My Alleged Suicide by Alex Finlay

Alright so I'm kind of in love with the show "Say Yes to the Dress". It's kind of the best show ever. These girls come in to a bridal shop and bring their bitchy mothers and sisters and basically just bitch at the poor bridal consultants for 30 minutes. Actually, most of them are really nice, but some of the mothers are FUCKING HEINOUS BITCHES.
Anyway, so the show inspired me to think about my wedding. I decided that I do not want my mother help me pick my dress. She always thinks I look fat in everything and need to cover my boobs more and I'm all like "HEY MOM guess what? You're daughter's fat so maybe that's why she looks fat in everything. And your boobs would be everywhere too if you had DDD's! So shut up!" Then she'd totally freak the fuck out and start crying like she did when she moved me into the dorms my freshman year because I told her not to embarrass me in front of all my future friends. That was like the worst thing ever. Oh my God. Why do children so such evil things to their parents? Or worse, why do parents have to cry? Fuck that. That's like a torture device for me. I saw my dad cry once and I nearly shit my pants. WTF.

Oh my, that was definitely not where I was going with this one. What I'm trying to say is that I don't trust anyone to tell me if I look good except for God, myself, Stacy London, and Clinton Kelly. That's about it. I really need friends with a sense of fashion, but (and I know this is really sad because I dress like a fucking freak) I am the most fashionable person I know that isn't my sister, who would basically take over the whole dress appointment and tell me to go home because fat girls can't get married. I hate my life.

Anyway, I'm never getting married and I hate everyone. Love, Alex Finlay

African American, 25 year-old, Drug Dealer and Pimp Stepdad

So, about two years ago now, my mom and brother decide to do a “mother – son” trip. After looking over their options, they decided upon Africa, more specifically: The Gambias. It was a planned 8 day trip of sun and fun. After a couple days of chilling at the beach, my brother is approached by this one guy asking if he wants to buy some sex from his sisters. My brother being the smart 16 year-old boy that he was, wisely declined. Then, the man asked him “what about ganja?”. My brother slightly more tempted by this offer declined to buy some of this African sensimilla. However, they did end up smoking together. My mom had no idea what my brother did for the next two days as he always left for a while to hang out with his new buddy. Well, after a couple days my mom met this guy, who is about 25 (or so they think- there are no birth records, and that knowledge didn’t seem relevant). My mom is a 49 year-old white lady. Well it turns out that when they met, they really hit it off. Well they only had 4 more days to hang out before my mom and brother went back to Sweden where they live. So, the night before my mom leaves, they get engaged. For the next year they are talking on the phone and sending email letters to each other, trying to figure out how to get him to Sweden. Well towards the end of the first year, they finally figure out a way. After a month of being in Sweden, they get married. And that is how I ended up with an African American, 25 year-old, drug dealer and pimp stepdad!

/Michael Platten

Drunk Texting/ Steve Jobs [Paul Herzog]

Texting is fun, isn’t it? I’m a big drunk texter. Love it. What I really need is like, a rosetta stone that can translate my drunk texts before I send em out. That would super fucking duper. Because I’ll be talking to the girl next day and she’ll be like, “Yeah, uhh, you sent me a text at 3:30 am saying ‘I’m gonna dragon fuck you so hard you’ll cum a fireball.’ You wanna tell me what kind of mid-evil drunken fuckery was going on in your booze head when you sent that?” I’m like, ohh sorry. Looks like I got drunk and watched A Knights tale again.

I always drunk text via iPhone. Aren’t they just a treat?! I feel like when Steve Jobs was a kid he had one of those retardedly overactive imaginations. You remember that kid? Always saying the most ridiculous shit, everyones like “shut up Steve.” He was so that guy. Him and his friends are on the swings at recess, and one of his friends is like, “my dad just spent $200 on a CD player, and now we listen to whatever songs we want. Its so cool”. Then Steve Jobs jumps in like, “Yeah! Well I’m gonna invent a tiny magic rectangle that can have every song ever on it, and its gonna be a phone too, and its a takes pictures. and you can play video games on it, and watch movies, annnd I’m only gonna sell this awesome box for $99.” Steve Jobs you were one retarded little boy. Then the iPhone came out and it turns out his overactive imagination did get the last laugh. Good thing he never got put on Ridelin, or else we would live in a world with no iPod, iPhone, or Mac Book Pro. Thanks retard imagination of Steve Jobs, you’ve made our world that much better.

Mariah

Sean Gereghty
Final Blog

Is it strange that Mariah Carey’s music scares me? Well, it does. Not all of it. I used to like her music very much but then I met a girl named Sierra who made up stories about us living together and liked to tell people we were in a relationship. She also made up a man and made up that he impregnated her and made up that she miscarried because of her made up health problems from her made up cancer which she got several times in several made up places but still managed to get pregnant again and miscarry [made up] that one too. This is relevant to Mariah Carey because one of my old favorites of her, “Always Be My Baby,” is now ruined because I can’t help but picture Sierra rocking back and forth in the fetal position singing “Ooh boy, you know you can’t escape me” quietly to herself. What’s worse is she actually once said “You will always be my baby.” I hadn’t decided I hated her yet because I hadn’t quite realized how much she was ruining most aspects of my life, so I said “Okay” so she would stop crying. In all honesty, I fully intended this blog to be about Mariah Carey. I really like the song “All I Want For Christmas Is You.” I sing it into my hairbrush. But the song “Touch My Body,” aside from my strong personal dislike toward the melody, the line “I will hunt you down” gives me the chills. Sierra might try to hunt me down. She could be doing it right now.

This was supposed to be about Mariah Carey.

ANGRY BLOG!!! by Alex Machock

I’M SO ANGRY!
Why am I so angry? Because my life is horrible, that's why!
NO! I Don’t care what you say about children starving in Africa, or the Holocaust. MY LIFE IS WAY WORSE!
I SWEAR!
You don't believe me? First of all,
I HATE YOU, STOP BEING A DICK!
Secondly, let me tell you about an average day for me, and you'll see why I lead the worst existence imaginable.
First of all, I had class 9:30 AM. But I went to sleep at 3. That adds up to about six hours of sleep! SIX HOURS! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FUNCTION WITH ANYTHING LESS THEN 13 HOURS A DAY? FUCKING HELL, I'M SURE THE PRISONERS IN CONCENTRATION CAMPS NEVER HAD TO DEAL WITH A LACK OF SLEEP THIS BAD!!
But wait guys, it gets worse. No joke.
So I wake up and go pour myself some cereal. But get this, there’s no milk. I’m seriously out of fucking milk! BUT I WANT TO EAT CEREAL!! HOW AM I GONNA EAT IT NOW?! SWEET BEARDED JESUS, GUANTANAMO BAY PRISONERS DON’T EVEN HAVE TO DEAL WITH SHIT THIS BAD! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? POUR MY CAPTAIN CRUNCH BACK INTO THE CEREAL BOX LIKE AN ASSHOLE? NO! THAT’S ABSURD!
So I'm walking to my 9:30 class…without any breakfast mind you.
...oh, and did I mention this is 9:30 in the morning? HOLY SHIT HAS THEIR EVER BEEN AN EARLIER CLASS IN THE HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION?! WHO THE HELL IS UP AT 9:30 AM? NOBODY, THAT'S WHO!!
Anyway I’m walking to class and I see this jerkoff walking in the opposite direction. I try to ignore him but then he recognizes me from class last year. We make eye contact and he goes “what’s up?”
…WHAT’S UP? WHAT’S UP?! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN? CAN’T HE SEE I’M TRYING TO WALK TO CLASS? WHAT KIND OF INCONSIDERATE ASSHOLE WOULD INTERRUPT MY WALKING WITH SUCH TRIVIAL BULLSHIT? I HATE YOU! By the way, nice beanie fucktard. I’m being sarcastic though, because your beanie is not nice at all and actually looks quite foolish on your head. DID I MENTION I HATE YOU?
So I punched the guy in the face and ran off crying.
Seriously, my life is hell.

