I must own this book and pass on its wisdom to the boy. Here are some of my favorites maxims with comments directed at my infant son as if he were an adult with the ability to reason:

• Surround Yourself With Smart People. You are who you hang out with. Your friends will expect you to do what they are doing alongside them. Smart people expect you to be intelligent and well read. Drug addicts expect you to pass the Guns N' Roses coke mirror you won at the carnival balloon-dart game after snorting a line.
• It Is Not A Gang Without The Cool Girl. Be sure to always have at least one cool girl in your inner-circle of friends (bonus if she is hot). She can provide invaluable feminine perspective and is bound to bring around other cool girls. You may even marry her someday.
  
• Ask Your Mother To Dance. There is no better way to make your mother's night then taking her for a spin around the dance floor and acting like it is fun and not a chore. You will do this and you will like it.
  
• Do Not Get All Fancy About Your Beer Or Coffee. Coffee? Black. Beer? Yes, please. It is as simple as that.
  
• Do Not Have A Girlfriend In College. Think of all the awesome shenanigans you can get into while attending college. Now think about doing them while maintaining a steady relationship with an average looking girl that you met in the first week of your freshman year.
• Never Sit Down On A Ball Field. Take A Knee. You do not sit down on a sports field unless you are severed at the torso and have no legs. Even then, you still take a stump.
• Always Meet Your Date At The Door. Do not be the dickhead honking the horn in the driveway. Go up to the door and ring the bell. Doing this affords you the opportunity to open the car door for her as well. Double the points, my son.
  
• Yes Ma'am. No Sir. No Exceptions. People that are older than you are always sir or ma'am. Even if your friends parents tell you to call them by name you still call them sir or ma'am.
  
• Try To Lose The Adverbs. Nothing illustrates how weak your vocabulary is more than an adverb. You are not very tired. You are exhausted. You are not extremely happy. You are ecstatic.
• Keep Your Word. Even the over-consumption of liquor does not excuse you from this one. If you tell someone you will do something, you do it.
• If You Are Good At Something, Never Do It For Free. Excluding sex, masturbating and murder.
• Walk It Off. This philosophy that can be applied to many situations including electrocution, being on fire and venereal diseases.
• Never Be Afraid To Ask Out The Best Looking Girl In The Room. Be fearless. What is the worst that can happen? She says no and you call her a lesbian? You are still in the same position you were in when you walked into the room.
• You Do Not Get To Choose Your Own Nickname. You are luckier than most as you have a sweet last name that can be shortened to "Broz" or "Brozo." Even so, you do not ask anyone to call you this. They must do it of their own accord.
  

Labels: books, coffee, college, drinking, liquor, sports, the boy, wife

• I cannot wait to have another baby only to see my kids do this to each other.
• "Yes, Jimmy. There is such thing as the freshman fifteen."
• Ed McMahon is sleeping with Jesus. Ed was most famous for being the Lancelot to Johnny Carson's King Arthur, hosting Star Search and giving old ladies heart attacks via Publisher's Clearinghouse. I was unaware that Ed was a retired Colonel and accomplished pilot in WWII and Korea.

Labels: babies, college, death, gluttony, link goodness, pop culture, tomfoolery

Buck Fifty has fast become my favorite site for Denver and Colorado history. Today's installment: The Ku Klux Klan in Colorado. In the 1920s; the Klan boasted nationwide membership in the millions and was not the backwoods, hillbilly joke that it is today. Regis University (my collegiate Alma mater) has a stone wall on the southwestern edge of campus declared a historical landmark (or so I was told) where students of the 1920s and 1930s fought off the Silent Empire on numerous occasions. In my day, said stone wall was used by students to park the pricey SUVs their parents bought them next to or to smoke cigarettes against on a warm autumn day. I was also unaware that the old Denver airport (Stapleton) bore the name of noted klansmen Ben Stapleton.

Labels: college, colorado, denver, hate, history

If I could go back to college with the skills I acquired over my professional career, I would be making quality fake IDs and charging desperate underage drinkers $200 a smash for them (I would also be convincing more women to pose nude for me and explain that it was all for artistic purposes). In the mid to late 90s the internet was not as magical as it is today. You couldn't just buy a fake ID with your parent's credit card and have it over-nighted to you in time for weekend tavern revelries. No. Instead you had to pay some asshole stranger that smelled of cigarettes and claimed she was a born again Christian $40 to alter the dates on a good ID with improper fonts and colors and wait two months for it.

