I'm Wearing a Hoodie to the Last Game

Greetings. I wanted to hit you with a quick post since I leave tomorrow for sunny Columbus, OH, home of the Ohio State Buckeyes. Michigan travels to Ohio State to DOCUME%7E1/John/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot-6.jpg" alt="" />renew what is arguably the best rivalry in college sports. This year I don't know how much of a game it's going to be since Michigan has had it's worst football season since George Washington chopped that cherry tree, or something. This is kind of how I envision the game going.

Wedgie.

From all accounts, including Michigan and OSU fans, the Ohio State fans are absolutely horrible. Like, they are crazy, and will fight, and will throw things and dump tar on puppies. So my goal is to not die, which I think I can handle reasonably well. Trying to hop onto someone's porch and have a beer a la Penn State will be something that I will avoid at all costs. A win at Ohio State will make Michigan fans feel a ton better but Ohio State is really solid, so I'm not holding my breath.

As of late I've started feeling like a senior and this is for several reasons. One, because I only have six months of school left, or maybe more like five, and two, because I turned 27 today, and going to Scorekeepers makes me feel a little bit more like an old dirty man each day. It's not enough to deter me from going but it's enough to make me think about it. Now last year Scorekeepers (Skeeps) was the spot and I don't think my friends and I missed a single Tuesday or Saturday there Jan through April. For whatever reason we gave up on it a bit this year, but we all made a pact (this is what you have to do if you are old ass bitches like we are) that we were going to not go home after our class let out at 10p and we were go to Skeeps. So we went. And as I've said before, please Lord let me never have a daughter, please Lord let me never have a daughter. Maybe you remember how Mike Tyson used to enter the ring wearing simply a towel with a hole cut for the head. If not, here is it.

I wish the pic was bigger because you could see how bad ass this guy looked. Since then things have kind of gone downhill for Mr. Tyson, but back then, sweet Jesus, watch out. Now picture that towel, but then cut off about two-thirds of it and somehow make it a woman's shirt, and that my friends is the dress code at Skeeps. So these girls dress like bad asses in a different kind of way. So to the girls, I say, "go on with your bad selves". To the guys, seriously, what is this all about. I didn't get the memo, but apparently you have to wear a hooded sweatshirt out at all times. And not only that but underneath you need a cool $50 t-shirt. Granted, these guys are the ones who end up getting the girls, but we're talking about undergrad dating so nobody knows anything anyway. What seems somewhat apparent is that "Hooded Sweatshirtitude" is directly correlated with "douchebaggery".

Like if you wear this sweatshirt it's like, okay, whatever, I'm cold and I'm going to sit in the corner and smoke cigarettes and I may need a lint roller for the dog hair.

But then maybe you kick it up a notch and wear this which says, ok, I've seen some pics of Kanye, and I'm trying to be stylish without being offensive.




Or maybe you just turn up the volume and wear this, which to me says, "Oh shit, someone spilled paint on me...pysch...it comes like this, and I paid $300 to look like someone spilled on me. What up now, son."

I don't have any "cool" hooded sweatshirts, although I think I'd like to have one. Maybe. Maybe not.

So I'm going to call it quits and read some HBS case which I am pretty much sick of at this point, but I'm not complaining because I don't have anything to complain about these days. Have a good weekend folks.

Flux Capacitors and Whatnot

Man, that was an interesting week. I'm in my pajamas this grey Friday and I'm another week closer to graduation, which is something I've been thinking a lot about recently, mostly because when I leave this place the days of blogging on a lazy Friday in my pajamas while listening to music are so going to be over it's not even funny. Speaking of work and being a grown up one day, my future employer had a recruiting dinner last night and it was pretty nice to be on the other side of the table this year answering questions and sitting back and relaxing a bit. I really don't like "holding court" at these recruiting events but I didn't find it to be that much of a drag. In fact it was kind of nice. My only major qualm was that the guy next to me was ruining his Blue Label by mixing it with Coke. Other than that, put me at a dinner where I'm getting fed like a champion, and give me a captive audience that is going to laugh at all my jokes and I'm like a little piggy in shit.

