Last year, I decided to put an IU Law sticker on my car...it took me about 4 months to finally decide on a good one and get up the nerve to stick it on my little Focus friend. Thus, I am baffled at the lack of thought people put into placing bumper stickers on their cars-bumper stickers that are much less benign than a simple
"Indiana University." By less benign, I don't mean malevolent. Of course there are those kinds, but I know what motivates the assholes that put them on their car to do so. (It's the same thing that makes them rev their engines at stop lights and gel their hair). What I mean are the utterly stupid and pointless ones that people stick on their cars without a second thought. Here are a few:
"Those who work don't know how to fish"
Umm...doesn't EVERYONE know how to fish? You stand there, bring your arm behind your head, then propel it forward. After that, you sit around and drink beer for approximately 5 hours. If something seems to be biting your line, it's probably seaweed, but you can fake excitment and wind up your little string if you want. Fishing accomplished.
I get the point though, we all work too hard, we should just do something relaxing like fish instead of getting all worked up over the Dow Jones Industrial Average, blah blah. A more accurate sticker would read: "Those who work don't have time to sit around and drink beer all day with a stick in their hand, probably because they are too busy supporting their no-good Uncle Chip, who refuses to work and, instead, fishes all day." So maybe I'm not the best bumper sticker writer, but at least mine would be practical.
"And on the Seventh Day, God created Bagpipes."
I dare you to tell me I'm making this one up. I saw it every single day that I walked home from class in college on a car in a parking lot near my apartment. And not one day passed that I didn't see it and think, "Who the hell would put that on their car?" I mean, bagpipes suck. They're loud, the sound they make is painful, and they're gigantic. I pray for the poor kids that take up the bagpipes and have to carry them onto the school bus each day. But that's fine, to each his own. I accept that some people love the soulful tunes that eminate from these bags of air. But I cannot accept that there are people on this earth that love them so much that they see them as a gift from God. It's not a very likely scenario, at least to me, that, after God made the planet and all the animals and stuff, he was like, "Alright, now all I have left are Adam and Eve and some giant plaid bags with tubes coming out so they can play "O Danny Boy" for all of the Garden to hear." And besides, even if that were true, first God would have to create PLAID. Duh.
Anyway, I've thought about several things I truly love, but that I would still not place a similar bumper sticker on my car for.
"And on the Seventh Day, God created Edy's Slow-Churned Ice Cream"
"And on the Seventh Day, God created the Terry's Village catalog"
"And on the Seventh Day, God created 'Jon and Kate Plus 8'"
Nope, these would all suck. Man created all of these things, including bagpipes, which suck the worst out of all four items. God created man, who also, in turn, created a horrible bumper sticker proclaiming a man-made nuisance to be a gift from God. Funny how the universe works.
"Cement parking lots are best."
I've kept this one locked away in my heart since high school. I still have yet to understand it. Is there some sort of underground subversive force trying to push an anti-cement agenda that we just don't know about? What else are parking lots even made out of? Gravel, I guess. And, you know, now that I think about it, cement parkings lots are way better than gravel ones. Sometimes, if you accelerate too fast in gravel, your wheels spin. Plus, gravel gets into your shoes. I HAVE SEEN THE LIGHT! Cement parking lots ARE best! F it, I'm going to Ebay to see if I can get myself one of these bumper stickers.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Update
I have to update my old people post with a new story. The other day E and I were sitting on the front "porch" of our apartment eating dinner with our dog. We live in what can loosely be termed a shithole. Thus, the people that live at our apartment complex that aren't students at IU are, for the most part, crazy people. This isn't me being mean, I'm just giving you all an honest assesment of the population of the complex.
Anyway, there we are enjoying the first warm day Bloomington has had in 162 days, when an older woman that lives across the way strolled past us with her tiny chiuaua. I don't want to ruin anyone's day/life, but, to get the story right, I must tell you that she was wearing some sort of incredibly high-waisted, incredibly tight spandex pants...I hope I don't need to go into further detail to get across the point that we could see things no human should ever be forced to see. If water-boarding gets old at Gitmo, they could send this lady over there in those pants and the terrorists would sing like canaries.