Labels: college, crime, tomfoolery

On 4/20 at 4:20, students with an affinity for weed at CU Boulder decided to have a smoke out at Farrand Field. While they were taking pulls of hippy lettuce and barking at the moon, video surveillance caught them doing what they do best. My comments:

• It is called shampoo and a hairbrush, cheeba monkey. Give them both a try.
• College usually takes seven years when you are majoring in law, medicine or burning out.
• C Thomas Howell ala Red Dawn enjoys some kind. WOLVERINES!
• A Pearl Street Mall regular.
• Experts claim that marijuana is the gateway drug. In this instance, let us hope it is a gateway to a long and glamorous career in porn.
• Tonight on a very special Doogie Howser: Doogie tries smoking grass.
• Um, yeah.

Labels: boulder, college, drugs, pop culture, porn

It all starts when the Boulder police department is called in to break up a large block party due to rampant underage drinking (a party in which the City of Boulder gave permits for). Party-goers become angry because their Constitutional right to free assembly has been violated. This is not the moment to think rationally. The time is nigh for angry mob justice. Tip over a car and light it on fire. Throw missiles at authority figures and drunken revelers. Get tazed, tear gassed and shot with rubber bullets. The next day, after being bailed out of jail by your parents, read a dissertation on the evening news about excessive police brutality.

Labels: boulder, college, colorado, drinking

Lately it seems like a fraternity in Colorado is more like a funeral home (CU and CSU). I think there should be a class in college called Drinking 101 that teaches kids the subtle nuances of alcohol consumption. Here a few topics that should to be on the syllabus:

• When you have lost feeling in your extremities and are blacking out, it is time to put the bottle of schnapps down.
• If you are a young, attractive female you should not drink nor hang out at a frat house. These places are havens for date rape, alcohol poisoning and disease. It would be much cleaner and safer to drink in a construction site port-o-potty with a used dildo.
• Under no circumstances should you participate in any shenanigans with somebody that has passed out; this especially includes placing your testicles on somebody's face and taking a picture. It is called karma and she is a cruel bitch.

Labels: college, colorado, death, drinking

I was required to take the Myers-Briggs Personality Test for an Organizational Management class in college. Upon completion of said test, the results were lost in the vast abyss that was my alcohol soaked brain. Now that my hardcore binge drinking days are behind me and I have gone respectable, I decided to take the test again. Here are the results. Feel free to call me Erwin Rommel, or Wustenfuchs if you prefer.

Labels: college, matt brozovich

During my freshman year of college, you could not go anywhere without hearing the song "Breakfast At Tiffany's" by Deep Blue Something. For those of you lucky enough to never have heard this scourge upon popular music, let me assure you that if faced with a choice of inserting your genitals into a meat grinder or listening to this song until the end of time, you would gladly drop your pants. I first heard this lyrical cluster fuck late one night on a lonely road near Amarillo, Texas. I was sharing driving duties on the way to helping my good friend Julie move into her dorm room at TCU. As Julie lay asleep in the passenger seat, I was fumbling with the radio on a quest for programming that would keep me awake when I came upon "Breakfast At Tiffany's." After listening to one minute of this pussy band wax philosophical about a former relationship where both parties had nothing in common but the enjoyment of a 1961 Audrey Hepburn film, I was on the verge of hurling myself onto the highway in front of an eighteen-wheeler. Here is an insight into why your relationship probably fell apart, Deep Blue Something; while you were busy playing the sensitive card, talking about cotton candy and kittens and watching old chick movies like a middle-age gay man with a personality disorder, your woman was dropping ecstasy at a frat house and getting fucked on a stained couch by a guy who still had his balls intact. I was hoping that would be the only time I would ever hear that song, but unfortunately, for the next year and a half it haunted me everywhere I went. Thankfully, the one-hit wonder that was Deep Blue Something faded back into obscurity and I went on living my college musical life in the zen that was the Wu-Tang Clan. Enter this past Saturday morning. As my lady and I were eating a delicious breakfast at Le Peep, "Breakfast At Tiffany's" comes on over the Muzak. I began to panic and look around for a loaded gun or stabbing implement to kill something.