This year's Corporate Finance prospectives/recruits are once again are a very international, heavily Asian-skewed group. As a Caucasian male (with a some flava) I am in the minority. So this brings me to my story du jour. So a Chinese, a Pakastani, a French Canadian, and an American walk into class.... and while this might sound like it's the preamble to some joke, it really was the preamble to my week, which kind of was like a joke come to think of it. I'm taking a CleanTech Venture Assessment class. "That's cool", you say, to which I reply, "eh, maybe, maybe not". Our work for this course centers around assessing a CleanTech, you know, venture or whatever. On Monday we got our teams and projects (my team consisting of the aforementioned motley crew), and like a swift kick to the mid-section, my team was informed on Monday that on Thursday we had to present our initial assessment of the technology, which was thin film solar and specifically, OLEDs, which obviously stands for Organic Light Emitting Diodes. Obviously. So how this class works is that there's one MBA in each group and the rest are Masters of Engineering aka Masters of Nerdometry. So it was going to be me mobilizing the United Nations Army to get this project done. And here were some issues.


Issue #1: Will the Real Xiaopei please stand up?

There was a person in my group named Xiaopei (Sh-ow-pay). When I set up the meeting to meet and hash out a powerpoint presentation I had no idea who this Xiaopei character was, and not to be all racialist here, but there may or may not be a few Asians who are Masters of Engineering students. So I'm sitting in the lobby of the Bioengineering Building and I'm trying to find Xiaopei. At this point, I'm not wearing my glasses, so when I'm not rocking my specs I've been known to squint a little. So there I am, this "round-eye", squinting at every Asian walking by, guy or girl, and asking them if they were Xiaopei, which unfortunately for my cause sounded a lot like Sharpei.

I said Xiaopei, not Sharpei.

It was going to be a matter of time before someone came back and knocked me out with a laptop or named me Biggot of the Year. Thankfully, I only embarrassed myself for 5-10 mins before the real Xiaopei (a girl) emerged. Good lord, this was not a good start.


Issue #2: And we're talking about what exactly?

So after Team United Nations finally sat down, them engineering cats started talking all kinds of craziness. I think they were speaking Wookie for a minute. This is the marketing position statement we came up with and by "we" I mean not me.

"For the manufacturer of solar panels using thin film, the OLAMco Organic Bilayer Nanoparticle Thin Film is more efficient and more economical than other thin film because it uses a patented nanoparticle technology that lowers costs by using organic materials instead of costly polysilicon or metal oxide materials and a patented manufacturing process which enables large format applications and a more robust finished product."

Well, duh.

I was trying to contribute to the tech talk, but let's just say that my "chlorophyll...more like BORE-ophyll" joke fell on deaf ears.

Anyway, there were several different kinds of language barriers in place and that's an understatement.


Issue #3: Time Crunch


Turning this thing around was not particularly easy either. I guess because all I do is group work I come off being that Type-A b-school guy who is checking in to make sure everything is going as expected. I am surely more mellow than "that guy" but someone has to be the heavy sometimes. Despite the challenges we actually put something pretty solid together and like I told my group, at 6pm on Thursday we'll be done and it is what it is. And it was. Mission Accomplished. Now all I have to do is figure out what the hell we actually said.

About that Vote...