So, she walks her little dog right up in front of our porch. Neither E or I are particularly friendly people nor tolerant of old folks so we obviously avoided looking at her. Nevertheless, she just stood there, about 6 feet away, staring at us. Just. Staring. This went on for a good 45 seconds...I get a sick feeling in my stomach even thinking about it now.
Finally, she asked if our dog was the one making all that noise earlier in the day. Our dog has a love/hate relationship with his crate that occassionally causes him to wail like a toddler when we're gone. No one that lives in our building has EVER complained about it...mostly b/c they are all students who have lives and are, thus, not home during the day to hear him. This woman, however, has complained to the apartment management about him crying. Yes, this woman, who lives in a completely different building about 100 feet away from where we live. You know why? Because old people are MEDDLERS. Whatever, though, she can bitch all she wants because the management told us not to worry about it. So, this is all beside the point.
We barely answered her after she dissed our dog, but, NATURALLY, she didn't take the hint. More staring for about 30 more seconds. Then, a discussion about, I kid you not, the bowel movements of her dog. Ohhh yes, her dog had bad breath so, of course, she had to change his food! Well, he didn't like this food, isn't that interesting? But, don't worry, he finally ate it on Sunday. And, as if you weren't concerned enough, he FINALLY pooped later Sunday evening. PHEWWWW!
Eventually, either our disinterest made an impact or her craziness made her forget where she was and she walked home-only to emerge a few minutes later, at 7:30 in the evening, with the sun still at least 1 hour from setting, in her pajamas and bathrobe.
Sigh. I don't really have a concluding sentence. I just thought that maybe if I wrote about it, the memory would go away...
Anyway, there we are enjoying the first warm day Bloomington has had in 162 days, when an older woman that lives across the way strolled past us with her tiny chiuaua. I don't want to ruin anyone's day/life, but, to get the story right, I must tell you that she was wearing some sort of incredibly high-waisted, incredibly tight spandex pants...I hope I don't need to go into further detail to get across the point that we could see things no human should ever be forced to see. If water-boarding gets old at Gitmo, they could send this lady over there in those pants and the terrorists would sing like canaries.
So, she walks her little dog right up in front of our porch. Neither E or I are particularly friendly people nor tolerant of old folks so we obviously avoided looking at her. Nevertheless, she just stood there, about 6 feet away, staring at us. Just. Staring. This went on for a good 45 seconds...I get a sick feeling in my stomach even thinking about it now.
Finally, she asked if our dog was the one making all that noise earlier in the day. Our dog has a love/hate relationship with his crate that occassionally causes him to wail like a toddler when we're gone. No one that lives in our building has EVER complained about it...mostly b/c they are all students who have lives and are, thus, not home during the day to hear him. This woman, however, has complained to the apartment management about him crying. Yes, this woman, who lives in a completely different building about 100 feet away from where we live. You know why? Because old people are MEDDLERS. Whatever, though, she can bitch all she wants because the management told us not to worry about it. So, this is all beside the point.
We barely answered her after she dissed our dog, but, NATURALLY, she didn't take the hint. More staring for about 30 more seconds. Then, a discussion about, I kid you not, the bowel movements of her dog. Ohhh yes, her dog had bad breath so, of course, she had to change his food! Well, he didn't like this food, isn't that interesting? But, don't worry, he finally ate it on Sunday. And, as if you weren't concerned enough, he FINALLY pooped later Sunday evening. PHEWWWW!
Eventually, either our disinterest made an impact or her craziness made her forget where she was and she walked home-only to emerge a few minutes later, at 7:30 in the evening, with the sun still at least 1 hour from setting, in her pajamas and bathrobe.
Sigh. I don't really have a concluding sentence. I just thought that maybe if I wrote about it, the memory would go away...