Nick Edrick Blog 4

When people ask me why I’m a history major, I usually give the stock answer of “I like it.” History interests me because I like to know the deeper reasons behind events. For instance, the Civil War happened because of slaves. And slaves happened because of the Pyramids. And those happened because God said so. We can plainly see that everything happened because God said so, and so I sum up history into one sentence: “Because God (or someone) said so.” Other majors can also be summed up into concise sentences. Economics is “These two lines are a graph. This graph represents change over time. Poor people.” American Studies is “WERE NOT RACIST, WE SWEAR!!!” And biology is “Take this class 4 times till you pass it.” Someday, Ill probably write a book wherein I sum up all knowledge into easy paragraphs. But no one will read it. Have to study for bio.

late night fun

Ever been up late at night and started saying certain words out loud, and some just sound really weird? Try it. Say Beer Can in a jamaican accent. It should sound something like bacon if you try.
Heres another good one. Say "a bummer" in an english/australian accent. i thought it sounded like Obama. how often does a brit say 'a bummer' anyway? fuckin brits. the brits were the first ones to start clear cutting forests. tree huggers probly arent to happy about that are they. well a brit might just say, thats a bummer. ha. get it ~ a bummer~obama. hugh grant can just jump off a bridge.
just think about this. if saints had halos even when they were little kids, imagine how self conscience they were having a big ol ring around their head. at least they didnt have to buy a costume for haloween.
do you ever smoke alot of weed and then get an unnatural appetite for anything? thats ussually when i end up at safeway right before they close and everyone awake decides to shop at safeway and they only have one fucking register open because some drunk guy named jered drops a 40 and the remaining 3 cashiers have to stand around the guy while he tries to lap it up off the ground for another free 40. but it just took a long time and it was really wierd reading the national inquirer as i stood in line for 10 min. i guess obama has a male lover that wants him back and michellle said she was going to crush him. i want to know if that paper can make up money for themselves as well as they make up stories.
eric randolph

Julia Yeager, Blog 4: Funny Feminism

My roommate Katy is a hardcore feminist. In fact, she is so hardcore, that she is teased for it. If anyone tells a misogynist joke in front of her, she gives them shit for it. Now, I’m all for feminism, but I also love a good laugh, so for the most part I’ll laugh off any cruel jokes poked at women, it’s all in fun.

Two days ago, our friend Annie posted a video on her facebook of a rapper named D Lo singing his famous song No Hoe, claiming that it was “practically the theme of the third floor”. Here is the video. You can watch the whole thing if you want, but the first thirty seconds or so should do the job.

So, I immediately knew that Katy would be furious with this song’s lyrics and video, and I knew I had to fuck with her... I was pleasantly surprised when yesterday she plopped on her chair and began her facebook stalking session. Soon enough, she muttered, “Oh…My…Gawd…”

“Whats wrong?” I asked.

“Julia… come watch this, oh my gawd.”

She pushed play. I waited two seconds then exclaimed, “D LO!” as I put the volume up. I then proceeded to shake my ass like there was no fuckin tomorrow. I bent over in front of her and started singing the lyrics, “No hoe, no hoe, no hoe…!!” I got real into it, I was even poppin my ass, just like the dirty hoes in the video! I was so proud of my bad self.

I turned around and slowly stopped dancing as I saw her face. She was completely furious, “JULIA! What the FUCK??! Are you serious?!” I sort of whimpered as I tried to explain, “It’s a.. good, song…?”

I started laughing and said I was messin’ with her and she called me a bitch. She is unable to stop glaring at me every time she sees me… she’ll get over it! :D Hopefully…

A-Raad Blog 4

On another rant, the pretentious. People who think there better than the majority of others. Maybe they got money; maybe they got clothes or own 6 hummers and 37 flat screen televisions. I over heard some couple at an art museum, figures, looking at a painting of a woman of Asian decent. I heard “this is very memoirs of a geisha-esque”. Only thing I can say is fuck you. If you didn’t know, esque is derived from François, which I mean come not only is French, but look at the ‘c’ in François. The French do it to me every time. I went to France once. It was fucking awful. They wouldn’t let us bring food or beverage to our hotel room. In France you drink in clubs or bars and munchies are not allowed. Listen France, I know I don’t speak French, but don’t be an asshole because of this. “You come to our country and expect us to speak your language, we are France fuck your language”. Doesn’t mean you can’t point me to the metro bastard. Too pretentious to help. That’s why you’re not on the coalition of the willing. Actually Afghanistan is on the coalition of the willing. Aren’t we fighting them? It’s all fucked. The world is shit. Capitalism is everywhere. Making the rich just that more pretentious. The mentality is, make hella money eventually own every corporation and than you can take over the world. Like dr. evil once said,” muahahaha”. All right speaking of our economy, why isn’t weed legal? Makes you hella money, capitalism, and is safe as fuck. Be logical America it’s just a plant that makes you feel bomb. It’s medicinal. Actually now you can fly from sf or Oakland with up to 8 OUNCES of mary jahhneee. At your own risk. Damn.

Josh Abrams - Kids & TV today

Josh Abrams

Childhood TV

When I was a lad, which was last week, I would watch lots cartoons on TV like any other kid born into our technological age. My favorite shows were Hey Arnold!, Doug, Batman Beyond, and many more. I liked these shows not only because they were entertaining, but also because they taught morality in ways that my feeble mind could absorb while watching the lights on the screen. I have seen the shows that the kids now watch and am disappointed to see that the intelligent shows I grew up with have been replaced with shows that are no more than epileptic stylized randomness for 23 minutes. What kids are watching these days is beyond ridiculous. Spongebob tackles Patrick into a vat of cream cheese then turns into a hot air balloon and destroys Squidward’s house...again. Where is the grain of value in that? I just find it sad that kids are going to grow up as spastic as the characters they watch. I know this because I know kids like to pretend to be their favorite characters because I did the same thing when I was little. I used to pretend to be thomas the tank engine and a power ranger, I actually still pretend to be a power ranger on every other sunday, but at least the characters I emulated had more intrinsic value after you take away all the silliness. I’m just worried that the kids who watch the cartoons that are out now are going to grow up and be coked up spazz lords.

College Ten by Mike Madden

Being a student means that you are going to experience many new things. You might hear some new sounds that you have never heard such as moaning coming from the bathroom or new curse words that you never knew existed like, "Son of a Biscuit!" Some of the experiences will leave you in a moment, just like when Hillary Clinton ran for office. Other experiences will stick with you, just like when Bill Clinton cheated on Hillary Clinton. Nonetheless, I had the honor of experiencing a life changing situation, and I would love to tell all of you about it. It was just the other day when I was walking to my car and heard a horrible sound. It was coming from a College Ten dorm building and it sounded just like what sex addicts like to call the "BIG O." But it sounded like the girl was the one really getting it. The boy, if there even was one, must have had some very animalistic qualities to provoke such a sound from the girl. I imagine he had hair everyone on his body, including the arches of his feet. His odor would have to be quite pungent, like that of a dog turd lit on fire by a magnifying glass. I continue to walk down the sidewalk and the sound of sex slowly fades away into the horizon. I was, in my own mind, officially in the clear! But then, from out of no where, a smell hits me! A smell that is quite strong and edgy to say the least. It was the smell of marijuana. God! I love Santa Cruz! Gotta love the wonderful transitions you can find around this campus. Quite honestly, I feel that smoking pot is just fucking disgusting. It would be kind of like smoking a cigarette out of a skunk's asshole. I don't find the appeal, but then again, who I am to say. I watch Oprah. Religiously.

Lesbian Sex

by Jackie R, dyke.

Ha, I knew I could draw you in with a hook like that. Unfortunately I'm not gonna spend much time on the topic though. Except to dispel a common myth: scissoring. I don't know how they make it look hot in the pornos you watch, but think about the mechanics in real life – too much effort to be hot. A real moment-killer even. If you want to see accurate lesbian porn, watch the L Word. They're all about realism there. Because all lesbians are feminine and sexy, right? Oh wait. There's also the rugby-playing, binge-drinking, I'll-punch-you-in-the-face-if-you-look-at-my-girl dykes. Those girls do scissor. Ya, it's a play in rugby. You run down the pitch with your teammate yelling, “Scissor me! I'm scissoring!” It's a pretty gay sport. At the info meeting, the hot captain promised we'd get to hit people, and that she'd teach us how to go down. That got me to show up for practice! It turns out she meant how to take a hit, but since learning that, I'm still down. I like taking girls out. I don't date, but I will headbutt, stiff-arm, or tackle. It's really exciting. After I first learned to tackle, I asked my girlfriend if I could practice on her in my room. She was down until I did it. She looked shocked and hurt, and looked at me like I was an animal. “I thought you meant like play-tackle! Like it was going to be sexy.” I laughed. “Ha what? Rugby isn't supposed to be sexy!” Yeah, we're not together anymore...

Will’s last blog.

Evening space cowboys. Or is it morning. Either way it doesn’t matter because this is my last blog and I DON’T care. (quick side note: Microsoft Word doesn’t recognize the word “blog” as a word. I think we all know this means the very concept of blogging is unnatural and should be regarded with the same amount of contempt as bestiality and Catholicism.) Back to me not caring. This is my fourth blog, and I’m fairly certain I’m winning. I’ve blogged, vlogged, plogged, and twittered (tweeted? Twote? Twaith? Twat?) my way to absolute domination and success. Now I know none of you think this is a contest, hell by the looks of things most of you don’t even know what the blog assignment is, but rest assured it is a very serious contest and I am very serious winning it. Hard. My dick is easier than this. What’s that you say? Let me explain; the minimum length requirement is 250 words and just used 8 of them talking about my dick. 032% of the assignment is directly concerned with my genitals, and if you don’t think that’s impressive just know that my junk is rarely concerned with .032% of anything. I’ve gotten an A on each of these blog assignments so far, so even if I bomb the fuck out of this one, and I certainly intend to, I’ll still be ahead of the game. If this blog gets at least an F and a guarantee it will, my blog total will be eighty-seven point five percent. Did you get that? Did those symbols enter your feeble monkey brain and correspond to the abstract concept you have been taught to call “numbers?” 87.5% Barack Obama’s approval rating is 49%. Do you see where I’m going here? I’m better at comedy blogging than Barack Obama is at being the president of the United States. Math, bitches.

