This "kick-off" night was a huge relief especially to me because at about 6:45 PM I received a call from Matt Spuler being like "Rob, listen, bro, we totally gotta kick-in this year, you know like jump start it with a huge dent in the door... I mean dent in the night...do you catch my drift man?" This, combined with the intimidating pressure of Ari's incessant naggering* to host a pre-game, drove me to an anxiety filled two hours of getting dressed that required at least 45 minutes of flexing in the mirror and making Zoolander-esque faces** before I felt ready to confront the world, or at least the 20 freshman downstairs.
Yes, we had the pleasure of hosting a number of newly arrived freshman, or those in one's days of salad, if you will. The attendants read like that from the roster of faithful Sunday viewers of that piece of shit some people dare call a show, Entourage. (I just realized we're beginning to shit on this show a little too much, but if you honestly enjoy it you may also enjoy sticking your hand in a live blender.) For the males: with their signature graphic tee's and artistic renditions of dog-chains, the uniformity of this group reminded me of a pack of sheep being lead to the slaughter. I'm glad to see that UM is attracting bright and original thinkers unafraid to deviate from the status quo. For the females: Not altogether that bad, although one had the audacity to inquire if we could play the new Black Eyed Peas album and another group of three walked aimlessly around carrying about them the kind of amicability one would expect from patrons at a theater of porn films.
A message to whoever drank all my vodka.
*Disclaimer: this is a recycled joke, yet a wholly original thought that is attributable to yours truly.
**Addendum: At least I work out my anxiety without pacing back in forth with my hand down my pants, playing with my Charlie Browns like SOME people in this household.
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