...I rocked that ish. It's been a gorgeous week in Ann Arbor, and I'm sitting in my apartment, the sun is setting and I'm listening to The Isley Brothers greatest hits, which I most certainly did not download illegally from the internets. I think voting in a college town is particularly interesting because students get really fired up and emotional about voting. Unfortunately, on Tuesday people were getting fired up because the lines to vote were really long, and the A-M line was waaaay long than the N-Z line. True, there are probably more people with last names with A-M than N-Z, but what made it worse was that the woman volunteer who was doing the paperwork at the front of the A-M line was so damn slow it was painful. The reason she was slow was kind of amusing though. See, this woman was probably pushing close to three bills, and she had decided to rest her breasts on the table for support or whatever. The problem arose when she had to find people's names to sign them in and give them the voting materials because her breasts kept blocking her view of the names. So basically a local woman's breasts almost thwarted democracy in Ann Arbor on Tuesday. But we prevailed, as did Obama, and Obama supporter or not you gotta be at least a little excited. How Obama can possibly live up to all these expectations, I just don't know, but I'm interested to see how this all is going to play out. So that was last Tuesday and I'm going to take it back to last weekend for a Halloween recap.

For whatever reason I'm apparently 9 years old and I got an ear infection last week, which meant I had to go on meds, and thus had to curb all alcohol consumption, which was fine, but it's a lot easier to get fired up about Halloween after a couple of porch sodas, ya know? I went to a Halloween party last Friday, not dressed up and ready to just say hello and then head back home. But a funny thing happened on the way to the party. I just looked around at all the crazy nonsense walking the streets of Ann Arbor and I started getting jealous of all the fun I was going to miss out on. When I arrived at the party I went up to my buddy who wasn't dressed up either and I said very simply, "we need to get costumes and we need to go to Rick's". So in a matter of 20 minutes we had rustled up some costumes and were ready to rock. And let me tell you, Rick's was an absolute shit show. Dogs making out with cats, Borats making out with Crayola Crayons, bananas making out with Pocahontases...complete insanity. There were some inappropriately awesome costumes this year which again makes me hope I never have a daughter. I think the most ridiculous costume was one I saw last Thursday. Some girl was outside at 1am in red boyshorts/underwear and a bra and she was standing face pressed to the wall of the parking garage across the street from my place, I'm assuming trying to grab some warmth from the wall or something (I don't think she was sober). Every single car slowed down to look at her, and shady guys were yelling to her from out their cars as if she was literally a prostitute. I'm still not sure if she was actually a student or a real life prostitute because I still can't figure out what her costume could've been aside from "Whore". Like does Ricky's sell prepacked "Whore" costumes like they do Snow White and Naughty Nurse or whatever? Maybe. For whatever reason there were an abundance of smurfs this year, which always reminds me of this clip from Family Guy...



On a college campus the best part of Halloween is seeing girls in costume walk home in the morning. I would easily drop a large sum of money to see the girl who dressed as a Smurf (blue face and body paint and all) walk home through the Diag in the morning. Yeah, I'm going to miss college when I leave this place. What I will not miss are those damn crows which are back again this year. As documented back last November these crows or as I call them, messengers of the devil, have decided to wake me up at ungodly hours the past week with their caw-ing. I am literally thinking of hiring some redneck to shoot them. In the event I don't get torn to shreds by these birds I'll be making my way "downtown" to Main St. this evening to see what's good in the A2. I'm guessing probably not too much, but it's worth a try. Have a good weekend loyal readers. Caw.

Dear Dairy

Yes dairy, not diary. I got some dairy related issues right now. I'm a little sick and I can't smell my milk, so I don't know if it's bad or not. I know that religious Jews who strictly observe the sabbath have non-Jews turn on the lights and other appliances for them because it's illegal to turn on anything on the sabbath if you're observant like that. Well if there's someone who goes around turning on lights for those who can't turn on lights shouldn't there be someone to go around smelling milk f0r those who can't smell their milk?

Rebecca Romijn-NotStamos, please smell my milk.

If my mammary serves me correctly it's been a week since I've bought milk, but breast assured, as soon as I'm feeling better I'm going to go out and buy at least two jugs. I mean, I'm a growing boy here and I need my vitamin D. Ah, but there are many ways to get your dairy and your vitamin D. After all there's cheese.