Embarrassing moments

Embarrassing moments

Ive recently had a few embarrassing moments that have happened to me that have gone from bad to worse recently. There not exactly “fuck my life” worthy, but there still worth mentioning. The other day I threw an apple to my friends, with my nonexistent baseball skills it went about 6 feet away from where my original target was. But instead of ending their it kept going and hit the hot girl in our class in the back of the head. A week ago I was trying to get my boxers on in my room, I noticed I had both legs going through one of the leg wholes embarrassing to me but no one else. Instead I fell and tripped through the door and was sprawled half naked in front of one of my roommates and there friends. Thats not even the bad part. I was so flustered that I backed up into the wrong door while apoligizeing and turned around to open my other roommates bedroom. He was having sex with his girlfriend. Yes these are all true stories. Now iam going to look at it from my roommates perspect. First one. Kevin has been an asshole today I asked him for an apple and I think he was mad because I didnt share my fries with him so he threw it out of my reach. He instead hit this girl in the class in the head. She was pissed and Kevin apoligized but he latter just laughed and said he was going to write it in his blog. Second one. Kevin fell out of his room on purpose so he could show all my friends his naked body and while he was apoligizeing bumped into the wrong door. He totally ignored the hat on the door policy and walked in. (other roommates perspective) Kevin walked in on me and my girlfriend mid doggy style and all he could muster up to say for making my erection instantly go down is ooo sorry, I wont say anything.... Embarrassing moments for Kevin Thank you.

Rosie doesn't like Ball-Slaps and Moans - Blog #4 - Ben Gray

Since I’m in college, and all of my friends are in college, I see and hear about roommates and housemates doing some pretty weird shit. I thought I’d heard it all, until I had this little experience of my own.

The girl living in the room next to my girlfriend’s has started seeing this new guy. Since she shares a wall with my girlfriend, we know a lot about their relationship. For example, she really likes him, or he’s really good at sex, or both. I know this because they have the LOUDEST sex I’ve ever heard anyone have. Ever. I also know that this guy is a world-class athlete because these fuckers (no pun intended) can go for HOURS and they never seem to get tired.

The best part yet was last weekend when this guy brought his dog over for the weekend. The best comedy writers in the world couldn’t have written the sceene I heard played out on the other side of that door:
Smack, smack, smack, ooooh, BARK! BARK!, smack, smack, smack, aaaaah, BARK! BARK!

Aparently, Rosie (the dog) isn’t a huge fan of moaning.

Tyler Thompson's 4th blog

I want to talk about one of my favorite (and least favorite) candies: jelly belly's. I say least favorite as well because of the obvious buttered popcorn, caramel corn, cinnamon, etc. It's the worst when you pop a handful of jellys expecting dank fruity flavors and you get one of these. Take for example the combo I just ate: tutti-frutti, rasberry, and licorice. Now, in my defense, I thought the licorice was grape jelly (which would have been a fine combo). Licorice is just one of those flavors that you throw away if you're alone, and trick your friend into catching in their mouth if you aren't. Since all my housemates just like the fruit flavors, the end of a jelly belly box is always full of cappuccino, chocolate pudding, peanut butter, toasted marshmallow and the likes. Usually people in my house just quit eating them all together at that point; we just wait for our guests to finish them until we can get a new box.

I could never understand my dad. He used to just charge the jelly beans; he'd take a handful and plop them all in his mouth at once. I've never tried it, but I imagine it would be like when you mix a bunch of paint colors and it just turns brown, except that it's in your mouth and tastes like shit. Now that I'm thinking about it though, he also liked licorice, so I guess it makes sense.

Tyler Thompson's 4th blog

I want to talk about one of my favorite (and least favorite) candies: jelly belly's. I say least favorite as well because of the obvious buttered popcorn, caramel corn, cinnamon, etc. It's the worst when you pop a handful of jellys expecting dank fruity flavors and you get one of these. Take for example the combo I just ate: tutti-frutti, rasberry, and licorice. Now, in my defense, I thought the licorice was grape jelly (which would have been a fine combo). Licorice is just one of those flavors that you throw away if you're alone, and trick your friend into catching in their mouth if you aren't. Since all my housemates just like the fruit flavors, the end of a jelly belly box is always full of cappuccino, chocolate pudding, peanut butter, toasted marshmallow and the likes. Usually people in my house just quit eating them all together at that point; we just wait for our guests to finish them until we can get a new box.

I could never understand my dad. He used to just charge the jelly beans; he'd take a handful and plop them all in his mouth at once. I've never tried it, but I imagine it would be like when you mix a bunch of paint colors and it just turns brown, except that it's in your mouth and tastes like shit. Now that I'm thinking about it though, he also liked licorice, so I guess it makes sense.

FINAL COMEDY BLOG by Robin Liepman

Good morning stand up class, and welcome to Robin Liepman's "ROBIN LIEPMAN'S BLOG!"
Ew, I just sneezed and mucus came out of my throat. I don't like being sick.
Isn't it funny though, how if you're in a very silly mood, things that are normally considered "disgusting" or "rude" become hilarious and applauded? In the comedy zone, you are allowed to break the rules. You are allowed to reach to the limits of the mind which are usually blocked by the superego, and tickle those neurons.

So I was wondering the other day, I wonder if monks have wet dreams? I mean they aren't allowed to do anything sexual, so they either focus their chi so hard that their sperm never comes out, or their fire hydrant just comes undone when they're sleeping. I wonder if they make jokes with each other about it.
Also on the topic of sperm, why are trojan condoms named after a vessel that entered a fortress and broke open with little guys running around and pillaging everything?

So yesterday I saw a real-live bean bag gun! It was intense. I was in the student protests, which was a pretty silly operation. Riot police came at 7am and we were inside singing at the top of our lungs "Solidarity forever! Solidarity forever! Solidarity forever! Education makes us strong!" as the police outside violently pushed all the protesters in front of the building down a staircase, injuring a teacher and making everyone upset. I decided that behind every angry riot-policeman is a little anger-child who will take any chance he gets to shoot at some college kids that remind him of the ones who used to bully him. Sigh. Can't people lighten up. Cops are robots when they're on duty.

Speaking of robots, more specifically iRobot, Tom Cruiz has successfully converted Will Smith to scientology.
I wonder how that happened.
Tom: "Hey Will, I have something kind of important I want to talk to you about..."
Will: "Haha go ahead brother, as long as it's not that one thing that you want to talk to me about..."
Tom: "Well Will, it's a very serious matter, I mean... you've been in movies about robots and zombies, but will you really be prepared for them when they actually come? I can see the headlines now: Movie star Will Smith can act like a robot-shooting zombie-ass-kicking hero, but when faced with them in real life, his guts were torn apart and eaten like spaghetti on a quaint italian sunday afternoon. How horrible is that Will? How horrible! I can't let this happen Will.. So I need you to... get an E-gram"
Will: "Oh hell nah Tom! I'm not joining your stupid cult as much as you want me to!"
Tom: "I see how it's going to be Will. Well that's all fine and dandy, because I put drugs in your drink and I will have my alien friends reprogram your brain while you are asleep."
Will collapses and wakes up in the morning as a strong advocate of Scientology.

Well, I hope you enjoy my entry!
Peace on earth till 2012! Hopefully longer.
Love,
Robin Liepman

Shayne's Funny Food (blog 4)

I came home for the first time in about 2 months last weekend. Things are still the same as usual, parents, house, pet, even the neighbors. My parents also happened to have some visitors over that were from out of country, namely Europe. They were staying over at our place with my parents cooking for them. My parents made them some really great meals, dishes that I ate growing up and dishes that our guests where loving. They ask what the names of the dishes are and they involve really exotic names such as Crispy Pata, Dinu Gu An, Palya, or my personal favorite the dish called Baloot. Now don’t get me wrong, these dishes are really good and have really funny and exotic names. But I’m our guests would stop eating them once they found out what the translation actually was. Crispy pata actually translated to fried pigs leg (bone, toe and all cartiledge included). Dinu Gu An doesn’t really have a translation but it’s actually boiled pigs blood with jalapenos, chunks of meat, and chopped onions, it’s actually pretty tangy and absolutely delicious. Palya is actually sautéed bitter melon, it looks like a cucumber except more wrinkly and with smooth looking boils. Baloot? If you’ve seen an episode of Fear Factor, you’re going to realize that it’s boiled rotten chicken embryo. Just add a touch of salt and you’ve got yourself one hell of an asian delicacy. Suffice it to say, asian people give really good dishes funny names because they don’t want to freak out the other people they feed it to.

