Hello readers!
While I sit in the sunlight, inside because I'm too tired to move my ass outside, I have pondered quite a few topics for today's post. I've decided to turn my focus to karma at this point in our lives. As in, how does karma affect college students?
Note: If you don't believe in karma, one day you will. Trust me. While I jest when shitty things about to even shittier people, sometimes I am even subjected to the will of the universe. It sucks.
What, in our college minds, can incur the wrath of the universe? Stealing a roommate's beer, or left overs from a trip home? Expect to have your goods taken at some point, and don't cry when it does.
What I have experienced more of, though, is the lack of loyalty among friends.
I personally would do anything for my friends, but have I fucked one or two of them over? Sure have, I'll be honest. But you bet your bottom dollar that I have been fucked over just as well along the way, even if it wasn't by the same person. The nice thing though, in college, is that more often than not, the shitty person does get some sort of punishment.
I can look at a friend, who I took the time to get to know, to defend against other friends because of their past, who I have let into my life (which really does take some effort), and somehow they found it in their selfish little heart to lie to me, and to not even pretend to apologize or make up for their actions. What they lied over is of little importance to me, but you can know that it wasn't over the taking of a beer or two from my fridge. The fact still remains though that they lied to me, about something really not that important, but sneaked around, also fucking over some other friends along the way.
I don't even think that it was the lying that got to me, but the lack of effort on their behalf to actually try to continue to be friends with me even after I offered an olive branch. Turns out, they are a selfish bitch. Did I cry over it all? Hardly. Instead, I did rest easy knowing that they are young, and very naive, and I have been here enough years to know it would all come back and bite them in the ass. It always does...hell, I've already seen it happen! They should probably stop while their ahead, really.
While I may come across as bitter about my own personal experiences, I'd like to continue on to disloyalty among groups of friends.
Turns out, they are a lot of fucking whores on this campus, both male and female. Some of you may claim that I'm probably, or most likely, in that grouping, but I have yet to fuck a friend's ex or person of interest, someone that they're "dating" or "exclusively talking to".
So it happens that there are distinguished groups of people who seem to make a hobby out of dating/fucking each others left overs, whether it was following a serious relationship or not. I used to call it inbreeding in high school, where all the popular kids dated each other and no one would say anything, but would keep it pent up inside until a school dance involving one too many drinks would lead to an explosion of testosterone and/or estrogen. Back to college days, I see it happening and it blows my mind still. I see people get passed willingly around from one person to the next, following their best friend or sister/brother.
Watching this sort of back stabbing, more like "front" stabbing, just to fulfill one social or sexual needs, just truly blows my mind. The thing to remember though, is that karma is a bitch. While they all pretend like everything is perfectly fine, their reputation slowly is starting to slip away from them, out of their control, and I can watch comfortably knowing karma does what karma does.
Some people out their may wonder why the bad boy gets the girls, and nice guys finish last, or the person who puts in the least amount of effort gets the best grade or lead role. Have no fear, though it may take time, you will have your day in the sun. I've seen one of the most beloved members of a department slowly through the years become known for what she actually is, a fucking bitch. While I, on the other hand, may not be the favorite, but I have gained good karma my own, and am happier than they probably ever will be.
To end my rambling, I'd like to finish with some wise words." How others treat you is their karma, how you react is yours."
Until next time,
You know what to do. =]
xoxo TO
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Things That Only Happen at Otterbein
Hi kids,
Hope everyone had a great Derby/Cinco de Mayo/supermoon weekend. I know mine was interesting, as apparently at the bar I was shouting "Everyone's Mexican!" Fuck knows, I don't remember. Drinking since noon, watching the Derby, I kind of set myself up for a night of total belligerence.
What I want to talk about now, is a list I have compiled with friends of things that seem to only happen at Otterbein. As much as I was urged to put them in a certain order, honestly, I'm tired and don't give any fucks to do so. So enjoy.
1. Straight twinks. If you don't know what a twink is, stop watching ESPN and take a stroll around Otterbein. Twinks are tiny little gay boys, which actually in my mind is mostly a term of endearment instead of a jest. Straight twinks are boys, that I literally just recently discovered Friday exist, that are two skinny for their damn good and really need to stop being mostly awkward. Haha.
2. This is an obvious one, most of the guys here are questionable as to what their orientation is. Even the ones you are so damn sure are straight. I feel like the girl population is starting to become the same way, as there are more girls here than guys. Gay for the stay I guess.
3. Only at Otterbein would a closed door be more commonly associated with people smoking weed, versus having sex.
4. Only at Otterbein would there still be some sort of force against weed, started by people clearly in denial. We don't call this cesspool pOtterbein for shits and gigs, just saying. So keep your fucking signs to your self and stop wasting trees. Start smoking them.
5. If you find yourself waking up the next morning from a night out of raging, and you still think you shouldn't drive, then welcome a. to my level, and b. to things that I feel really only happen at Otterbein. Yeah, you can drink yourself silly at OSU, but let's get real, we are our own version of OSU.
6. Day drinking at 10 am. I personally fucking love day drinking. 'Nough said.
7. Needing alcohol to do homework. I know more people that crack open a beer or pour a glass of wine before starting papers than people who don't.
