me as I walk by.
I love how the freshmen class is the smartest in the history of mankind. I love how I pay them to do my homework since the junior class is almost as dumb as the senior class (jk, LOL, paying people do your homework must be a violation of some sort).
I love when my voicemail friends claimed I “didn’t have the kahunas to transfer.” I love that no matter how big my kahunas may or may not be, I would never have transferred from this school. I love this University more than Clinton loves hummers. I just love causing trouble a little bit more…