Blog #2 Devin Liu

When I first got here, I heard Santa Cruz was a beautiful city. Now I know it is only beautiful when you are thizzin, high, or drunk. The other day I went into downtown, supposedly one of the nicest neighborhoods in Santa Cruz. I swear, there is at least one crackhead every block. My and 3 of my guy friends, a sausage feast went downtown. The first block we saw a hippy try to hit on a girl. The hippy was like hey girl, come here, I got something to talk to you about. She responded what do you want to talk about, trees? sarcastically. Then this hippy responds I wanna talk about whales … I was thinking WTF?! Then we make a stop at Pizza my Heart where it is 5 dollars for a T-Shirt and Pizza. A hobo outside is begging for T-Shirts, not the Pizza. I guess hobos in Santa Cruz like to eat cotton instead of food. Then on the third block we saw this old man at a café, hes maybe 60 and he sees two young college girls. He takes off his pedophile glasses and says “DAMN do I see two ..?” All of us assumed that he was going to say “DAMN do I see two fine ass girls?” We reacted again like WTF when he said “DAMN do I see two Einstein’s in disguise?” I don’t know if it is me, but Santa Cruz is really weird. I barely see any gay guys. Im from San Francisco so im really use to a gay community but only Doug Holsclaw is one of the only gay guys I know here. Maybe I am weird in the eyes of the crackheads, but damn, what the fuck am I doing here?!

Patrick Webster Blog #2: "Future Marine Biology Grad Reconsidering Career Paid In Cute Stories, Endearing Moments"

Santa Cruz, CA - Patrick Webster, a junior studying Marine Biology at the University of California Santa Cruz, suddenly had a change of heart this Tuesday about pursuing his life-long passion of the ocean. Upon review of his monthly payments in the form of cute stories, funny anecdotes, and endearing moments, Mr. Webster realized that the feeling in his gut was not personal fulfillment, but hunger. "I'm cold, I'm wet, I smell terrible" said the exhausted student between applying for several unpaid internships, "It's everything that I was promised, but worse."

While he claims that he enjoys telling people about “that one time the baby otter sneezed,” turning lifelong memories and heart-warming experiences into currency has proven difficult. Constantly preparing restaurant quality seafood and cleaning its digested remains, Mr. Webster said he can’t help but feel that the animals are getting the last laugh. “They’ve seen the look of sadness in his eyes as he tosses them the food” said a fellow volunteer. “I know they’re mocking me,” Mr. Webster states, “Having a tuna sandwich is the only source of empowerment I have left.”

Though his week is split between a student job, volunteer and docent positions at the campus’ Long Marine Lab and the Monterey Bay Aquarium, SCUBA classes, challenging courses, and basic metabolic function, Mr. Webster is continually selling himself short for work experience. “Sure, I’m busy, but it’s all about who you know at the end of the day” he explains, downtrodden and teary-eyed, “If that means I know more about my professors’ office layout than how to interact with other human beings, so be it, right?”

Sources close to the undergrad have confirmed that Mr. Webster’s personal life may have begun to suffer from his choice of major. “He’s OK to be around when he’s not studying,” said one of his two female friends, “but the other day he skipped out on a party to crawl in animal crap for hours to have more ‘field experience’.” An exasperated roommate added: “I swear he thinks that his Behavioral Ecology class is relationship advice.”

When questioned about his love life since starting college, Mr. Webster became visibly agitated. “All the girls that I meet think my job is cuter than I am,” he says, “I’ve been a student of evolutionary theory my whole life, but now I have a sinking feeling I’m being naturally selected.”

“Being free labor at the whim of graduate students seemed like such a necessary step. Now I feel used. Marine inverts don’t have a spine, but no one tells you they don’t have a soul” he says, visibly frustrated. "I know I'm getting a B.S., but I feel like that's all it has been."

Blog #2 - Well, at least I'm not wearing a tacky Gap sweater

So I realized a while ago that I'm mistaken a lot for being gay. I'm not openly gay, or parade a No to Prop 8 shirt or anything like that, but some of the things I do is considered by a lot of people to be 'gay,' which I think is half-ignorant, half-amusing.

Like for example, I LOVE Project Runway! Every time I hear a group of girls talking about that show, I can't help but put in my own 2 cents on some of the contestant's awesome/terrible fashion sense, or how amazing Tim Gunn is. The real reason I love that show is because of the fashion, and for some reason, it's 'gay' if a guy is interested in fashion. But it does make sense, because most butthurt straight "IM NOT A FAGGG DURR" guys usually dress like shit. And it's those kind of guys that scare everyone else to thinking "Oh no, I shouldn't care about how I dress or else people will think I'm gay." And I think this is why a large fraction of the male population's fashion is dictated by Sears. Not even Macy's, fucking Sears.



But then how, in this unfashionable masculine climate, was I able to slip through the cracks and actually give a shit about how I dress? I think it was due to growing up in a house with three other women. But they didn't directly influence the way I dressed, I think it was those Vogue magazines. Whenever I went to the bathroom, there was always a Vogue waiting to be read. So as the years passed by, absorbing the fashion photo shoots and the billions of perfume sample pages while on the crapper, I developed a sense of what looks good and what doesn't. I'm no expert, but I do know a few basic things, like how black pants never go well with brown shoes, or that a simple color coordination can make your outfit twice, if not three times better.