Labels: college, music, rage, wife

At the zenith of my barhopping years, I made some bad decisions. Decisions like exchanging phone numbers with seemingly attractive females before the harsh lighting of last call came on to reveal that they had eye patches and an Adam's apple. I think the worst decisions I made were purchasing and eating the $2 burritos from the vendors on the street corners of LoDo. The end result was always me passing those intestinal claymores through my whiskey soaked GI tract hours later in a sweaty, hungover heap atop the toilet, questioning the ingredients of said burritos and praying to every deity I could remember from my religious studies class during my sophomore year of college. I never would have guessed those gut bombs had people in them.

On a related burrito note: Taco Bell has just introduced its new shrapnel burrito.

Labels: burritos, college, denver, drinking, hangover

I do not care if any of these bitches got a tattoo last week, have a cold, were pierced recently, use intravenous drugs, are HIV infected or contracted hepatitis from some skeezy frat boy that looked like Dave Matthews. They better LIE! If I screw this blood drive up my dad may cut me off and the convertible Cabrio will go back to the dealership and the weekly stipend that keeps this house full of ecstasy tablets and Midori will stop. We cannot have that. Now where is Mary Sue at? Gamma Phi Beta is going have an old-fashioned bloodletting.

Labels: college, inner-monologue, stupidity

''The first night I was OK with eating at the stadium. But when they told me we were going to eat there again, I was a little disappointed. I was like `Take us to Red Lobster or something.' Instead, it was the same old fried chicken. That's when I pretty much made up my mind. I can't live in a place that don't have any restaurants. What am I going to do, fly home to eat shrimp?''

Willie failed to mention some of the more intimate details of his trip such as committing battery (twice) and being charged with a felony. I imagine Gainesville authorities might have been more lenient with Willie if he had signed with Florida as opposed to the University of Miami.

Labels: college, sports, tomfoolery, willie williams

The Miami Herald has been following All-State high school linebacker Willie Williams on his recruiting trips to various colleges. So far he has visited Florida State, Auburn and Miami (all these links are worth reading. Trust me). Some excerpts:

Willie on spinach dip: "I told them I ain't no animal, and I ain't going to eat no plant. But they kept pushing it toward me. It was disgusting. I told them I'm from Miami. I don't eat that. You farm people are used to it, but not me.''

Willie on Coach Coker's ride: ''Coach Coker looks like an old guy in his 50s or 60s, but he's real cool. When he talks, he sounds like he's 18 or 20. And when I saw he was driving the Escalade, I was like, dang, coach got some taste.''

Willie on his accommodations: "He took me to the hotel. This place was beautiful, nicest place I've ever stayed. It was called The Radisson. I was impressed.''

Willie on his future: ''UM looks like it has a real good business school. After going on these trips and living like King Tut, I think business is something I want to get into.''

Willie on the Bowdens: "Coach Bowden was cool, but Ms. Bowden was the bomb. I swear, she must be related to Betty Crocker or something. When we walked into that house, it was like walking into a Publix Bakery; banana pudding, chocolate cake, cheese cake. I had one of everything. I didn't want to leave.''

Labels: college, sports, tomfoolery, willie williams

I was involved in an uncomfortable situation in the company break room this morning. I was making a vat of cocoa (and when I say vat, I am not fucking around. I swooped up a Brew Keg from 7-11 that holds fifty-five ounces of hot liquid. On a cold bitch of a morning like this, it holds me together like steel) when a fellow employee walks in. I have my back turned to him, so I ask him how his holiday was (being as I had the past two weeks off). We engage in lighthearted banter and I turn to look at him and immediately notice that his eye is swollen shut. Needless to say, I was taken aback. He notices the look of horror on my face and acts as if I offended him and walks away. Well excuse me, Mr.Sensitive but your fucking eye is swollen shut. Should I act like I did not notice? Christ.

