Duffman... says a lotta things!

Best Halloween costume I've ever dressed up in. And I made it all by myself.

Body Shots VIII

Well, another team ritual has come and gone. And with it, some very interesting (to say the least) experiences.

1) The party was, of course, the infamous Body Shots. If you don't know what a body shot is, you better axe somebody. Anyhow, as a tradition, every year the women's team chooses one of the guys on the team to be the "team shot." All the women get to do a shot off of that particular individual ("shot" consisting of licking, applying salt, licking again, taking a shot of tequila, and taking a lime slice from the individual's mouth).

Well... that individual, my friends, was none other than this guy (::points to self::). Ironic indeed.

2) Immediately following that, given that I had my shirt off so they could apply salt, a certain red-haired member of the women's team proceeded to write "SLUT!" just below my neck, and "I AM SLEEPING WITH YOUR SISTER" in huge letters just below that. Soap and water alone are powerless to remove this bodily vandalism.

3) I took three showers tonight. Only two of them were with water though. The third was a shower of glass shards. All over my head and back. Why? Because a certain 6'5" non-roommate best friend of mine decided it would be a good idea to smash in his own living room window from outside in the alleyway. Not only that, but to do so while I was standing directly behind it. Needless to say the first words to come to mind were, (thanks Dave Campos of IU for giving me such applicable words) "Are you fucking stupid?!" Only one small piece of glass was embedded in my arm.

I originally thought that someone had thrown a bottle or shot glass at me. I was ready to kick ass - way past fight-or-flee reflex and on to pummel reflex.

4) But on a lighter note, I basically devoted my entire night prior to that to throwing used lime slices at people. No regrets there, cause it was amazing. Leaping over the bar to smear limes in Jack's face was pretty fun. Ethan provided the funniest moment of the night, when he chucked a fistful of lime rinds at us from the side, while emitting a hilarious war screech. In the words of Jack, it went down like this:

-Hey, Jack...
-What??
...Limes to the face

Good work, Thomas Jefferson. You fucking wrote that shit, man.

5) Meatbites. I was bitten earlier in the night by said red-haired member of the women's team. Such is life, I mean, that happens all the time. Last year we all gang-bit her as payback for the numerous bitings over the course of last year. But anyhow, I didn't really think I'd get bitten again. But then, I was on Meatduty. That is to say, escorting Meatwad home from the party to his dorm. In the words of Premie, "a drunk Wad cannot be tamed, rather its damage can just be slightly contained." Contained, of course, means getting bitten on not one but both triceps, and preventing him from passing out behind a jersey barrier on K Street. Victims in the path of Hurricane Wadma include a GW garbage can (full of garbage), several orange warning barrels, the palm shrubs outside of the Plaza Hotel (I think) and a "sidewalk closed" sign.

Although marred by one hospitalization, all in all, even for a stone-cold sober individual like myself, it was a good night. Particularly getting most of it on tape and pegging Walsh with limes for most of the night. Pwned.

You'd think these things would be obvious

The universi-tards are angry this week, my friends. The first of the Health and Safety inspections have been conducted around campus looking for dangerous things like "unapproved bed structures," "excessive amount of bottles/cans," and "improper food storage." You can really get around getting cited pretty easily - I mean, if you have something blatantly illegal in your room, like fireworks, crack rock, or a sword or something, all you need to do is hide it to avoid getting a violation.

They're also citing people for fire hazards. So basically, if you don't have a kitchen, you can't have a toaster, or a George Foreman grill, or anything that gets hot. Furthermore, if they seeany of that in a kitchen-less room, they will confiscate it and donate it to charity immediately. This is what's pissing people off, because things like halogen lamps are being taken out of rooms by the inspectors and loaded up on the donation truck. Needless to say, over the past couple of weeks, I've gotten plenty of angry calls from not only students but their dumbass parents who are irate over this supposed invasion of privacy.

You signed over your right to privacy when you agreed to live in the dorm. Simple as that. If you can't fucking read or didn't bother to read the rules and regs, it's your fault that your shit got taken. Every time one of these idiots calls our office, before I transfer them to the Risk Management office, I really just want to bitch them out for being a fucktard. (Note: even though the form says to call CLLC, call fucking Risk Management - it's their problem, we're just going to transfer you there anyhow. They misprinted the sheet, in true GW fashion) There have been posters all over the place and numerous emails about the inspections for weeks now. Not only that, but when you move in, your CF (the GW-ed version of the RA) tells you what you can and can't have around.