Yes, there is cheese, but there's also the African American man behind the deli counter at Kroger who I think thinks I'm racist. This guy seems to be a really nice guy, but I swear to you he is trying to make me out to be racist or something. For example, when I go up to the counter I'll order Boar's Head Black Forest Ham, because a) Boar's Head is the best, and b) I like their black forest ham. Simple enough. So the guy will go to the back of the deli station and he'll yell to me "what kind of ham do you want!?", and I yell to him "Black forest ham, please!", and he'll say, "what forest ham?" and I'll say "black forest ham", and he'll say "Cracked forest ham!?", and I'll say "no. black. forest. ham". And then he'll kind of give me this look like, "oh now you going yell black all loud and stuff in the middle of a supermarket, you cracker ass cracker mayonnaise-and-white-bread-eatin' motherfucka". I mean, what am I supposed to do, I want my Boar's Head Black Forest Ham. So when he's done he'll come up and give me my ham and ask me if that's all, and that's never all. I usually want some cheese too and I like cheddar so of course this guy, trying to pin me into corner, leans in and says all softly, "white cheddar or yellow cheddar?". I mean, it's like he's asking me "Confederacy cheddar, or Union cheddar?", and he says it with a look that says, "go ahead honky, order the white cheddar, go ahead and order your supremacist cheddar you close-minded no-rhythm bitch". So of course I always go with the yellow cheddar because I don't want to be a racist cheese-orderer. I really don't know what to do, but every week I just keep coming back for more. I think the safe bet is going with roast beef and the colby jack next time.


Apropos of nothing, Halloween is on the horizon, and we all know what this means...invasion of the "sexy bumblebees!!"

Sexy Bumblebees...usually a bunch of tricks.

If I can't muster up a story for you about Halloween then I'm turning in my pen, or modem, or computer, or whatever.

Jersey Shore State Bank

I don't even know where to begin, so I'll begin before the beginning. Last Friday I took arguably the toughest exam I've ever taken. It was the kind of exam where you flip through the pages looking for something to answer first. I flipped through 3 times before I put pen to paper. After the bloodbath I really didn't have time to let said impossible test marinate because it was time to drive to Penn State.

Penn State is not close. In fact, it is far, like 7 hours far. We had four cars caravanning (is that a word?) to State College where we were going to be crashing with a friend of ours whose family is from State College. We were going to be 15 or so people sleeping on air mattresses and in sleeping bags on the floor of a friends house. We arrived in State College around 8pm and my first reaction was "wow, this is 10 times better than South Bend Indiana". So the moral of the story is never go to South Bend. As we drove through town in the dark we drove by a bank, not just any bank, but the Jersey Shore State Bank. My mind started to wander. What could possibly go on inside the Jersey Shore State Bank? I pictured 'roided up guys yelling across the counter, "2.7% for a 6-month CD!? Are you kidding me bro? I will end you. I will fucking end you". And I pictured female tellers with too much makeup, Gucci glasses atop their heads, and some WT tatoo on their lower back saying in that oh-so-charming Southern Jersey accent "help ya'self to some of those beggels and cream cheese over dere". I dreamed of customers pounding red bulls and spiking their hair as they waited in line to deposit their stimulus checks. Really, the possibilities were endless.

Now as a disclaimer, I know a couple people who went to Penn State and they are cool, nice, friendly, engaging, and all-around good people. Now that I've said that I can continue.

We all arrived at my friend's place and she had a case of Yeungling already chilling on ice for all of us, and then we ordered pizza, and then it was time to hit the bars. It was alumni weekend so apparently getting to the bar at 9:30 wasn't too early. Who was I to argue. We arrived at The Big Easy and commenced drinking. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, we arrived just as $1 drink specials began. By 11pm most of were cracked out on cheap vodka and jager bombs. Me, not so much, because drinking all that liquid means trips to the bathroom and for whatever reason, in Penn State the men's bathroom lines are about 30 times longer than the women's bathroom lines. Now by 12pm it was getting kind of meaty in the bar. You just got that feeling that all the dudes in there had come straight from central casting for Growing Up Gotti and they all wanted to fight.

