Let Me Tell You About A Porcupines Balls

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Reasons I Got In Trouble In College: Part 2

Inappropriate Use of Housing Equipment

Most nights in student housing were pretty devoid of activities, apart from TV or sex. As such, me and my friends had to find entertainment options, usually involving unwitting participants. Most of these games were usually harmless; and by harmless, I mean that we didn't get any sanctions against us as a result. A few of the games, however, were not so fun for others.

One of these games was called the vacuum game. You see, student housing had old-ass vacuums that had a mechanical switch to turn them off and on. During this game, we'd wait till shortly before midnight, and then retrieve a vacuum from the hall closet. With the power cord completely unfurled, but unplugged, we'd switch the vacuum into the on position. Then, we'd sneak into a room where both occupants were sleeping (dumbasses never locked their doors), and place the vacuum gently into the middle of the room, with the cord trailing out into the hallway. We'd then exit the room, close the door, and plug the vacuum in into one of the hallway outlets, bringing the loud beast to life. The goal of the game was to see which resident could last the longest in their rooms before coming out in a rage. One guy lasted almost five minutes before he noticed...

Another fun, but short lived, game was the stalactite game. The ceilings in the dining room kitchen were made of some shitty cardboard, painted white. Knowing how soft they were, one of my friends would take a bunch of steak knives and throw them point-first into the ceiling tiles, so that they'd stick and dangle there. The object of the game was to lure other occupants of the hall into standing right under them, and carry on a conversation with them for as long as you could to keep them in that spot. Eventually, either a knife would fall, or they'd catch on to us constantly gazing up at the ceiling directly above them. We were sadistic fucks back then.

Let's just say, student housing did not find the game as enjoyable as much as 4% of the hall did. I guess they had some aversion to bodily injury via knife.

Inciting Campus Violence

During the early parts of my college career, a world event took place that sparked much controversy; the second invasion of Iraq. Being that our university was the pinnacle of liberal areas in the entire state, naturally a lot of students felt they needed to voice their opinions about this. Let me preface this story by saying the following: I'm not a conservative. I'm 100% pro voicing your dissenting opinion, as long as you doing that doesn't interfere with my day-to-day happenings.

Hundreds of idiot students felt however, that their views could be best expressed by blocking the main sidewalk on campus, holding picket signs, and yelling at students passing by to sign some bullshit petition that would ultimately change nothing. I did not approve.

Taking advantage my one of my friends abilities to drive on campus, thanks to a handicapped placard, I decided to strike. I took several large pieces of cardboard, and fashioned them together into an old-fashioned sandwich board. Then wrote on both sides, in large black marker, "Hippies Go Home". I think we can see where this is going.

My friend and his car, me and my sandwich board, and another friend with a video camera set out on our strike mission; with the aim to give students the ability to safely use the sidewalk sans-harassment. Video camera man walked there ahead of us, and pretended to just be filming the rally, surely giving the protesters a false sense of importance. Little did they know, that in a matter of minutes I had arrive and exited the incursion vehicle with my board o' sensibility, when I then began chanting the aforementioned message displayed on it.

Naturally, several of the more uppity hippies were greatly offended by my ability to protest their protest. Perhaps even fueled by the rage of knowing that mine would have far more impact than theirs. Regardless, after several minutes of chanting and intimidation, I had to reenter the incursion vehicle and exit; lest the people protesting the unnecessary use of violence on innocent Iraqis use unnecessary force against an innocent student. Thus completing the cycle of asinine and contradictory things hippies pretend to care about.

This would have been a less offensive sign, it seems

Assault on Woodland Animals

One day after receiving my recommended daily value of education, I was walking home and noticed an odd sound coming from right outside next to the building fire escape. Naturally, I made my way out to the 'scape to investigate.

What I found was a squirrel out on nearby tree limb, making squeaking sounds, with one of it's leg lifted up. I was saddened by the creatures seemingly obvious injury. Others noticed my outside activities, and came out as well, where I shared my sadness with them. But then...it happened

The squirrel, whom I thought was quite plainly injured, stopped making the noise and started walking around on all fours with no noticeable limping. That's right; he was a faker, and he was going to pay for his ruse. I armed myself with several small rocks from the rock garden below the 'scape, and began and unrelenting carpet bombing of tree-dwelling rodents, the likes of which the world had never seen.

Because I'm white, I never actually hit the squirrel, although that didn't stop it from making angry chattering noises at me. Soon, I had exhausted my supply of rocks, and knew my vengeance would need to take a better, and more efficient form. Luckily, I had an idea for just such a thing. I hid myself inside the building, and watched from a nearby window, waiting for the squirrel to celebrate his supposed victory over me. After a few minutes, I witnessed the squirrel climb down the tree, and go to the spot where it had been burying precious walnuts for use in the winter.

I sprang into action and marched, chest all puffed out, over to newly revealed cache. The squirrel jumped into another tree, and just watched; watched as I grabbed his precious food stuffs and took them back into my residence. I knew when winter came, he'd be in a world of hurt, and he'd probably have to rethink his actions; assuming he even lived.

Boo fucking hoo, it's a damn squirrel. Get over it.

Bazooka or not, without walnuts, he's as good as dead

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