Blog 3 (late) Shayne and the Shiny Things in Life

It’s really funny how human beings have applied value to random objects throughout the years for really stupid reasons. If I had my way, I would have everyone apply value to things that actually made a difference. For example, back in the days of sailing around the world to get from point A to point B, one of the most important things in the world at the time where spices. Why? Spices such as salt would keep meat for extended periods of time. Silks were also a major commodity. They made the clothes that either made a person hot or not (literally).
Now let’s take a look at what the common person seems to add value to. People’s eyes glow like Christmas trees whenever they see any example of what we consider to be precious metals. Whether that be a ring, a necklace, or a bracelet. Gold, silver, platinum, you name it, we praise it. Why? Because it is shiny. OOOOOOOOOOh, shiny! Or even better, those commercials that say “diamonds are a girl’s best friend” or my personal favorite “Every kiss begins with Kay” from Kay Jewelers. All I have to say is that had better be one hell of a kiss because that’s a fucking expensive ass kiss. Not to mention it’ll probably be an expensive marriage, and why? Because diamonds are SHINY! Girl’s best friend? Man’s worst nightmare, unless of course you’re Mr. T in which case you’re a walking talking jewelry store complete with security measure and advertising.
Now, lets take a look at a more practical stand point: the average college student. More often than not this species of human being is relatively low on the economic scale. Now granted of course that this species is still intrigued by the concept of anything shiny…they are more hell bent on finding ingestibles that alter their state of mind. For example, the cheapest form of mind bending would be alcohol. Note how it is not how shiny the alcohol is but either how abundant it is or the quality of it. Case and point, just about every store will run out of this amazing substance known as Natural Ice beer, or as more college students affectionally call it “Nati-Ice”. It’s consistently one of the cheapest beers out in the market and the staple of beer pong games everywhere. Now for an example for quality, Bacardi 151 and Patron would be the liquors of choice because they boast the high alcohol content which usually causes a lapse in memory during the night it is ingested which is ironic because people still remember the hell of a night they had on it.

Blog #4- Upcoming holidays

Christopher D. Garcia

Comedy Blog #4- Thanksgiving and Christmas Holidays

So Thanksgiving is coming up in a few days. Some people are going all the way back to LA and that fucking sucks to have to travel so far. I am lucky enough to live in San Jose, so I don’t have to travel too far. Thanksgiving is a time for families to get together and enjoy a good dinner… since I’m Mexican that means at least 3 or 4 kegs of beer and a piñata somewhere. I never really enjoy thanksgiving with other people in my family which doesn’t include parents, and siblings because it seems like most people in my family are also scam artists in some way or another… have you ever had a grandmother who made you pay for kisses? Haha, ok my grandma isn’t that way but those my age are. Christmas is the same thing… we all go to my grandmother’s house. I think people only go for the presents, but all anyone ever gets is usually just a pair of socks or some other stupid crap to jack off in. And of course there is Santa Claus who stalks you all year long...

I also never liked having to buy presents on the holidays, because I am always so effing broke that I can’t afford anything. Then there’s choosing the right present, and it’s like “if you love me you would know exactly what I want”. Sigh… don’t we all love capitalistic America? Happy holidays everyone…

Truthfully… I would rather spend my holidays out on the streets. Why? Because that’s where all the fucking money is! Have you ever seen how much homeless people rake in on the holidays? Imagine that, times ten… ok you will still probably only have a dollar. But imagine street performing on the holidays, people are way more giving at those times of the year, as opposed to other times of the year where I’m just a ghost on the sidewalk. Maybe I will be able to make enough to pay for the RAISED TUITION... like that's gonna happen...

Julie Roth on Bladder Control

There's only one thing I can think about right now and it's how badly I need to pee. While the easy solution would be to go to the bathroom, I'm in the Kresge computer lab and I've laid all my stuff out. Besides if I left, one of these assholes might steal my apple so they have something to eat while they sell my stuff outside the Kresge Co-op.
Just the other day, I was driving home from College 9/10 when I suddenly realized that I was going to wet my pants. I prayed I could make it home, but I live in mid-town, which is a good 20 minute drive. Regardless, I didn’t make it past the first stop sign. I was sweaty and shaking and on the brink of tears debating on whether or not I should just let it happen, but I’m too psychologically fragile to handle being “that girl that peed in her car while driving.” Plus I probably wouldn’t be able to get the smell out. In a fit of panic I tore up that side road towards the Fire Department/Crown/Merrill thinking, “I’ll just park and run into the woods and do my thing.” However, my bladder was all, “YEAH RIGHT, BITCH. THE TIME IS NIGH.” So I did the only thing I could think of: I stopped at the stop sign near the top of the hill, threw my emergency/hazard lights on (like they actually excuse my van from doing illegal things by being parked in illegal places), jammed on the emergency brake, and put that mother into park so I could run behind that sparse clump of trees on the right (maybe you know them? Well, they are mine now). Upon completion, I pulled up my pants and tried to feel for any wet spots (because guys, women generally don’t have dicks so you just have to squat and hope you didn’t pee on your self, clothes, or shoes) as I trotted back to my van, keys still in the ignition.

Comedy Blog #4 - Greg Towle

So, here’s something I’ve noticed about the world. It’s fat. I mean, seriously, that’s all the world is. Think about it, you go to a Supermarket, and you’re walking around, looking at things, stealing grapes from the produce aisle, just a normal Tuesday afternoon, and every single person you see is fat. And the sad thing is, they’re all so concerned about dieting and everything, you can see their diet pills in their carts. On problem with that is they’re next to the 2 pounds of bacon and the box of twinkies! And that’s another thing about supermarkets and fat people. The checkouts. These things are designed to make you feel fat, and in need of comfort food. You walk up, first thing you see is the wrack of magazines, all saying things like, “Use this simple tip to lose 30 pounds in one week!” And having pictures of incredibly skinny models on the front. So, when you turn away in frustration and utter disappointment, what do you see? Altoids, gum, and candy bars. Perfect trap for the unwary fat person.

Kara Kraus Blog 4

Dear all my adoring blog followers,

I regret to inform you that this is my final blog entry. It has been fun: we have ridiculed people, shared awkward experiences, and even encountered racism. But unfortunately, like Seinfeld and toe socks, all good things must come to an end.

I want you to know that I will live on, making fun of people and having dialogues with myself, but I will not be posting them on the internet for the world to enjoy.

I know this news is tough to swallow (real mature guys), knowing all of you this is probably the second worst thing to happen to you (the first being Miley Cyrus deleting her twitter, October 7, 2009, a day that will live in infamy)

But I believe all of you will be ok. You all will continue living your lives, just take a little of me with you. The next time that douche from the hall says something dickish – go ahead and think those terrible things about him. The next time you have an awkward moment fell free to share it with someone – they have probably experience the same thing – EVEN IF THAT BITCH WON’T ADMIT IT.

Continue on, brave soldiers, in the words of the late Celine Dione (what? She’s still alive? Holy Jesus)
“My heart will go on”

Olivia Mendonca, Blog #4: Word to Your Mother!

One would imagine that when people look at me, the word “gangster” isn't typically the first thing that comes to mind. Strangely enough, I've been told on more than one occasion (by different people each time, mind you) that I am, in fact, a gangster. It's rather confusing to me. Granted, I have participated in my fair share of drive-bys in my day, but there's really not much else to support this accusation. (Well, that and the trunk full of guns and drug money, but that's it, I swear...)

The earliest time I can remember someone calling me a gangster was when I was in middle school. And back then I was even smaller and more shy than I am now, so I really can't explain where this came from. I'm even pretty sure that people called me “O-Dawg” at one point or another. (That's kind of a fun nickname; please feel free to start calling me that if you'd like.) The whole gangster thing really picked up when I was on my high school's cross country team. If you think about it, that REALLY doesn't make sense; can you imagine trying to run several miles with your pants sagging to the middle of your thighs? It's quite a challenge. I thought the whole thing would finish with graduating high school, but it seems to have followed me here to college. Perhaps I should stop throwing gang signs out the window every time I ride the bus. That could be really dangerous.

Like I said, I'm not exactly sure how this all started, but maybe it has to do with the fact that I didn't grow up watching the same version of Sesame Street as everybody else:



Elmo's not so cute after he busts a cap in your ass. “Tickle this!”

Blog #4 November 24, 2009

Dear Bloggy,

I feel so distressed in saying that this is going to be my last letter to you. I feel like I’ve gotten to know you so well over this time despite the fact that you never write back to me (it can be so infuriating at times not getting a response back from you!) Bloggy all I’m saying is that it can be hard to say I love you if I never hear it back from you. Sometimes I feel like I’m talking to myself here most of the time. You can be so cold and machine like sometimes. You never ask how my days are going, even though I tell you ALL THE TIME! I think this relationship is coming to an end Bloggy. Maybe we just don’t feel that same spark of love as we once did. The once prominent live journal days are over and now we’re just trying to get a few laughs out of each other with these new comedy blogs, but those are over now. It’s time to move on. We have to go our separate paths. I think it’s time I start writing for other blogs, or even do different kinds of writing in general. What I’m really trying to say is that you don’t make me feel like that little girl from the bayou you once made me feel way back when. I need time to settle things. I don’t want you contacting me ever again. We’re through after this blog post. I don’t want your ugly ones and zeros to ever show up at my front door ever again. But hey, at least I didn’t break up with you through a text message or through facebook right?

