Monday, September 01, 2003

During this glorious past seven days...

...I succumed to the fact that for yet another year Sex on Tuesday will be anticlimactic and that the author will be too preoccupied with her own self-supposed rebellion to offer useful advice. (P.S., Andrea. If you asked to get written about in the Squelch, it's a guarantee that we'll never mention you.)

...I had to choose between paying my rent and buying more than three text books. I chose paying rent. Luckilly, the good people at Direct Loans sent me a check this morning. This afternoon I celebrated at Curcuit City and replaced my broken CD player and speakers with some new low-quality merchandise. And oh yeah, I'll buy the rest of my text books tomorrow.

...I was very pleased with the number of students, primarily freshman, who showed up to the year's first Squelch meeting. Per usual, fewer than a fifth of our newbies were female. The lack of vaginas in humor is epidemic, and I would be proud if my magazine could help remedy this problem in some small way. Meetings are on Wednesday nights at 7:00 in 109 Wheeler. Bring some chicks.

...I helped my friends start brewing their first (and second) batch of homemade beer. Very yeasty indeed.

...I attended the second half of Cal's handy victory over Mississippi in the game of American Football. Good show, lads. The Cal band continued to be blah, though I did enjoy their Ben Folds medly at half-time. Next round, however, I'd suggest not playing "Brick." Football and abortion ballads don't mix well.

...I had a splendid time watching my inebriated classmates stalk Piedmont on Game Day. Friends don't let friends make asses of themselves drunk.

...I learned the true meaning of Christmas with a little help from my mentally handicapped African American friend from the Deep South and his hard-as-nails football coach with a heart of gold. Radio!


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