Upon further reflection I was then reminded of an even more uncomfortable social situation I experienced. I was out barhopping in lower downtown Denver. I consumed many spirits and was feeling loose but focused. Our group eventually made its way to a dance club, which was peculiar because nobody in our group liked to dance. We waded through a sea of sweaty young people contorting their bodies to shitty house music and bellied up to the bar. After a shot or four, I decided to hit the dance floor and fuck some shit up. Nobody joins me; not even the women in our group. So there I am, drunk, alone and swaying on the dance floor. I feel somebody rubbing on my ass. I glance back and notice an attractive female smiling at me. We proceed to engage in what the kids call "bumping and grinding" for almost an hour nary saying a word to each other. Finally, I become parched and invite the young lady to the bar offering to buy her a drink. She informs me that her and her friends are getting ready to leave but thanks me anyway. I ask her if I can get her number and take her out sometime. She smiles and then reaches in her purse for a pen. She hands it to me and I write her number down on a cocktail napkin. I reach out to shake her other hand (now keep in mind its dark in this club and I am totally obliterated so my powers of observation are skewed) and instead I grab a stump. She did not have a fucking hand. I jump back, completely surprised and utter, "Holy shit! Where is your fucking hand?!" She stares at me for what seems like an eternity and then says, "You are an asshole." Good times.

Labels: college, data slaughterhouse, denver, drinking

Christian Slater has a hot wife who happens to be a tornado of crazy. I have had numerous experiences with juicy psycho girls (thankfully, I completed my tour of the crazy bitch circuit in college) and here are two of the best:

• During my freshman year of college I was dating a girl I will call Skank Bait. Skank Bait and I dated for a few weeks, during which time, she asked me if I would be her date to the autumn formal dance. Not only do I hate formal dances, I hated most of the kids I went to college with (they were children of privilege who looked down upon crusty, blue collar kids like me who took advantage of the free tuition benefit given to children of the university's employees). I had yet to have familiar relations with Skank Bait, so I assumed my attendance at this event would be the deal closer. Skank Bait invited a male friend of hers from Colorado State to be a date for her roommate. Skank Bait failed to inform me and her roommate that she was currently involved in a serious relationship with said male friend from Colorado State. Only the voices in her head and her psychiatrist know why she invited us both to the formal (my guess is it was an inability to trust brought on by emotionally abusive parents which caused her hurt people before they hurt her, but I digress). Skank Bait's roommate and I quickly sized up the affair, so we got drunk at the bar and ignored Skank Bait and her male friend from Colorado State most of the evening. Skank Bait's roommate and I decided to leave. Skank Bait sees us getting on the elevator, runs over to me, grabs my wrist and starts raising her voice and making a scene in the lobby of the hotel. I remove her filthy meat hook from my forearm and she screams, "Don't you ever fucking touch me!" At this point, male friend from Colorado State enters the fray getting in my face and saying, "Get your hands off of my girlfriend!" He proceeds to put up his dukes in preparation for fisticuffs. I laugh at him as the elevator doors close. The highlight of the evening comes on the walk back to the car as Skank Bait's roommate and I smoke cigarettes with a pack of drag queens on the 16th Street Mall that tell me I look "decent" in a tie. I never talk to Skank Bait again and Skank Bait's roommate gets a single dorm room shortly thereafter.
• During my senior year of college I ran into a girl I will call Dishrag Whore while shopping at the local mall. I had been fond of Dishrag Whore's fantastic body ever since I ogled it for an entire semester during a statistics class, so we exchanged numbers and decided to meet for drinks sometime. The next night Dishrag Whore calls me and we met up for beers at a local watering hole. Things end up going extremely well and the night ends with us hitting skins in a sweaty heap of meaningless joy atop her bed. Post-coitus, Dishrag Whore breaks down and cries for reasons known only to the voices in her head and her psychiatrist (my guess is our sexual encounter triggered a latent memory buried deep within her subconscious regarding sexual abuse at the hands of a friend or family member, but I digress). I never see Dishrag Whore again, but for the next two months, she calls me to discuss the following topics:
• Why she liked to drink a pint of vodka over the course of a day.
• If I knew of any good places she could score some blow.
• Why she would have sex with Jesus if he were alive today.
• If I would be interested in a three-way with her and her fat friend.

Labels: 16th street mall, college, colorado, crazy, denver, drinking

I love it when it is nudie magazine day because awaiting in my mailbox will be the newest issue of Playboy. I jump around like a little kid tuned up on pure cane sugar. This month the Girls Of The Big XII appear naked. Not all the Girls Of The Big XII, mind you, just the really hot and slutty ones. A Baylor fraternity house is in trouble for appearing in said issue. From the keep you mouth shut and just take your shirt off category one of the models had this to say about the Christian folk who reprimanded the them: "I'm a Christian myself and I don't believe anyone should impose any beliefs on another person." I think it is safe to say she is not majoring in World History.

Labels: boobs, college, porn