So to all the straight bros out there: It's ok to care about what you dress like. It's ok to use conditioner every once in a while. It's ok to look like you care about your outside appearance. If we all had this mindset, then maybe all those european countries can stop talkin' shit about Americans being ugly.

-James Farmer

Blog Entry #2 - Chris Nuth

I just listened to my last episode of Loveline. No, this is not a porn thing. I didn't take the audio from porn movies and put it in my ipod to listen to on the bus. that would be crazy. No, I am talking about Loveline the radio show. I downloaded 50 gigs of loveline. 1617 hours of it. It took me three years to listen to it all. Now I'm ready for a healthy relationship!

It's Loveline with Adam Carolla and Dr. Drew, and I am now an expert in everything. Want to know the name of a disease? I'm your guy. Argue the merits of Plan B contraception? That's me, mutha fucka. Psychological advice? I already got the couch. I've heard so much misery and pain during those 1078 episodes that my life seemed awesome. But I ran out. I'm fucking out, man. I need that fix. How am I supposed to feel better about myself if I can't listen to stupid teenagers and their stupid problems? I can only watch so much MTV programming. I might have to start going to NA meetings to get my fix of misery. Don't judge me, ok? Just because I listened to 1617 hours of teen angst without dating a high school girl does not mean I'm crazy.

I would listen to Loveline while I tried to go to bed, and it would always give me the best dreams. Mmmmmm....threeway....on an sinking ship...with pirates..... That reminds me of another segway. I love how guys can remember every exact detail of their dreams, but women can't.

MAN - I had a dream last night!
SOME ASSHOLE - What happened?
MAN - HavingsexwithAngelinaJolieonaspaceshipduringagunfight!

but Women...

WOMAN - I had a dream last night.
SOME BITCH - What happened?
WOMAN - I was being chased by a man...without a face! It was so blurry, I don't know what happened!
SOME BITCH - Did you eat a burrito before you went to bed?

Anyway, that's my time. I'm on a public library computer and the homeless person is waiting to lookup porn and masturbate.

Misadventures in Bed

The other night I was in bed with a friend with benefits trying to get to those benefits, while also being careful of making sure the old ass bed frame didn’t creak and crack too much to not bother my housemates. It’s a hard game. Things are getting hot and heavy, and she leans close and says “Baby, get a condom.”, so trying to keep the mood I start kissing my way down. When I get to the end of the bed where I keep my sin stash, I fumble around pipes, bottles, and handcuffs when all of the sudden everything goes wrong. My old ass frame’s pine spine snaps and I plunge to the floor, well half the bed was still up, which propels her to me face first. And just as I turn to her we smash faces. Instantly both noses just start spraying blood like it was a Tarantino movie and the sheets look like the horror movie my life had suddenly become. Well of course I don’t have any napkins in the room, and she’s making a fuss, so I scramble to get my robe on to get to the bathroom. I forget that the bed frame is exposed now, so I trip on it and yell, spraying blood all over one wall. I put my robe on, and run out to find that the bathroom is occupied, and I didn’t want to see my roommate with blood rushing at both ends like that. I run to the kitchen instead, slip on a folded box, and bleed on the floor, grab the roll of paper towels, run back in time to see my housemate’s horrified face, duck into the room and find that my bloody hands have stained the whole roll. We get cleaned up, and because women are fickle, she wasn’t in the mood anymore. The next day I clean the house and I want to find a new place to put my stash, turns out I didn’t even have a condom.

Merlin Jones-Blog #2 (Sorry if it's a bit long... ha)

1st Blog Gary Dominguez New Roomate

So I live on campus at College 8, and I had an awesome roommate who I was really good friends with. Well that was all flushed down the toilet when he got kicked out of housing. Apparently, drinking large quantities of alcohol and smoking lots of weed in the hallways in front of the RA’s room every day is not aloud, who knew.
Well, after having a couple days of freedom in my single, I got a wonderful new roommate, Kevin!!! That’s how my friends and I always referred to him, in a yelling voice. Kevin’s name was never “kevin”, it was always “!!!!!KKEEVVIINN!!!!”, no matter if he was doing homework next to me at 2 AM, or across the dinning hall at lunch.
I didn’t just play jokes on Kevin to be mean, it started when he became an impossible roommate to live with. When I first met Kevin, he greeted me with a low grunt and a barely audible hello. Then, he continued to say that the room was divided by an imaginary line, and that we could not cross the line. I continued to say, “Fuck you KEVIN!!!”. This was just one of the examples I have, and could go on for days, but you get the point.
So needless to say I had to get back at Kevin and fuck with him. One time, Kevin’s parents came to our dorm room to visit I decided it was my chance. I heard a knock on the door, and immediately came up with my brilliant plan on the spot. I stipped but ass naked as Kevin opened the door, walked up to Kevin, kissed him on the cheek, and said “thanks baby for the amazing night.” Needless to say, his very oriental and traditional family was not pleased with him. I also didn’t stay around for the reaction of Kevin.
The rest of the year was a series of pranks and controversies. Much like the disturbed show on MTV. It probably could have been a reality TV show, and an entertaining one at that with all the shit that went down. Tune in to my blogs to here more stories about KKKEEEEVVVIIIINNNN, BG 251 (my room) and myself.