Always Yours,
Jamus Hain

P.S. Maybe we can still be friends?

Living at home is truly wonderful. Not all college students are as

Lucky as I am; I get daily motivational pep talks from my mother. Even on my birthday my Mom couldn’t help but chastise me. She saw my bloodshot eyes yesterday and immediately began yelling at me for playing Call of Duty Modern Warfare II for seven hours straight. It's like come on Mom, I not getting plastered or kite-high anymore. At least let me indulge in my fantasy of killing hundreds of people for a few hours of the day. I'm kind of on edge now that I'm sober and the only thing keeping me from going Timothy McVeigh on everyone is my X-box, my ex's box is an entirely different thing. (Fuck that whore) Anyway I can't wait to graduate from college(two weeks left!)so I can join the real world of slavish workers and unmedicated psychopaths. Looking back on my college education here at UCSC all I can say is that I wish I had done more drugs, because for me the party is over and now it is time to clean up the mess. My parting advice for you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed freshmen is to live life to the fullest by seizing the day, one day at a time. Don’t waste time smoking marijuana, instead grab life by the horns and drop acid. Peace.

Paper: Problems, Precautions, and Playtime (Ben Siegel)

Oh the multitudes of use of paper. First off who woulda thought that by simply pressing a bunch of carbon fibers together we could get a medium to scribble, write, etch, draw, and doodle? A packet of paper is like a carton of condoms, self contained and taken as just an object it is not so much fun. However, after unwrapping and applying liberal amounts of imagination (or smooth talk) a simple sheet turns into hours of amusement. Both are patterned sort of, one ribbed for her pleasure and the other lined for his scripting ease.

However a piece of paper can turn into a nightmare easily. If not taken seriously a piece of paper can be used as a weapon. A lá paper cuts... Now I'm not talking about petty cuts from a motorcycle or car accident, but hardcore paper cuts. These things are worse than getting shanked with a 7 inch, switch blade. Luckily if you get stabbed in the chest you will only have to suffer for 3 or 4 minutes before you die of blood loss or get into an ambulance and pass the fuck out. But paper cuts, thats a different tale. Getting a paper cut on your chest would just hurt like a mother fucker. And you can't do anything about it either, complain or call an ambulance and you sound like a pussy, but suffer in silence and your whole month is ruined. That's the thing too with paper cuts they take a lifetime to heal up again, if they ever do that. A paper cut to the nipp, no thanks, I'll pass on that. Actually probably pass-out till sunrise. If there was an urban gangster street fist-fight and that one kid who always brakes the rules brought a piece of dry-ass crispy cardboard and a few fresh stiff index cards, everyone would cower in fear. Ninjas don't even mess with paper, thats why their arch rival is geishas with origami knives. Imagine walking into a papermill naked. Paper filaments a strew everywhere, and poor you without any clothes. I'd give you 15 seconds before you died of blood loss. Pretty soon airport security will be scanning for paper knives and any thing bigger than a 1'' by 1'' piece will be confiscated on the spot.

Too bad for the pen manufactures too, everyone knows thats why people migrated to computers. The worst they can do is delete your whole porn collection in 2 seconds. But still nothing is more classic than the 3 hours of arguing and bargaining with your Mom as she throws out your whole stash. Paper-cuts while jackin off? I'll take computers. Or actually plastic cuts are no fun either. Oh wait that's why there is actual attractive members of the opposite sex.

Fuck it, both paper and computers were just invented to bring together random hookups anyways. Pen-pals? Come on, more like fuck buddies, at least with modern technology people skip the bullshit and actually post advertisements for fuck buddies.

Word. Peace love and respect. Best of luck to all, keep laughing.

The Life of a Professional Gamer. David Leavitt(Blog 4)

One T.V. show I want to talk about. It’s MTV’s True life. On this certain episode of True Life, they follow around 3 “professional gamers” from around the country. Now when I say professional gamers, I mean people who play video games for a living. As in they sign a contract with a certain company and then get paid to play video games at tournaments where they compete against other professional gamers. They even have training sessions where they play up to eleven hours of sweet video games a day in order to stay at the top of their game. The show follows around three pro-gamer athletes, all at the top of their games. You will never see a set of fingers move quicker on a video game controller in your life. My favorite part of this show is that MTV was able to find three pro-gaming Titans who they were able to depict as your ordinary teenagers. In other words, they found three kids who play an insane amount of video games that weren’t morbidly obese, and full of zits. One of them is a white kid from Florida who dropped out of high school to play video games full time. What’s unique about this kid is that he actually has a girlfriend, with MTV trying to show that you can play video games thirteen hours a day and still somehow get pussy. Another gamer is a black kid from Harlem, who’s only on the show because MTV doesn’t want to lose their black audience. Unfortunately, MTV never got the memo that BET exists. The third person they follow around is a skinny Asian girl who plays Counter-Strike, a game that probably has about five female players, one of which is this skinny Asian girl. All of these gamers train there asses in order to be video game champions of the world.

Now I don’t want to send off the wrong message here. I don’t have anything against video games or video game athletes. I love video games and pro video-gamers. I just think the whole, signing a “contract” and “training” and ‘game-planning” thing, is a little much. Then again, all three of these pro-gamers each make around 60,000 dollars a year, which is about 58, 000 more than I earn. Professional Gamers 1, David 0.

Nick Patti finally understands! (Comedy Blog #4)

So this is the last comedy blog that I’m writing for this class, and I feel that, in order to finish this quarter of cyber-comedy off right, I need to talk about something that I’m really passionate about. I really need to revitalize my readers and present them with material that I coming straight from my heart, right from the pits of my left ventricle to the ocular receptors inside your brain. I must tell you all something, for I have a bellowing urge to do so. Take this advice and heed it well, for it will surely help you, fair reader, in the years to come:

If you watch South Park, you will ALWAYS have friends.

I really just noticed this fact a few days ago while I was walking with my buddy to Crown Library to study for a test. As we were walking over to the library, we were just shootin’ the shit (which is a pretty gross expression if you really think about it, but I guess it’s appropriate at this point, because before we left, I was trying to flush a shit down the toilet, but every time I pulled the handle to flush the thing, the water would just slowly trickle down the brim of the toilet just as quickly as it would go down the drain, so the water wasn’t even draining properly, and my shit was just spinning there in the current, taunting me… So just to spite it, I left it there, alone and unloved. So far my friend didn’t say anything, so I guess I’m off the hook. Wow… that was a long aside, ANYWAY) and while we were talking he continues, “Yeah, it’s just like that one episode of South Park, you know? The one when Cartman gets a bowel transplant and the ghost of Billy Mays gives Satan a handjob?” (or something to that effect. I bet there are some episodes which elude to those events taking place, or that the writers of that show have at least played with those ideas, I dunno) And then it hit me like a ton of feathers, and I said:

“Wow, those feathers were soft and cozy!”

And then I passed out, falling into a deep slumber, but when I woke up, I came upon a revelation. I realized that during high school and college, eight times out of ten conversations with fairly good acquaintances start with, “Did you see the new episode of South Park?” which are, usually, followed up with, “Yeah!” and then quickly turn to, “Remember that one part when X happened to Y, and Z was obscenely racist to A while O was being made fun of for being a ginger, and then…?” and would keep on continuing as such until either the conversation tapered off from an awkward silence caused by one’s deficient South Park knowledge, or, if the conditions are right, the conversation could continue all the way to the end of the period, and all of a sudden their relationship blossomed from one of, “Oh, I kinda know him/her… he/she seems like a pretty cool guy,” to, “Oh yeah! We know each other! We’re pretty much the best of friends! I’d take a bullet to the face for this person because our collective knowledge of South Park runs deep! I love life!” It only took me a few years to actually figure that out…

But now I finally understand! South Park is the foundation that high school and college friendships sit upon! Without knowledge of South Park, one cannot socialize with others unless they’re looking to create a rather uncomfortable atmosphere amongst peers, or even worse, start a fight. One must understand South Park in order to flourish in the social realm, so a fresh awareness of last week’s episode is imperative for social success.

I didn’t watch any South Park in high school, so I didn’t have very many friends.

They also made fun of gingers in South Park, so I REALLY didn’t have very many friends.

And I just got this really cool Harley Davidson t-shirt last summer, but because of South Park, I might as well have “FAGGOT” emblazoned on the front of my shirt.

Thanks, FUCKERS.