Yup, just like this.

I witnessed a guy taking a pool stick into the men's room and cracking it in half over a urinal and then walking out. I mean, what? There were several "almost fights" waiting for the bathroom, and it was 600 degrees which made it even worse because all these guys had their hair gel dripping into their eyes, so if a punch was thrown I was convinced because of the blurred vision that I'd be the Rudy Tomjanovic to someone's Kermit Washington.

Um, Ouch.

Anyway, somewhat fearful for my life, I just tried to blend in with the crowd so I too pretended to spike my hair while waiting in line and muttered "ayysshole" under my breath like everyone else in the bar seemed to be doing. As for the "ladies in place with style and grace", there were none. I think maybe people were getting their dates mixed up because Halloween wasn't for a few a weeks, but every girl seemed to want to dress like everyone's favorite questionable bi-sexual, Tila Tequila

And if every girl looked like this we would've stuck around, but it was more like every girl was wearing an outfit like the one above but had no business wearing an outfit like the one above. Not that I've been to those trashy bars on the Shore, but I imagined that the Big Easy, or as I would've called it, the Big Sleazy, is basically the Shore transplanted in State College. It was time to move on.

We stumbled out onto the appropriately named "Beaver Street" and headed into an Irish Pub. Wait, didn't we already do the whole Irish pub thing at Notre Dame? Whatever. We headed down into some dungeon where we proceeded to stand on tables and drink pitchers. It was hot, sweaty, crowded, and hot, and sweaty. Did I mention that it was crowded? I did? Ok, because it was hot, sweaty and crowded. At 2am when the bars closed the entire student population poured out onto the streets. Priority #1 for me was finding food, and the line at Pita Grill was out the door and around the block. A buddy yelled out "Finger, let's go find some parties", and I don't know what the hell I was thinking, but I followed. I probably heard "Finger, let's go find some Smarties" and was so hungry that I followed in the hope of scoring some chalky tasting candy to eat.

Not my first pick for a post-bar meal, but whatever.

So I headed off into the night with my buddy and our mission was to "hey, let's just follow the music", and follow the music we did. We went to about five house parties. We just walked in, and we got some strange looks, but because it was alumni weekend maybe people gave us a pass. I don't know. We finally found our holy grail, a house with a huge wrap-around porch with people hanging out drinking. We walked right up and started pumping the keg. In about 10 seconds some guy comes up and I proceed to have the following conversation.

Mr. Nittany Lion: Hey do you know anyone who lives here?
Me: No. We're just looking for a place to hang out for a minute.
Mr. Nittany Lion: You should probably leave.
Me: Ok, no problem, we'll just finish these beers and leave.
Mr. Nittany Lion: No, I mean get off my porch, like now.
Me: Oh, ok, got it.

That's what I'm saying about PSU. People are angry as hell. As an undergrad if someone walked up to my party that was outside and crowded at 3am wanting to hang out we would've welcomed them, or at the very least allowed them to stay. At Penn State you just get the sense people are looking to fight. So we moved on to the next place. We met a girl who was outside cleaning up her porch a few houses over. Being the gentlemen that we are we asked this girl, Abby, if she needed a hand, to which she answered "oh, no thanks, I'm blacked out right now, so I won't remember how much doing this sucked when I wake up tomorrow". RRRight. Anyway, Abby invited us in for a drink and to hang out with her friends. So there I am with my buddy sitting in some girl's living room with 10 of her friends making funnies and warming up. Then I think we started to feel awkward and we left to find a cab. Too bad there are two cabs in the entire town of State College and one was in the shop. Big problem. It felt like negative 2 degrees and we needed a ride. Then we bumped into some other folks and start talking about the Phillies and the Eggles and 700 Level, blah blah. Still no cab. So it's coming up on 3:45 and we are freezing our asses off. I suggest we wait in the gas station to warm up, so I go in the gas station and I see some kid buying a burrito and I say to the kid, I say, "excuse me sir, I hate to impose, but my buddy and I are from out of town and we can't find a cab, and we were wondering if we could pay you 10 bucks to drive us home...." and the guy looks at us, kind of cocks his head to the side, squints, and says, "yeah sure man, I used to deliver pizza so I know this area really well". I triumphantly open the door of the gas station and say to my buddy, "We got a ride". And that "my friends", is how we were "mavericks" on the night of October 17th and found a way home against all odds.