Friday, March 28, 2008
George W. Bush
I don't generally like to talk about politics unless and until I'm in the mood to raise my blood pressure to dangerous levels. Since I've had a migraine all day, I'm not going to get into the Bush tax cuts that only benefit the people who need money the least. Nor am I going to discuss the No Child Left Behind Act, which, as we all know, leaves children and even entire schools behind everyday. Nope, definitely don't want to talk about the destruction of civil liberties that was the Patriot Act or his indifference to the suffering of the poor following Hurricane Katrina or his blatant lies to the American people regarding the "involvement" of Saddam Hussein in 9/11 or, good Lord, I'm going to have a stroke.
But I don't have to talk about these things to discuss why I hate the Dubya so much. There's so much about him as a person, not even as a President, that I dislike.
First, he's a moron. I once heard someone say that if he's the President, he MUST be smart. Wrong. I definitely believe he plays up his "Ole Slowhand McIdiot" routine so that the average American will say, "Now, here's a guy that's almost as dumb as me. Elect him, by golly, he's so much less boring than the other one, Al BORE (see how clever and quick-witted the average American is?!)." However, you have to have attained a certain level of legitimate dim-wittedness to feel ok saying something like "Do you have blacks, too?" to the Brazilian President, or "You teach a child to read, and he or her will be able to pass a literacy test" at a press conference.
Newsflash, America: Dubya's idiocy is not lovable or endearing. It does not make him a "real" guy, and it certainly doesn't make him a statesman. Maybe I'm just being high-minded, but I would like my President to have a least a vague grasp on pronouns and the way in which we use them in the English language. Do you know why? Because he is the leader of the most powerful nation in the free world! And we can't try get rid of the little shit for at least four years, unless, of course, he gets a blow job from a chubby woman.
I guess I am "misunderestimating" him a bit, though. I mean, after all, he may not be that smart, but he's still President material, right? Oh wait, no, he's not, just watch him speak. Whenever I'm feeling particularly masochistic, I'll watch a Bush press conference. The subject could be any number of very serious topics. Without fail, though, he stands there at his little podium with a shit-eating grin on his face. If I ever meet the big W, ya know, at a bar or something, the first and only question I will ask him will be "WHAT IS SO GODDAMN FUNNY?!" That's usually what I scream at the television, anyway. But seriously, what is it, exactly, that he's so entertained by? Yes, George, isn't it just hilarious that the U.S. death toll in Iraq has topped 4,000? And doesn't it just tickle you pink that North Korea has begun testing its nuclear arsenal? Oh, George, what a side-splitting story about the mortgage crisis!
Someone should tell Georgie Boy that, even if you're so wealthy, powerful, and out-of-touch that you don't have to worry about war casualties or recessions, you would do well to feign interest in these subjects when talking to the American people. And, even if you're so indifferent that faking interest is too burdensome, at least suppress the urge to grin like an ape.
Ok, I can't talk about Dubya anymore or I won't survive until morning. OBAMA RULES!
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Old People
The other day, I just needed to run into the grocery to get one thing. So, my boyfriend (we'll call him E) dropped me off at the door and proceeded to park in a spot in the lot outside the grocery to wait for me. While I was gone, an old man emerged from his shopping trip and got into the car directly across from where E was parked. Soon thereafter, E heard a honk. He looked up and, sure enough, it was the old man, honking at him to back out of the parking spot so that the old man could pull through instead of backing up. Naturally, E found this to be absurd and ignored him. But this persistent octogenarian would not be ignored! He continued to honk and stare until E finally (and incredulously) gave in and backed out of the spot! The man pulled through and drove away. This story perfectly exemplifies my beef with old people.
Apparently the slow crawl towards death makes old people feel superior to others. They do whatever the hell they want without any explanation. They cut in front of you in lines and don't even look at you while they're doing it! And there's nothing anyone can do about it because who wants to be that asshole that yelled at the old person? I'm convinced half of them fake feebleness and dementia just to get away with shit. But who can blame them? It certainly works. Even my stubborn boyfriend was no match for the powers of old people. The old man is his story probably would have sat there all day honking at him before he would allow some young "buck" to make him back up from a parking spot when he could easily pull through. As long as he got home before his 4:00 dinner, his life wouldn't have been affected in the least.