CHARLIE NILAWAT"S RANT ON NEW MOON

So the new twilight movie came out, and so far it grossed 140.7 million dollars. That places it third behind spider man 3 and the dark knight, in highest grossing box office debut. That means collectively the population of girls who like the steaming pile of shit of a movie have enough money that they can afford to spend 140 million total on this movie.
And the premise..annoys me. it shocks me that some lady can write a story about a hundred year old vampire trying to get it with a teenager ( statutory rape) and everyone gobbles it up. not only that but somehow this lead character becomes the objective fixation of a millions of girls. who doesn't exist and can never exist and only enforces my belief that girls are only satisfied by things that don't exist so why bother (female orgasm? what that)
And stephanie meyers must be like a gazillionaire. First she wrote these books and got a lot of bucks, and now she sold the rights to make movie only to make even more money. And she appeals to the biggest market ever...girls. I mean you never see this shit with guys. IF you made a book about a girl who is a vampire who loves this guy but can't be with him...you know what would happen...the guy would say fuck it and move on and the trilogy would become a single novel and you wouldn't make as much money.

WoUCSCQ

Alright, for the last blog I do I think I'll nerd out a bit. Recently, Massively Multiplayer Online Games (MMOs) have become the easiest way to sell your soul to the internet for only $15 a month. I, too, was once sucked into this geek sensation sweeping the nation. But after you kill your 700^th dragon and conjure fire on your 345^th troll, everything seems to start meshing together. Society has turned fantasy into a bland and unoriginal mushpile of swords and sorcerers. I feel that a truly innovative game must break out of the fantasy shell. Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you World of UC Santa Cruz Quest

This breakthrough MMO puts you in control of an online UC Santa Cruz student! Level up by avoiding doing actual work as much as possible. Earn even bigger XP boosts by smoking in the forest beforehand! Grab your friends on a Friday night and participate in epic party quests before you get broken up by the in-game peacekeepers!

Choose from any one of the unique and fun classes!

The Hipster:

The Hipster starts with a special in-game road bike mount, but is only able to use this mount for the entire game. Equip your man-purse and increase its stats by adding on as many ironic political pins that you can find! The Hipster is a very fragile class, but what it lacks for in stamina, it makes up for in individuality.

The Hook:

The Hook is primarily a buffing class, providing medicinal herbs to the rest of his allies. The Hook can only wear flannel-type items and can only change armor every 5 days, however, the Hook has the added benefit of getting a lot of money from out of nowhere to pay for things that he does not need. The Hook is the most sought-after of any class in World of UC Santa Cruz Quest and is a good choice for any players who don't mind finishing the game in over 6 years.

The Frat:

The Frat is the toughest class in World of UC Santa Cruz Quest, but a Frat cannot cast spells due to its low intelligence rating. The Frat is also the rarest class played in World of UC Santa Cruz Quest because there is no player housing available for Frat guilds. Instead Frats must party with other classes as much as possible. Frats can put out a lot of damage with their ping-pong ball projectile attack and popped collar razor headbutt attack.

Look for WoUCSCQ in stores January 2010!

-Trevor Seyfried

Vamps

Emily Selya

Comedy Blog

What is with the obsession over the vampire film Twilight? The fans are all literally insane. A few girls scratched their necks until they bled and then begged the star of the film, Robert Pattinson, to bite them and change them into vampires. Don’t they realize that Robert Pattinson is not actually a vampire but just an actor? They are truly insane. My cousin is one of these crazy fans and firmly believes as long as Robert is single she has “a shot with him.” First off he’s a huge celebrity and second off she is thirteen years old. Why do people believe just because he is single he will be with them? People are really obnoxious and obsessed with this series. You say the name Edward they scream, have pale skin they scream, say there is a ‘new moon’ out in the sky and they scream, it is absolutely ridiculous. I have even heard that there are girls that put their dildos in the freezer so that it would be like fucking a vampire. What is wrong with our world? These people are crazy and Robert Pattinson was even hit by a car running from crazy fans. Since this film became so big the television network is putting anything vampire up and people are watching it. They have shows like the vampire diaries and true blood (which is actually good). No one seems to think there is anything wrong with a one-hundred and nine year old vampire stalker being with a teenage girl. The whole thing is bizarre and wrong. Twilight’s popularity is really freaking out born again christains and they say “Twilight and Harry Potter are the devils tools.” Ironically Robert Pattinson starred in both films making him the most hated person among born again Christians. All I have to say to crazy twilight fans is stop fucking popsicles and get a life.

Fish Rock

I’ve been playing drums since I was in the 6th grade. Originally, It was John Bonham that made me pick up the sticks. But my skills had me settle for lesser inspiration in Paul Rudd, the drummer of AC/DC. I was in a band for a few days called the Kentucky Fried Bunnies. We quickly disbanded after we butchered Green Day’s “Brain Stew.” It was many years before my scars from that fateful performance healed. Friends of mine had started a band. And a guitar playing buddy of mine were discussing Zep Zeppelin lore. When his father overheard us and relayed a story he had heard about them beating a groupie with a cold, dead fish we decided to form a band. 

This intense fascination with fish goes far back. I am a pisces. But more specifically, when I was 9 and my sister was 11 we filled a plastic bag with palmolive and boaked (my new past tense of bike) down to the Seal Beach City Hall. There was a courtyard with a waterfall fountain. We just tossed the whole thing in there knowing our finger prints were not waterproof. Our mom taught us that. She also taught us to keep a look out for our crimes in the police reports for the next couple days. We had our eyes peeled for some type of vandalism to city property, but certainly were not ready for the contents of the report. Fish Murder!

This morbid lesson, “look before you add soap” was learned in full.  I remember saying sorry to each and everyone of those 17 dead fish each night for weeks. And I believe it is this very thing that attracted me to rejoin a musical group. You get shown the light in the the strangest of places if you look at it right. I'm Andrew Hine

Blog #4- 'Stand up comedy is like sex' my ass! - James Farmer

Stand up comedy isn't like sex at all for a lot of reasons. First off, sex is done in the safety of your home (or not, if that's your thing) while stand up comedy is done in front of a live audience. If it was the opposite, that would be really awkward either way.

If you get laughs during stand up comedy, that's a great sign, and you're doing a good job. If you get laughs during sex, it's almost never a good sign. In fact, it can be very destroying to one's self esteem. I personally only get a few chuckles during sex, and then a lot of disappointing sighs.

And with sex, there's not nearly as much pressure. Sure, I may be judged by my performance, but at least I'm not getting a letter grade. It's kinda like a pass/no pass class, except way better. It also seems I get way too much stage time with stand up comedy, and almost no stage time with sex. So I guess if I was having sex for a letter grade, I might not get as good of a grade since I'm not doing it as much. But I'm sure if there actually was a sex class, more people will be willing to do study sessions since they also must study for the exam. Could you study alone for such a class? I mean, I guess you could masturbate, but that would probably only be part of the final. Or maybe you could watch porno, but that's like watching a stand up comedy show instead of rehearsing. Ok, I'm thinking way too much into this.

But then again, a sex class would be interesting. Not like sex education, but like, a class about how to have sex. I don't know how well it would go, though. I imagine it would fill up very, very fast, so only Seniors will have the chance to take that class. And what kind of elective would it fill? Is it a science class, or perhaps an art class? Maybe there's several different classes, like lower and upper division courses. How fucking rad would that be to tell someone "Yeah, I got an A in Sex 109. It's the final upper division sex course," But then, that might be a turn off, since that means that that specific person also did a lot of 'studying,' and I could only imagine how risky having sex with someone who did a lot of studying for that class would be.

Because you can't just have sex with one person, you studies must be diversified! That would be like only studying simple polynomial differentiation and saying "I know everything there is to know about Calculus," So maybe a sex class wouldn't be such a good idea. Plus, it would probably take the fun out of sex. I mean, sex is something you do to AVOID homework. That is, if you are able to have sex on that much of a whim. Not all of us are that fortunate. I, for one, can't have sex that easily. And maybe that's not such a good thing right now, but at least I know that the times I do have sex, it's actually really awesome, and usually a highlight for that week. It certainly beats studying. And maybe that's why we don't have sex classes: Sex may either be something very special with a loved one, or done in an anonymous room at a sweet party, but one thing's for sure, it's something to be looked forward to. And having it as a class, well, who looks forward to studying? Even last year when I had game design classes, it was still a pain to research something think is pretty cool.

Wow, if I spent this much time thinking about things that are actually important, then I'd probably be a better person right now.

So in conclusion, stand up comedy isn't like sex in the least bit. And if sex was LIKE stand up comedy class, then sex would probably be worse than stand up comedy.

-James Farmer

This is It Friends. 4th by Kirill Zaitsev

Let’s discuss a few of my itsy-winny-bitsy (they’re really minute) Pet peeves.

1. People having discussions in narrow corridors.

I love debating about whether or not Jesus would eaten turkey as much as the next dude, but there is a place for that discussion, namely NOT in the middle of a path. People commonly bump into friends (I’m not against this) and start talking (also cool with me) right in the middle of sidewalks (GRRRR go die). Please take one giant step to the left, and carry on. These people also have the nerve to give ME funny looks when I have to circumnavigate them; “what’s wrong with you?” the looks ask.

Dear Santa, I would like a high voltage cattle prod for Christmas.