The next morning we awoke to the smell of fresh banana bread and coffee as our host's mom had so graciously cooked us breakfast. Seriously. I heart me some banana bread. After eating and bundling up we headed to the RV lot near the stadium. All I can say is that Penn State tailgating is awesome. There were probably 600 RVs, and that was just the RV lot. There were probably close to a billion people tailgating, maybe a billion and a half, I really couldn't tell. And on top of that these fans go all out. At one point I was in the port-o-potty and of the 5 surrounding stalls, I think people were vomiting in at least 3 of them. Go hard or go home. In terms of space and tailgate awesomeness, you can sure do a lot when you're school is set in the rolling hills of the Nittany Mountains. Here are some pics...

Word.
Environmentally conscious Bloody Mary. No plastic cups involved. Reducing carbon footprint.
Party on Garth. Party on Wayne.

Since it was a 4:30 kick-off we were outside entirely too long. A 4:30 kick is truly a test of stamina. We linked up with a friend's friend's tailgate and thank goodness they had a box of soft pretzels because without them I think we all would've died. The tailgate got kind of crazy but I don't have the strength to write about all the details. All I can say is that by the time Michigan rumbled in for their first touchdown we were all pretty juiced and psyched that maybe we wouldn't get absolutely hammered by Penn State...oh well. But hey, at least we got our ass kicked with some gorgeous views...

Not to get all mushy on ya'll but with the leaves turning and the sun setting, it was kind of nice. When your team is getting killed I guess you appreciate the little things. Anyway, the PSU student section...impressive. The stadium...impressive. The team...very impressive.

We left the game with about 10 mins left, and headed to the bar. Without boring you all, let's just say that more hilarity ensued and the next morning we left. And here I am, on Fall break, under the weather from burning the candle on both ends. Aside from the brutally long drive it was a solid trip and if you New Yorkers ever want to get out and see real college football and tailgating, I recommend making the somewhat short (3.5 hr) trip to Happy Valley. I think it's worth it and so does this guy.

Everybody, Joe Pa. Joe Pa, Everybody.

Asian (Con)Fusion

It's exam time, and I just had my first exam. The class was Corporate Financial Policy. Now I know to buy low and sell high, and then there was some other stuff about some other stuff that I can't remember. I don't think I've ever had a class that's covered more material. And because of the breadth of material the 8.5x11 formula sheet we're allowed to use becomes your best friend. Everyone comes with their sheet and it's usually in 2pt font and everyone's squinting about 4 inches from their sheet the entire time. Sometimes I think about pulling out one of those watchmaker monocles, because shit, if this guy can rock one then so can I.

"Robot. Clooney. Want. To. Save. Darfur. And. Make. Sweet. Love. To. Models. Ocean's 45. Will. Be. In. Theaters. In. The. Year. 3030. Check. It. Out."

And the crazy thing is that you really hardly have time to consult your formula sheet. You kind of either know it or you don't, but don't get me wrong, when you realize you put an example on the sheet and that same example comes up in the test you feel like a million dollars (tax shelters included). Anyway, the way it went last year was that there was a forced curve, so someone was going to end up at the low end of the class and get a "Low Pass". Getting a Low Pass is kind of like getting a Scarlet Letter back in 17th Century Puritan Boston. It's like, okay, maybe I'm a little bit of a slut and I like having a good time and I could've studied harder and not be so adulterous, but no need to get all righteous about it because all ya'll wish you were having as much fun as me. My feeling about Low Passes...it builds character. Nowadays, because we're all grown ass men and women in our second year of school there's no forced curve and no forced Low Passes. We're in class because we want to be in class. Still, the Low Pass isn't totally out of the question. However, in my class there are a ton of Korean students who are here for the semester on an abroad program. I never hear them speaking english, they dress in earth tones, they all wear vests, they travel in packs, and they have Hello Kitty backpacks.

