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

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