In hindsight, it was probably best to make his exit from the grocery as easy as possible because we all know how terrible old people are at driving. At what age do you forget that turns are to be made from turn lanes not from whatever f-ing lane you're in? Someone should do a scientific study on this. And why exactly does being old make you drive so slow? I've racked my brain, and I simply can't explain it. I would think that if the sand was close to running out of the hourglass for me, I would always be in a hurry! Especially if I was heading to Wendy's for lunch, which of course I would be because all old people love Wendy's. Don't believe me? Next time you drive by one, count how many blue hairs you see inside enjoying a delicious baked potato. If it's not at least 4, you should alert the authorities because something must have happened to all the old folks in your town.
And then, of course, there's the conversations. Old people have NO filter...true to form, they say whatever they want whenever they want. Please recall my earlier story about the old women discussing diarrhea loudly in a waiting room. Often, they'll talk out loud to nobody in particular. This is especially awkward for us young-folk, who usually feel obligated to pretend listen while desperately hoping beyond hope that the person will forget what they were saying and give up. There is an elderly gentleman in my law school class (no, really), and I don't even want to get into the kinds of conversations he has in class. And they occur at the volume level of a sonic boom because he clearly has some sort of hearing loss/indifference to how loud even his whispers are.
Though I dread getting older, I am excited to reach an age where I can do anything I want without impediments. I plan on sending back every item of food I get at resturant, making people as uncomfortable as possible by discussing bodily functions on all buses and airplanes, and "forgetting" how to work my cell phone so that nobody can ever call me again. It will be great!
Apparently the slow crawl towards death makes old people feel superior to others. They do whatever the hell they want without any explanation. They cut in front of you in lines and don't even look at you while they're doing it! And there's nothing anyone can do about it because who wants to be that asshole that yelled at the old person? I'm convinced half of them fake feebleness and dementia just to get away with shit. But who can blame them? It certainly works. Even my stubborn boyfriend was no match for the powers of old people. The old man is his story probably would have sat there all day honking at him before he would allow some young "buck" to make him back up from a parking spot when he could easily pull through. As long as he got home before his 4:00 dinner, his life wouldn't have been affected in the least.
In hindsight, it was probably best to make his exit from the grocery as easy as possible because we all know how terrible old people are at driving. At what age do you forget that turns are to be made from turn lanes not from whatever f-ing lane you're in? Someone should do a scientific study on this. And why exactly does being old make you drive so slow? I've racked my brain, and I simply can't explain it. I would think that if the sand was close to running out of the hourglass for me, I would always be in a hurry! Especially if I was heading to Wendy's for lunch, which of course I would be because all old people love Wendy's. Don't believe me? Next time you drive by one, count how many blue hairs you see inside enjoying a delicious baked potato. If it's not at least 4, you should alert the authorities because something must have happened to all the old folks in your town.
And then, of course, there's the conversations. Old people have NO filter...true to form, they say whatever they want whenever they want. Please recall my earlier story about the old women discussing diarrhea loudly in a waiting room. Often, they'll talk out loud to nobody in particular. This is especially awkward for us young-folk, who usually feel obligated to pretend listen while desperately hoping beyond hope that the person will forget what they were saying and give up. There is an elderly gentleman in my law school class (no, really), and I don't even want to get into the kinds of conversations he has in class. And they occur at the volume level of a sonic boom because he clearly has some sort of hearing loss/indifference to how loud even his whispers are.
Though I dread getting older, I am excited to reach an age where I can do anything I want without impediments. I plan on sending back every item of food I get at resturant, making people as uncomfortable as possible by discussing bodily functions on all buses and airplanes, and "forgetting" how to work my cell phone so that nobody can ever call me again. It will be great!
Friday, March 7, 2008
Law School
Law school is, without a doubt, the worst thing I have ever experienced. I think I had more fun when I had dry socket after getting my wisdom teeth ripped out...at least then I got take Oxycontin.
