Classic Ryan Blog 3
Originally posted in Aug, 2006. God I can’t even remember the smalls bits of college my diminished brain cells could hold on to anymore.
I don’t know why I thought of this, but just go with it. No one makes you read this.
I couldn’t sleep last night and somewhere in between wondering which former star of “Friends” has the smallest bank account right now (it’s got to be David Schwimmer, right?) and waking up sweating because apparently I had my first night terror since I was 6, I came up with the following thoughts.
For anyone who is still in college, or about to enter college, I have realized that a few things will inevitably happen. In the spirit of title IX, I will break it down for both genders.
First of all, you will hook-up with someone that is, shall we say, less than desireable. For you ladies, this will probably be some dude that hangs out at alternative bars and cringes every time he sees fraternity letters. He’ll drive you home in a beat-up Ford Bronco that is blasting DMB the whole way back to his “sweet” townhouse that he shares with his fellow phishheads. After the third or fourth play of “Crash” he will begin to tell you about how Dave Matthews is the greatest musician of our generation. You and I both know that the voices of great musicians do not sound like someone sodomizing a hippo with dengue fever. Nevertheless, it will work, you will wake up the next day, he’ll want to cuddle, he will ask for your number, he’ll say something about catching this “awesome dude that plays acoustic guitar at the Union.”, you’ll never answer his call, and that will be that.
Fellas, your hook-up will inevitably happen while you’re taking a grenade for one of your buddies. She’s also known as “the friend of the hot chick.” Your buddy will spend the whole night convincing himself that because some chick named Britney accidently brushed her boob against him on the way to the bathroom, that she “totally wants him.” He’ll try talking her up the whole night while you entertain her friend. Guess what? Only one of you is hooking up tonight and it’s probably going to be you, because you had 13 red bull and vodkas in the hope of numbing yourself to the pain of the situation. Like the DMB fan earlier, this chick will also like to talk sentimentally about music. Except she’ll be explaining how she feels that John Mayer wrote “Your body is a Wonderland” just for her. Just wait until you wake up and you realize that the wonderland she speaks of is a lot closer to Bavaria during Oktoberfest; full of fatty sausages and heavy beer. You’ll conveniently forget to ask for her number. You’ll only run into her at 1:00 am when you’re shitfaced, you’ll ignore her, she call you an asshole, you’ll never talk again, and that will be that.
At sometime during college, you will obtain a nickname. And it probably won’t be the one you wanted. (Kind of like the Seinfeld when George wants to be called T-bone) No one will actually believe that your nickname on the high school forensics team was “Captain Awesome.” It will inevitably lead to a nickname along the lines of “Captain Doesn’t Shower” or “Captain Cries During ‘Gilmore Girls’” Just let it happen.
Finally, at some point everybody falls asleep in class and accidentally lets out a fart. Your first instict will be to blame it on the heavy guy in the Pac Man shirt and Levi’s jean shorts. Don’t. He doesn’t need more reasons to stay at home on Saturday night playing World of Warcraft and downloading Babylon 5 episodes. Laugh it off, hope it’s not during a test, and take credit when credit is due.
