Getting Weird

So it has been almost nine months since I graduated from college and in that time I had made a few observations. One of the first things I noticed after I graduated was that probably nobody in my amorphous group of friends from Marquette will be marrying another member of the group. My parents met each other in college along with a pretty substantial number of the my friends' parents, so naturally I thought it was a bit odd that I can't imagine any two of my friends actually getting married (except for NikaGoogs, since that one is already pretty much locked up). This led me to start to reminisce for a little bit and it began to make much more sense to me. My guy friends will never end up dating and eventually marrying one of my female friends for the exact same reason that I will never be able to run for public office; every girl from college played witness to what they must assume to be my absolute worst, and most of the time it was captured on camera. Personally, I believe that these specific instances that will undoubtedly shame my family into hiding are in fact my moments of greatness, but I won't force you to agree with me on this one.

I was trying to think of a way in which I could frame these scenarios that would do them justice they truly deserve and not make me look like a complete retard, but that might be a bit difficult. To put it simply, sometimes shit got weird.

We did weird shit partly because we are actually weird, but mostly because adding an unconventional and unexpected element to any kind of planned situation just makes things more fun. This morning I was glad to read that the girls a year younger than I are making it a point to get as weird as possible in the months leading up to their graduation (http://can-i-borrow-that.blogspot.com/ ). After a few months out of my college sphere I realized that acting like a chimp on PCP isn't admired in the real world, and it is in fact greatly frowned upon. Rude awakening to say the least. Nine months ago manginas were just gold ol' wholesome fun, but if I tried to get away with doing that now it wouldn't be a laughing matter because I would find myself getting my butt turned into a hat by someone named Lucious in a local Chicago holding pen. None of the girls that saw me or my friends in our truest of forms would ever marry me for the simple reason that they don't want to explain to their future children that she once saw their father naked in his living room with his package tucked between his legs clucking like a chicken. Like I said, sometimes shit just got weird. It wasn't out of the ordinary for things like that to happen with me and my friends, and what made the last few years so funny was that things like that were actually a commonplace. Its not a new fad for college to make silly decisions from time to time like getting high on a Saturday afternoon, driving to the local flea market and buying an exotic pet, but its not normal to watch your room mate hold open another friend's butt cheeks as he spews streams of liquid poop off of your balcony. Its moments like this that will inevitably define the last few years of my life.

Like I said before, the concept of me ever having a successful political campaign is simply out of the question, because there's just way too much evidence out there of shit getting weird. You could probably make an entire scrapbook of mangina pictures, or various nude renditions of guitar hero. I guess its not that bad, after all some people go to college and pick up a coke problem or smoke crystal meth out of light bulbs, but having someone (cough cough Bridget Comeau cough cough) rip off your underwear at a party and force you to take a picture of your penis in a hot dog bun isn't the kind of behavior that attracts someone whom society
would consider "wife material".

Since I can almost indubitably rule out any Marquette girl from my matrimonial plans it would seem that I need to find a wife in another arena, but therein lies another problem; how could I possibly convince a woman that never witnessed me act like a giant drunk 5 year old that my antics were just somewhat normal given the situation? Its a rare occasion that a girl hears about a few of us getting weird and thinks "Damn that's hot". I'm going to have to somehow play my weird ass days filled with manginas and urban outdoor pooping as some sort of phase, kinda like how some girls dabble in lesbinaism or have sex with the entire basketball team because they hate their fathers. That kind of phase.

Knowing this, has the last 4 years of getting weird as fuck damned me to point where I will inevitably have to die alone? I imagine myslef old and drunk, thinking that if I had just kept my pants on at a few of those bars instead of running around screaming "Look at me, I'm Ellen DeGeneres" I may have been able to live a happy life beyond 25. As of right now I'm holding out for something better; there has to be a woman out there that will appreciate a good mangina, a pair of testicles hanging from a high cut pair of homemade jorts, or a practical joke involving poop, right? I think there is, and when I meet her I'm going to find out if she has a sister for my friend Paul Coogan.

Stay Black,
SBB