2. Slow people at the salad bar.

I’m a vegan, i.e. I eat more vegetables than the population of a small southern state does. So if you are in line in front of me at Fresh Choice, and are trying to pick which wedge of carrot you like the most… you are depriving me of my fix, and if you change your mind about which cherry tomato you want one more time, I will set you on fire (or cattle prod you once my Christmas Wishes come true) Don’t mess with Vegans, when we’re hungry we mean business.

3. Ugly curtains.

Okay, this is the only thing in the world I invoke my I’m-Gay-so-I-know-better-because-its-in-my-DNA credential (and when I complain about place settings, and when I defend not knowing what sport the Red Sox play). If you hung something up over your windows that looks like it was just used to wipe up an oil spill/ spent 5000 years in the 7^th circle of hell/ is something Ray Charles would have choose, then I WILL comment. I’ll be subtle “did those come with the house?” or “These must have saved you a fortune!” or if I’ve had some wine: “Do you really want to know why your husband left you? Follow me, here it is! Hanging right there in front of your windows!”

That’s All folks.

Fire fire fire! Tyler Watson's blog

Hi, I’m a fireman, and you know what that means? I look good with my shirt off. No, I kid, that is a stereotype and I am not for them. I am a fireman, but that has nothing to do with what I am about to tell you. I found a dead bird in my mailbox today. It was decaying and smelled like all hell. No, I kid, I just got my mail today. I like to imagine strange things happening to me. I am a fireman though, we haven’t had much action the past month, and I’m not talking about fires! No, I kid, I did mean the fires. We have only been called as paramedics, no fires the past month which is crazy because it has been a blistering month. No, I kid, it’s been freezing, a very cold november. But that usually means that people’s fireplace fires get out of hand here or there. Were waiting for a call, and I’ll be ready. Until then we’ve been playing lots of poker. No, I kid, I take my job very seriously. But we do play poker now and again. I’m not very good. No, I kid, I do quite well for myself. I am looking for a girlfriend though, so if you read this and you’re interested you should give me a call at 899-6758. No, I kid, that’s not really my phone number and I’m actually married. It was a joke.

Abigail Cunningham: FAT

Dear Dining Halls of UC Santa Cruz,

Why do you want me to be so fat? When going into college everyone told me I would gain the freshman 15, but being as ignorant as I am, I refused to believe them. I thought “Oh, I'm going to work out everyday and eat salads and fruits and lots and lots of protein”. NOPE. Thanks to Santa Cruz Dining Halls, I'm slowly working my way up... in weight that is. All I eat is carbs, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, bagels, bread, pasta, pizza and my worst enemy: FRENCH FRIES. At home french fries weren't even an option unless I went out to buy them but here they are accessible until midnight! Thats insane. I think colleges want students to get fat so we can spend all our time on campus sitting around studying like big huge blobs. Yes Santa Cruz has hills, bike rides and nice hikes but God dammit the dining hall foods are just so good... yet sooo bad. Now Thanksgiving is coming up and I have no time to eat healthy because I know I'll be grubbin on mounds of mashed potatoes, gravy, turkey and lots and lots of stuffing and Pie! And I'll be sleeping in until 2 everyday recovering from all the sleep I've lost here, so Santa Cruz Dining Halls, Im ordering you to clean up your act by next week. Im talkin yummy vegetables, better salad selections and a ban on french fries. Yes this may cause a massive strike, maybe even more massive than the one were having for budget cuts. But for me and the people of Santa cruz help us loose weight and clean up our acne by healthying up those dining halls.

Thank you,

A very concerned and overweight citizen

I JAZZERCISE FOR EXERCISE!

So I went to Jazzercise on Friday, you know at the Roller Rink Palladium with overweight, middle-aged woman who love to dance and my two best gay friends who, of course, love to dance and dress up in spandex. I think they think that every time we go there it’s a Richard Simmons workout video because they insist on only wearing spandex onesies. I usually go there on the weekends to get a little cardio going before a major night out, like have you ever thought of all the calories you consume on just one Friday night in alcoholic beverages alone, not to mention the after party munchies? A shit load and I don't have time to wait for the morning runs nor can I afford another ten more pounds on my ass, thank you. Anyway, back to Jazzercise it’s just a really accepting environment, where I know I won’t be judged on how good I am or how flexible I am (fucking pretentious yogalatites). Ageism and Fatism doesn’t exist in the realm of Jazzercise, boobs are flopping, asses are gigglin’ and those cottage cheese thighs have never given so many high fives. It’s a pretty sacred place where everyone has that unspoken bond of trust and respect for one another. Like I’ve been to a lot of chastity groups and they could care less about friendship because all they really care about is preserving their image, which is already tainted by their undying love for the Jonas Brothers and Josh Grobin. I feel for the women who wake up every morning and come to class, being able to wake up on a weekend at 8am to dance your heart out while your husband’s lazy ass is still in bed. (so much resentment) Men can eat five cheese burgers in a day and still stay skinny. Like today “I feel like such a heifer. I had two bowls of Special K, 3 pieces of turkey bacon, a handful of popcorn, 5 peanut butter M&M's and like 3 pieces of licorice.” And I feel like ralphing. One and two and three and four come everybody and move and back, front, back and side to side. Gotta work off all the feelings you ate last night. You’re looking better already!

-Madelyn Somers

Off To The Races

Zack Oleinik

Okay so here is something I do every week or so during the summer; I'm drunk at the horse races and I lose a lot of money. This is how the story goes, I drive up to the Del Mar Fair race tracks, in sunny San Diego with of bunch of my naive buddies. The talk throughout the whole day prior to the first race is about how great a time we are about to have, and how much money we will be making throughout the afternoon, plus how hammered we are all about to get. The thing is I have lived on the beach my entire life, thus I know nothing about farming and livestock, and for that matter I have no clue what to look for in a horse. I have been trying to figure out what it is in a horse that makes it faster than the rest of the pack for years now, and well this is what I have learned, or at least been told. Keep in my mind I've never meet a cowboy, thus I receive most of my knowledge at the track from the guys there. The thing is, all the guys at the race track are fucking duechbags who pretend to be something their not, as they hop out of their '94 Geo Metros, and strap on their fake Rolex's while popping the collar of their Salvation Army grade shirts. Basically the demographics at this things is similiar to that of a Kid Rock concert, a bunch of dudes who don't know shit yet still have a swagger in their step. And sadly I have for sometime time now, taken and applied the advise these indivduals have given me.
The selection process, for what horse I will be putting my money on begins at an area known as the paddock, the place in which the proud usually mexican trainer gracefully walks the horse around a small lap in front of many speclators. Every step, every movement of the horse is noticed by hundreds, but really what part of the step is relevant to a winner, and whats just horse shit? Well I heard, bet on the horse with the fattest ass that means great acceleration, or go for the lengthy horse with long lengths, good stamina and long strides. My uncle told me to go for the horse that shits or pisses before the races because he is clearly comfortable and phyiscally a few pounds lighter. It sounds like trying to choice a women that could make a wife, damn near impossible. But I don't know, I'm kind of a romantic I whissle at every horse as if it were a dog, and sometimes a horse will aknownledge me with a glance of eye contact. I found the perfect horse at the paddock this one time, when I was whissling the horse looked me in the eye but it was not a glance it was a moments of eye contact, I fell in love with the horse and in unison we both knodded our heads at each other.
With the smell of American brewed beer, filtered cigerattes and horse shit all part of the eroma it was time to chose my fast horse. My choice was of course the horse I had had the moment with, it was the four horse in a race of twelve but regardless of the number there was nothing I needed to see past old mr. four. So I put my twenty dollars down and rooted for the best. Two minutes after the guns shot fired my four came in tenth out of twelve. Then after the race it shat, damn I wish there was rematches in horse facing, I bet my uncle's advise would be right, fuck what a hick hobby. But I bet I will win next time, just vote for the last horse to shit, I throw fifty on it!

Grant Patrizio reviews New Super Mario Bros Wii...what, you were expecting a rant, or something?

Surprise! Fooled you, didn't I? I figured I'd give the rants a break, and move on to something that only a select handful of people would probably enjoy: A review of New Super Mario Bros. Wii. I played through the game, and, despite the fact that I thoroughly enjoyed it, kept wondering... What exactly is "New" about this game? It's got Mario saving the princess while kicking King Koopa's Colossal Can. It's got power-ups, it's got 8 worlds, it's got boss battles, it's got secret exits... It's difficult for me to see what exactly is "New" about New Super Mario Bros. Wii. Well, we've got new(ish) level designs and location inspirations (a given) and enhanced graphics, but what people expect is a difference in power-ups. While the literal is new in this game, the effects have all been used before. Take Propeller Mario for example:
Now, this suit, with a shake of the Wii remote, allows Mario to fly in the air...Okay, the suit itself is new, but he's had...let's see...4 other, different powerups that gave him the ability to fly? Real original, Nintendo...Real original. Moving on to the next new powerup, Ice Mario.
Fun Fact; Ice Mario is NOT new. It was used before in Super Mario Galaxy. The only things that changed about it are Mario's look and the ability to throw Ice Balls...what else can he do? Pick up the frozen enemies and throw them...that's...it, really. Mario has one more new power-up though, and it makes this one obsolete.