Anyway, last year (year one of hell), I stayed up until 3 a.m. during finals writing this rap instead of studying. I'm a pretty productive person.
I can't lie, the idea was based on a video I saw on You Tube that also utilized the sweet beats of "This is Why I'm Hot" and was also entitled "This is Why You Suck." It was dedicated to Duke Basketball, however. It's a quality video that I would put on here too if I felt like trying to find it. Duke sucks.
I am not about to create a video of myself doing this rap...this would be an awkward experience for everyone involved. However, I did just find the lyrics in my saved documents while looking for my resume, and I wanted to share them with the 4 people that read this blog! So, you can put on a little show for your family and friends by rapping the lyrics yourself while playing the Mims video, enclosed herein.
Ok, well, here goes.
This is Why You Suck, Law School
Chorus:
This is why you suck
This is why you suck
This is why, this is why, this is why you suck.
You make my life hell, and that's why you suck.
This is why, this is why, this why you suck.
This is why you suck.
I don’t got a chance.
I can get a C doing everything I can.
I’ve never felt so dumb.
I think I’m gonna crack.
And I think that I’ve lost it
I’ll never get it back.
I try to get property,
The RAP is whack.
My head it starts to bounce.
As soon as I do the math.
But in the Civ Pro
Geyh loves to take it slow.
But even when I read,
I don’t know what I do not know.
And if you need to study
There’s no time anyway
From torts to Con Law
We have it ereyday.
He called on me just now
It takes my breath away
I’m in that law hell
I’ll never forget today
And when I wanna die
People they wonder why
They ask me aren’t you smart they tell me I’m fine
They ask me why I think I won’t survive.
They ask me why I do it and simply I reply
This is why you suck.
People here are nuts.
Every other one
Another bitch, another putz.
16 tools, 24 dorks.
44 jerks, IU gimme what you got.
I’m tryin to think I’m smart
And now I know I’m not
And they’ll remind me daily that they know a lot.
If you need advice, you’ll get all they got.
Tell them what you need, you know they even think they’re hot.
I call ma homie Kar, meet me at the bucks.
I hit that place cause the people there don’t suck.
I stay far from the school.
See that place is such a drag.
Find me at different places, where there are not all douchebags.
For those who say they know me, know I’d rather go unseen.
Because I’d never know how to rub noses with the dean.
I know it seems mean, jealous is how I seem
But when I say it sucks, my dear friend, this is what I mean.
This is why you suck.
Don’t think I forgot
Ask me what I paid and I say yeah I paid a lot.
And then I’m taking loans, that I know I should not.
Cause when I graduate, I’ll forget all I was taught.
So hop in my car
I’ll tell you all about
There’s workers here all day, they make the studying so hard.
They hammer all day and take up lot’s of space.
But every time I see em I wish I could take their place.
And why’s it so hard
To try to plug your cord, underneath the desk
And then you hit your head, which makes you hit the kid, sits next to you
So when you come back up the whole row stops and stares
Then we all get bored, the profs get ignored
Little do they know I’m reading message boards
I sent an IM, nobody hit reply.
So I play Bubbles, Cause I got that fire.
Anyway, last year (year one of hell), I stayed up until 3 a.m. during finals writing this rap instead of studying. I'm a pretty productive person.
I can't lie, the idea was based on a video I saw on You Tube that also utilized the sweet beats of "This is Why I'm Hot" and was also entitled "This is Why You Suck." It was dedicated to Duke Basketball, however. It's a quality video that I would put on here too if I felt like trying to find it. Duke sucks.
I am not about to create a video of myself doing this rap...this would be an awkward experience for everyone involved. However, I did just find the lyrics in my saved documents while looking for my resume, and I wanted to share them with the 4 people that read this blog! So, you can put on a little show for your family and friends by rapping the lyrics yourself while playing the Mims video, enclosed herein.
Ok, well, here goes.
This is Why You Suck, Law School
Chorus:
This is why you suck
This is why you suck
This is why, this is why, this is why you suck.
You make my life hell, and that's why you suck.