Hello. Kitty.

Ok, maybe they don't have Hello Kitty backpacks. What they all have though is academic prowess. The only issue for them is that it's probably hard as hell to take a 2 hour test comprised mostly of writing english about corporate financial policy. They always look confused and I can understand this. It's like me going to Korea and taking a class, in Korean, and taking a test in Korean. I don't know what I'd do. I'd probably write bibimbop 300 times, and draw a Hello Kitty. The point being, if I'm confused about what the hell the question is asking, they've gotta be confused as well. So while I take these tests and I'm confused, I know that there are at least 3 foreign students who are REALLY confused, and thus I can avoid the Low Pass.

It's about 80 degrees right now and while my body is telling me to go play golf, my mind is saying, just study a few more days. This weekend I'm off to Happy Valley (Penn State) to watch the #3 team in the country take Michigan out behind the shed. Should be good times. Hopefully there will be another roadtrip pictorial forthcoming.

Think Fast

Yom Kippur is tomorrow which means that I'm going to be a grouchy bitch when I wake up because I'll be fasting and I'll be hungry. I just eat all day long these days. Li'l something here, li'l something there. All I want right now is a huge bowl of popcorn and mint chocolate chip ice cream. Together. In a bowl. Actually, not together. I went to services at school and it's probably the first time I've been to services in over a year, maybe two. The crowd was mostly undergrads and it might as well have been a huge SDT/AEPi mixer. That's really the best way to describe it. On the holiest day of the year I feel like people should dress conservatively. I wore a suit and I was in the minority, so maybe I'm a little ye olde fashioned. The way to best describe the dress code tonight has to be Century 21 meets Rick's meets Cosmetics counter at Bloomingdale's meets Mom's hand-me-down jewelry meets My breasts are hanging of my shirt meets Son, you could use a haircut meets Polo cologne meets Tory Burch meets No, that's not my real nose. Yeah, I think that's about how it was.

In surveying the scene I saw a bunch of girls I'd seen at the bars and it was honestly kind of weird to see them not dressed like hookers. I felt like yelling "wolf in sheep's clothing" several times but decided that on Yom Kippur it's better just to smile and not think about food, not think about food, not think about food. Food. Food. Shit.

With midterms coming up next week it's looking like this weekend is going to be far more tame than the last two. The only drawback to going out hard last Saturday was that people were dragging ass in our softball game last Sunday and we lost to a team comprised of old dudes, scrappy asians, and a girl, no she was more like a mom, a "hockey mom", actually more like a bulldog with lipstick. Sitting on the bench waiting to bat I swear I could smell the jagermeister coming out of everyone's pores. And writing that line kind of makes me want to be sick.

And speaking of being sick, I'm going trade in my MBA for a second and channel the MD in me to just drop a little bit of knowledge. At school everything is covered in germs. You have a bunch of tired people who drink and stay up late and eat like crap, so of course that means that you have a lot of sick people. People are touching the same doorknobs, shaking hands, and kissing the same asses, so germs spread like wildfire. I take vitamins, I wash my hands, but I've taken it a step further by eat chili peppers almost daily. Chili peppers kill bacteria (at least I hope so) and if they don't they've been clearing my sinuses and putting more hair on my chest, which I'm not sure I need. All kidding aside, I've managed to steer clear of the junior varsity sniffles that those amateurs are catching as it starts to get colder. Chili peppers also prevent elephants from ruining your farms, oh yeah they do. So my advice to you is eat chili peppers on the regular, fight sickness, and keep elephants away. I'm pretty sure you're not going to get advice like that on any other blog.