Behold...Penguin Mario! Super Mario Bros. 3's Frog Suit on steroids! In this suit, Mario can walk freely on ice (as opposed to slipping around like an uncoordinated moron), swim with the fishes...er, penguins, and...guess what? SHOOT ICE BALLS. Again, the suit itself is new, but... Two ice related power-ups in one game, Nintendo? One totally outclasses the other, so you should have just made a choice and ditched the Ice Flower. Everyone knows that Penguin Mario is more badass.

So, since the storyline isn't new, the game play style isn't new, the vast amount of levels isn't new, the power-ups aren't new...what IS new? I'll tell you what's new. New Super Mario Bros. Wii comes in a Red Box. I'm not even kidding you.
That's just about the only brand new thing about this game. Everything else may have enhancements or modifications, but still has roots in a past portrayals of the portly plumber's princess procuring pursuits. If you want a brand new Wii game for your holiday gaming needs, get this one. It's red box will stand out among your other Wii titles. As for the game itself...not so new, but still oh so enjoyable.

P.S. I know what you're thinking, and be quiet. I know the last picture is backwards, shut up.

Caroline Klink's vibrator vs. Optimus Prime: Which robot pleases me more?

So my friend, Jeremy, and I were discussing shitty movies the other day and the conversation inevitably turned toward Twilight. From there, we somehow got stuck between Twilight and Transformers. His argument was that the Twilight series is to girls and women what Michael Bay and Roland Emmerich films are to boys and men. Both pander to the juvenile fantasies of their respective genders with little to no regard for the craft of storytelling, to which I replied, "Spot on, sir".

And he was absolutely right, wasn't he? There are only two real differences between these two films, the first being that Transformers is completely lacking in what Twilight was all about: a fucking sexy male lead. Let's face it: in a contest to see who is in more pubescent teenage girls' fantasies, Robert Pattinson would defeat Shia Lebeouf in a crushing victory (while being cheered on by the entire awkward, pimple-covered, bracefaced, and sexually curious 13-year-old demographic to which he appeals so fervently). Shia Labeouf, though attractive, pales in comparison to a guy with pasty skin, fangs, and an eight pack, shameful though it may be.





Very seductive vs. incredibly awkward




(Personally, I think Robert Pattinson looks like the bastard crack baby of Quentin Tarantino.... Does anybody else get that vibe? Think about it)







Ironically, the opposite of this conundrum of hotness is true with the supporting female actresses of these movies. While Kristen Steward is pleasant to look at, and evidently hot enough to fuck Edward Cullen, who would YOU rather get down with, reader? The star of Twilight? Or Megan Fox, Shia's main squeeze in Transformers? (And I say that with every emphasis on the word "squeeze" imaginable)




Okay, stop beating off on Megan Fox's face and let's continue.


The truth is that, no matter which one you think is hotter, all four of these over-advertised puppets are narcissistic hacks who all think they are God's gift to the stage. And their movies, though mildly entertaining, are all garbage. I don't think one of these people have ever been in a movie that had a deeper purpose than to make people believe that high school is actually this interesting, or to CGI blowing shit up, or transforming people to wolves or trucks to robots. It's actually kinda painful to know that these films were successful.






And if you want to know the truth, I'd rather fuck Optimus Prime, but that's just me.

Thankgiving

Joseph Scalise's Blog, Monday November 23rd, 5:03 P.M
Ah, writing the blog the day before its due, in some cases I’m far ahead of the curve, and in some cases I am behind. Anyway, my point in this blog is that time of year we all love, the Holiday Season. And yes, I know people call it “The Holiday Season” because it sounds better that winter, which, in today’s culture, translates to, its really fucking cold outside. But I like The Holiday Season, so I’m sticking with it. So, what I wanted to talk about specifically is Thanksgiving (stuff your face with as many fat saturated sugary foods as possible day), which is my second favorite holiday only to Christmas (ohmygodohmygodgivemepresentsgivemepresentsfucktherepressionsIwantpresents!!!day)Now, even more specifically that Thanksgiving, what I really have been wondering about is pies. You know? Everybody likes pies. Actually, that’s not true, Hitler, Stalin, Walt Disney, Ty Cobbe and serial killers don’t like pie, but the rest of us in normal land do. But I gotta say I have been wondering, why are the flavors of pie so limited? Like wouldn’t anything taste good if turned into a sugary, pasty filling, and then covered in a crisp, flakey crust? Honestly, pies are mostly fruit, in some cases chocolate, but why not makes pies out of other things? You could go places with this idea, and most definitely make a lot of money. Think about it, you could make caramel pies, almond pies, snicker pies, snicker doodle pies, pot sticker pies and egg pies for breakfast, steak and potato pies for dinner, they would all taste good! And the best part, the best part is the amount of money that would go into the economy. Oh yeah! Because if pies were to become this big you know, you know people are gonna want their name out their. Think of it, sponsors for pies. The limited addition “Michael Jordan Chocolate Pie”, The “Pamela Anderson Cream Pie”, “Jessica Alba cherry pie shaped like her ass!” This could go far, look into it, and trust me, there is a living to be made.

Bullspit pt. 2: The Epic of Chris Money by Julian Burg

Alright, I’ve told this story like 100 times now, so I’m just gonna commit it to paper and then I don’t have to say it again.
About a month ago, I went out on my porch for maybe 10 seconds to get some dirt out of my shoes when this guy across the street yells, “ey man. Ey! Can I get like 75 cents? Please? It’s for the bus, I really need it.” And I was like shit, I guess I got a pile of change on my nightstand that I don’t give a shit about. “For sure man I got you.” (sidenote: I gave a homeless guy some change the day before that. I’m like a fucking philanthropist.) –And p.s. to give you an idea of what he looks like (not him but close):

So I come back, and the first words out his mouth are, “ey man, I’m sorry, I was lyin. I’m tryin to get a blunt though, you smoke?”
*pause*
“uuuuuh. Yeah”
“well you wanna blaze? Like I got some nugs, you don’t have to throw down, but you buy the blunt, and we’ll smoke?”
(I can’t say no to a bargain.)
“uh, okay. Sure.”
“ok cool. But um, it’s a dollar for the blunt, not 75 cents. So I need another quarter.”
Really? If you’re gonna beg/lie you may as well ask for the right amount. This was the first little point where I went “god damn this dude is weird.”
So anyway, he comes in, we twist one and get to talking. He mentions being from Oakland or something so I’m like, “alright cut the shit. You rap or what?” He looks at me all seriously like, “hell yeah man, I can spit bars. People always tell me like ‘oh Chris you’re so good at rapping, you should be a rapper.’”
He goes by Chris Money.
So I’ve been making hip hop beats for fun for a while and have a bootleg “studio” in my room. I get him in there and we record a 4 track EP. Then I lied to him a bunch. The basic rundown of our conversation is: I’m a tweaker, my housemate’s a tweaker, we were both tweaking at the time, I had some crystal he might be able to buy, and a girl was coming over that, while I couldn’t make any promises, I’d ask if we could run a train on. He was pretty hyped on that one. But as much as I made some shit up, you gotta understand most of it came from him asking ridiculous questions and me just being like, “yes.” He’d say shit like, “ey, man, ey. You all buzzin’ and shit right now? Like a raccoon? (raccoon is his slang for crackhead) You itchin?” I’d casually look at him like, “yep.” Pretty subdued. Clearly not on meth. Maybe throw in a calm neck scratch here and there and he’d crack up to himself.
But anyways, peep the goods. The music is okay, but the lyrics are deep, cerebral, and life-changing. This guy is a real wordsmith. Some themes you may notice in the flows: Chris gets money, he goes far, he gets cheddar, he’s in a castle, and he comes out of places. Tell your friends that you knew about him before he totally blew up.
Colours2 ft. Chris Money by julian7114
Mbira Spirit ft. Chris Money by julian7114
AndyW-LoveIsBlue ft. Chris by julian7114
Gladys-IfIWere ft. Chris by julian7114
Epilogue: Chris wanted to come over the next day and I thought, “oooooo …nah.” So I gave him my phone number and told him NOT to come over without calling me. The next morning I awoke to my phone ringing and about 8 missed calls. All Chris Money. I was kinda pissed and told him that he can’t call me that early and he can’t come over. Then, he came knocking at the door unannounced after dark a few times, once at like 12:30pm. We had to tell him that he can’t come back, ever. So, moral of the story: even though you can get a lot of mileage out of the story and fulfill homework requirements, it’s probably a better idea to not invite Chris Money into your home and tell him that you have crystal and girls he can run trains on. I’m sincerely learning from my mistakes.

Download them here: http://www.mediafire.com/?o5umkomhmgi
And blow off your assignments by checking these instead (cheers for shameless self-promotion!):
www.wediditcollective.com
www.myspace.com/djjuj
*Reeeeaallly really long, I know. Sorry.