My First Frat Party

You know what guys? There is a significant difference between guys and girls. OK, there are several. And I imagine there are some even I don't know about yet. But here's one of them. Guys flirt because they like to be around a girl they find attractive. Girls flirt to send signals. Guys have no idea what those signals mean. Girls think guys are stupid. Guys are stupid. Girls are right. So knowing all this, wouldn't it just be easier if girls said what they meant? They really have no excuse for being pissed that guys aren't getting the point when they know we're stupid. Kids are stupid too. I don't try to reason with them. "Don't eat that pork, Jimmy. It's too red and probably raw, and it might give you a bad case of salmonella." Instead, I stoop to their level and just take it from them. I've learned that "Because I said so" is a valid argument. I'm usually nice about it and give them back at least one of their cupcakes.

Well, I didn't exactly bring that topic up for no reason, but that's not what I came here to talk about. For the first time ever this weekend, I went to a frat party. First of all, I really had nothing else to do, and second of all, I always wanted to see what one was like. Every party I ever went to in the apartments at college looked like the scene in the driver's ed video right before the crash. Well, this one was a bit more fun. I had spent two hours playing volleyball with a few guys, and when we were too tired to play, he invited me to go to this frat party. I went, and lo and behold, they had a volleyball net set up. Well, I can get along in any sort of social situation, provided volleyball is there as a catalyst. So I played for another 4 hours. It was kinda cool actually. The people there were all pretty nice. Even the guys standing in the little inflatable pool drinking with an inflatable penguin. And they want you to drink at frat parties. I went up to the host as I was leaving to thank him for letting me play volleyball at his house and he said something to the effect of "well, I'll thank you if you have a beer." So, all in all, it was a pretty cool time. Of course, if I didn't play volleyball, I don't know what I would have done. I guess I could have stood around and tried awkwardly to fit into a conversation with people I didn't know, but I just don't have the taste buds to get drunk. I no longer think it's such a moral conviction, I just hate the taste of the stuff. All beer tastes like ass. Don't let anybody tell you that one tastes like honey, because you'll drink it only to find out it tastes like ass honey. At any rate, I was standing on the volleyball court waiting for the next game to start, and this guy they called "Spanky" who was wearing a bra all night, came around in a rather drunk manor looking around and cursing to himself "Where the hell is it!?!" Being the good guest, I thought I'd try to help...

Quote Of the Day 6/20/98

Me: "What are you looking for?"
Frat Guy: "The fucking penguin!"

The funny thing was that he said it in a tone of voice like I was an idiot for not knowing he was looking for the penguin. And he was really distressed about the penguin's current unknown whereabouts. Only at a frat party...


Love, inflatable penguins, and bad flirting habits,
Dustin.


Still Standing Right Here...

Professional Car School Advice

You know, I've finally figured out the secret to my car. It makes a lot of unnatural noises when you try to do certain things in it. Like accelerate. Well, the key to a smooth ride in my car, is to block out those sounds. I've found that turning the music up really loud helps a lot. And I've noticed that if you don't look at the driver's side mirror ever, you can hardly notice that it's falling off. I'm trying to apply this skill to other areas in my life as well. I once read an article that said that taking an aspirin daily with a shot of bourbon reduces a person's awareness of heart attacks. I wonder if this principle also works with dirty laundry. And student loans.

Well, thankfully, one of my best friends happens to be a Car major at GMI Institute (which in its written out form, is General Motor's Institute Institute). So I tell him all the problems I'm having with the car and he says some words I don't understand and I nod my head and go "ooooh, ok," and then we play tennis. Well, he was in the car and asked me if that light was always on. Apparently, there's this light on the car that says "Check Engine" that is just always on (I hope). I told him that it was always on, because I think it might be true, but mostly just because I didn't want him to panic. I asked him if he knew what that meant or how to fix it...


Quote Of the Day 6/18/98

Joe: Oh, yeah. You want to know what would fix that?
Me: Yeah, what?
Joe: A piece of electric tape (as in to cover the little light).


He goes away to Car School to tell me that. His mother must be proud.


Testing the boundaries of child abuse,
Mr. Whistlehead.


Still Standing Right Here...