This is why, this is why, this why you suck.
This is why you suck.
I don’t got a chance.
I can get a C doing everything I can.
I’ve never felt so dumb.
I think I’m gonna crack.
And I think that I’ve lost it
I’ll never get it back.
I try to get property,
The RAP is whack.
My head it starts to bounce.
As soon as I do the math.
But in the Civ Pro
Geyh loves to take it slow.
But even when I read,
I don’t know what I do not know.
And if you need to study
There’s no time anyway
From torts to Con Law
We have it ereyday.
He called on me just now
It takes my breath away
I’m in that law hell
I’ll never forget today
And when I wanna die
People they wonder why
They ask me aren’t you smart they tell me I’m fine
They ask me why I think I won’t survive.
They ask me why I do it and simply I reply
This is why you suck.
People here are nuts.
Every other one
Another bitch, another putz.
16 tools, 24 dorks.
44 jerks, IU gimme what you got.
I’m tryin to think I’m smart
And now I know I’m not
And they’ll remind me daily that they know a lot.
If you need advice, you’ll get all they got.
Tell them what you need, you know they even think they’re hot.
I call ma homie Kar, meet me at the bucks.
I hit that place cause the people there don’t suck.
I stay far from the school.
See that place is such a drag.
Find me at different places, where there are not all douchebags.
For those who say they know me, know I’d rather go unseen.
Because I’d never know how to rub noses with the dean.
I know it seems mean, jealous is how I seem
But when I say it sucks, my dear friend, this is what I mean.
This is why you suck.
Don’t think I forgot
Ask me what I paid and I say yeah I paid a lot.
And then I’m taking loans, that I know I should not.
Cause when I graduate, I’ll forget all I was taught.
So hop in my car
I’ll tell you all about
There’s workers here all day, they make the studying so hard.
They hammer all day and take up lot’s of space.
But every time I see em I wish I could take their place.
And why’s it so hard
To try to plug your cord, underneath the desk
And then you hit your head, which makes you hit the kid, sits next to you
So when you come back up the whole row stops and stares
Then we all get bored, the profs get ignored
Little do they know I’m reading message boards
I sent an IM, nobody hit reply.
So I play Bubbles, Cause I got that fire.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
IU Undergrads
I know, I was once an undergrad...I qualified the title with "IU" so I wouldn't have to deal with my inner voice calling me a hypocrite. Plus, I was cool as an undergrad. Still am, in fact. So, whatever, inner voice, why don't you just SHUT THE HELL UP. Anyway, IU Undergrads are more obnoxious than Weird Al Yankovic (who is, of course, trumped by Ty Pennington). Here's why:
1. Cell phone conversations on the bus: It's annoying enough that they're the kinds of tools that have no problem speaking at full volume on a bus. But the conversations they have are the kinds of conversations that make you want to stick pencils into your eardrums. Similar to ones involving your parents and any manifestation of the word sex.
First, they talk about how totally wasted they were the night/day/weekend before. The girls are excited about it: "Oh my gah, I was sooo drunk, I don't even remember getting naked or arrested! HAHAHAHAHA!" The guys try to play it off like they don't think they're cool, while making sure everybody knows they are, in fact, badass because they finished off, like, a whole bottle of Captain Morgan: "Bro, you don't even know, dude, I can't believe I didn't puke, but I did like 4 keg stands...bro." Then, they talk about the hookups they had as a result of aforementioned drunkeness. First of all, this is disgusting. No one wants to know about this, not even the guy who woke up to find your chubby ass in his bed. Second, it's not impressive. Maybe they've never heard of beer goggles, but since these interesting pieces of eyewear allow nearly anybody to "get some action," the fact that these obnoxious people did does not speak to their looks, skills, or personality. All of which are, as a general rule, lacking.