You may live here, but your room is not your property. The university owns the dorm, and lets you live there for an exorbitant fee. Therefore, you're obliged to live by their rules. And if that means no George Foreman grills, then you can't have a George Foreman grill. I feel like that's the biggest misconception that stupid GW daddy's-girls and mamma's-boys make. IT'S NOT YOUR ROOM, IT'S THE UNIVERSITY'S ROOM.

It's just like people with room switches. "Oh, my friend's roommate just got bird flu and left school for the semester, so I demand to move in with her." And then the friend. "I reeeaally want my friend to move in with me. It would suck to have to live with a total stranger." Too freaking bad, you have no say in who moves into your room under such circumstances. The university has an obligation to fulfill the requests of other students who actually have reasons they have to move. Cases in point: a devout Muslim living in Thurston needs to change because her lifestyle is incompatible with the Thurston Experience and needs to change, someone living on Mount Vernon gets a serious leg injury and has to move onto the Foggy Bottom Campus so she doesn't have to do a ton of walking, the person's roommate is a psychotic monkey who takes shits in their bed, etc. Those are all more pressing then "I want to live with my friend." So stick a pencil in your ear before you call me and ask for something that's ridiculous and impossible.

Back to Health and Safeties for a second, we did get one thing noted on this sheet... "excessive bottles/cans." What? We filled our bin, and then put the overflow into a smaller trash can. What the fuck do they want from us? Furthermore, as one of my friends pointed out, why didn't they take those and donate them to the frigging homeless...?

Past, present, and future (totally unrelated)

Firstly, who wants to see what I wore to my senior prom?
I be pimpin'
That's the past element of this post.

Present. Hm, well today I was practicing down on the Reflecting Pool fields. There were mucho tourista because of the Colombus Day weekend. Fuck you GW, I want to honor the memory and historical importance of Christopher Colombus, but instead I get to go to class and deal with universi-tards at work. Anyhow, so I was running in a drill and I had just caught a deep throw. Some tourists started cheering for me, so I spiked the disc for them. This one Marine-ish looking guy, about my age, said something like "Wow, you guys take this pretty seriously, huh?" So I rattled off some things about the team like "We play for George Washington, we went to Nationals," blah blah, and someone else in the crowd says (just loud enough for me to hear), "Wow, look at his calves."

Future. Ah, my bleak future. It looks like I'll be double majoring now. I got a letter from my academic advisor the other day, and if I played my cards right, I could graduate in the spring. That's really messed up. I don't want to leave GW. The real world scares the shit out of me. I suppose I could do grad school - but why pay for it when I could totally have the government pay for it once I get an intelligence job? Seriously, no one should have to pay to get their master's. If you can get a good job, your employer will pay for it down the road sometime.

Furthermore, I'd never leave the team before serving out my four years. The grad school option is somewhat intriguing I guess, if I could get into GW grad school, but that's not assured, and I don't want to be sitting there holding my johnson in the fall, having been rejected from GW grad school and having finished my undergrad. Then I'd be "out there," and mad as hell that I wasn't playing ultimate with my boys anymore.

We're under attack!

So I'm standing in the kitchen with my computer blaring that "Singin' in the Rain" remake by Mint Royale (from that commercial everyone saw on the various internet sites). All of a sudden I hear some gigantic booms. At first I thought it was a garbage truck shaking out a dumpster or something, but then I remembered it was a Saturday night. I knew DC employees were lazy, but I figured it was highly unlikely they'd be making up for lost time on a Saturday night.

I got to the window just in time to see a flash and hear another loud BOOM! This could be bad, I thought to myself. Just what this city needs, another terrorist attack. So I opened the window to see if any sirens began howling. Nothing. Weird. I checked the TV and internet news, still nothing. My roommate's phone rings, and the message machine picks up. I faintly here the words "explosion" and "Roosevelt bridge."

"Hoooooooooly fucking Moses," I think to myself. So I call my other roommate who I thought was the one who left the message. He explained to me that it was some sort of fireworks they were launching from the Roosevelt Bridge. He made the comment initially and I agree: why the fuck would they be lighting off fireworks in the middle of goddamn downtown DC, a city that is still infused with a deep fear of terrorist attack, without at least giving some notice! Sucks to be the 911 operator on duty tonight...