2. Fashion: If you want to dress like an IU undergrad, you must heed the unspoken rules.
-Girls-
First, find the tightest leggings you possibly can. If you're a size ten, buy a size four. If you're a size four, shop in the kid's section. There are several reasons for this size regulation. One, you definitely want to create as much back fat as you can because everyone loves to see rolls. Two, and this is really important, you must have, at all times, a camel toe. It might seem vulgar and inappropriate, but if you want to fit in, people have to feel like they're sexually harassing you just by accidentally glancing at your lower body.
Second, wear any top you see fit, but just ensure that it adequately shows off your back fat and camel toe. Sweaters are a good idea, but you can wear a North Face jacket too, as long as it's short enough.
Finally, spend 20-30 minutes putting your hair up in a messy side-pony that looks like it actually took 1 minute to do. The messier, the better, but put care into the placement of each individual hair, because you don't actually want to have bed-head, duh.
-Guys-
Easy. At all times, especially in class, wear either your pajams or those striped IU warm-up pants. Whereas the girls just try to look like they don't care about their apperance, the guys actually don't give a shit. This is due, of course, to the above-referenced beer googles, which will allow girls to swoon over them regardless of their looks. And by swoon, I do mean pass out.
Ok, I think I've bitched enough about IU undergrads. They're annoying and Kelvin Sampson is a CHEATER!
1. Cell phone conversations on the bus: It's annoying enough that they're the kinds of tools that have no problem speaking at full volume on a bus. But the conversations they have are the kinds of conversations that make you want to stick pencils into your eardrums. Similar to ones involving your parents and any manifestation of the word sex.
First, they talk about how totally wasted they were the night/day/weekend before. The girls are excited about it: "Oh my gah, I was sooo drunk, I don't even remember getting naked or arrested! HAHAHAHAHA!" The guys try to play it off like they don't think they're cool, while making sure everybody knows they are, in fact, badass because they finished off, like, a whole bottle of Captain Morgan: "Bro, you don't even know, dude, I can't believe I didn't puke, but I did like 4 keg stands...bro." Then, they talk about the hookups they had as a result of aforementioned drunkeness. First of all, this is disgusting. No one wants to know about this, not even the guy who woke up to find your chubby ass in his bed. Second, it's not impressive. Maybe they've never heard of beer goggles, but since these interesting pieces of eyewear allow nearly anybody to "get some action," the fact that these obnoxious people did does not speak to their looks, skills, or personality. All of which are, as a general rule, lacking.
2. Fashion: If you want to dress like an IU undergrad, you must heed the unspoken rules.
-Girls-
First, find the tightest leggings you possibly can. If you're a size ten, buy a size four. If you're a size four, shop in the kid's section. There are several reasons for this size regulation. One, you definitely want to create as much back fat as you can because everyone loves to see rolls. Two, and this is really important, you must have, at all times, a camel toe. It might seem vulgar and inappropriate, but if you want to fit in, people have to feel like they're sexually harassing you just by accidentally glancing at your lower body.
Second, wear any top you see fit, but just ensure that it adequately shows off your back fat and camel toe. Sweaters are a good idea, but you can wear a North Face jacket too, as long as it's short enough.
Finally, spend 20-30 minutes putting your hair up in a messy side-pony that looks like it actually took 1 minute to do. The messier, the better, but put care into the placement of each individual hair, because you don't actually want to have bed-head, duh.
-Guys-
Easy. At all times, especially in class, wear either your pajams or those striped IU warm-up pants. Whereas the girls just try to look like they don't care about their apperance, the guys actually don't give a shit. This is due, of course, to the above-referenced beer googles, which will allow girls to swoon over them regardless of their looks. And by swoon, I do mean pass out.
Ok, I think I've bitched enough about IU undergrads. They're annoying and Kelvin Sampson is a CHEATER!
Louisville Cards Fans (the "L Raisers")
I'm a girl and I don't keep up with sports that much, at least in comparison to my psychotic boyfriend. However, I hate Louisville fans. I could go on and on about why, but I feel like this video will provide a succinct and obvious explanation.
Prediction: This kid will shoot up a school within the next 2-4 years. I'm not being callous, just realistic.
Prediction: This kid will shoot up a school within the next 2-4 years. I'm not being callous, just realistic.
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