8. Smoking a bowl in the McDonald's drive thru with fellow student peers really doesn't seem to phase any of those involved. Only at Otterbein.
9. Missing pink bathtubs (still a what the fuck was the OPD thinking moment) is not really considered out of the ordinary, but a topic of conversation as to who was dumb enough to commit the crime.
10. Taking 6 hits of acid to "see what happens". I mean really, it was 2 pm on a Saturday. It's still a more common response though to say why the fuck I wasn't invited than to be surprised someone it tripping.
11. Having hallucinations in class because you may or may not have done too much hallucinogens in life. And it's only your sophomore year, and shrooms are still on the list of shit to do.
12. Risking personal safety to get Otterden because you're too stoned to consider anything else.
13. Getting high 5'd after sex. For real? I know many people who have fallen victim to the awkward high five, and the desperate search for other shoe in hopes to get the fuck out of there.
14. Sex is like hugs here. Free and everyone does it, without much thought or attachment afterwards.
15. Being more upset at the OPD for letting some masked man leave your house without questions, than discovering your own friend was the culprit and was just going around stealing alcohol with a Nixon mask. Really, it's pretty common to shrug off those shenanigans than to be upset. Only at Otterbein.
16. People coming like ants to a picnic when a box of whip its appear during spring cleaning.
17. Finding a random box of whip its while spring cleaning.
18. The campus police force is more like a group of rent-a-cops who really need to get their priorities straight.
19. The most talented people you know are probably the messiest people you know. Only at Otterbein.
20. Being more concerned that someone might vomit on your shit, versus being concerned that the bitch is passed out. Seriously, they'll be fine.
And finally, my person favorite... 21. Only at Otterbein is there a need to differentiate between cokes. "Hey can you pick me up some coke to do with our whiskey? No, the liquid kind."
I'll probably come up with some more things to add to the list while getting wasted with some friends. Have some more laughs.
Until next time,
Rage on motherfuckers. School's almost over, and it's been a hell of a year.
xoxo
TO
Hope everyone had a great Derby/Cinco de Mayo/supermoon weekend. I know mine was interesting, as apparently at the bar I was shouting "Everyone's Mexican!" Fuck knows, I don't remember. Drinking since noon, watching the Derby, I kind of set myself up for a night of total belligerence.
What I want to talk about now, is a list I have compiled with friends of things that seem to only happen at Otterbein. As much as I was urged to put them in a certain order, honestly, I'm tired and don't give any fucks to do so. So enjoy.
1. Straight twinks. If you don't know what a twink is, stop watching ESPN and take a stroll around Otterbein. Twinks are tiny little gay boys, which actually in my mind is mostly a term of endearment instead of a jest. Straight twinks are boys, that I literally just recently discovered Friday exist, that are two skinny for their damn good and really need to stop being mostly awkward. Haha.
2. This is an obvious one, most of the guys here are questionable as to what their orientation is. Even the ones you are so damn sure are straight. I feel like the girl population is starting to become the same way, as there are more girls here than guys. Gay for the stay I guess.
3. Only at Otterbein would a closed door be more commonly associated with people smoking weed, versus having sex.
4. Only at Otterbein would there still be some sort of force against weed, started by people clearly in denial. We don't call this cesspool pOtterbein for shits and gigs, just saying. So keep your fucking signs to your self and stop wasting trees. Start smoking them.
5. If you find yourself waking up the next morning from a night out of raging, and you still think you shouldn't drive, then welcome a. to my level, and b. to things that I feel really only happen at Otterbein. Yeah, you can drink yourself silly at OSU, but let's get real, we are our own version of OSU.
6. Day drinking at 10 am. I personally fucking love day drinking. 'Nough said.
7. Needing alcohol to do homework. I know more people that crack open a beer or pour a glass of wine before starting papers than people who don't.
8. Smoking a bowl in the McDonald's drive thru with fellow student peers really doesn't seem to phase any of those involved. Only at Otterbein.
9. Missing pink bathtubs (still a what the fuck was the OPD thinking moment) is not really considered out of the ordinary, but a topic of conversation as to who was dumb enough to commit the crime.
10. Taking 6 hits of acid to "see what happens". I mean really, it was 2 pm on a Saturday. It's still a more common response though to say why the fuck I wasn't invited than to be surprised someone it tripping.
11. Having hallucinations in class because you may or may not have done too much hallucinogens in life. And it's only your sophomore year, and shrooms are still on the list of shit to do.
12. Risking personal safety to get Otterden because you're too stoned to consider anything else.
13. Getting high 5'd after sex. For real? I know many people who have fallen victim to the awkward high five, and the desperate search for other shoe in hopes to get the fuck out of there.
14. Sex is like hugs here. Free and everyone does it, without much thought or attachment afterwards.
15. Being more upset at the OPD for letting some masked man leave your house without questions, than discovering your own friend was the culprit and was just going around stealing alcohol with a Nixon mask. Really, it's pretty common to shrug off those shenanigans than to be upset. Only at Otterbein.
16. People coming like ants to a picnic when a box of whip its appear during spring cleaning.
17. Finding a random box of whip its while spring cleaning.
18. The campus police force is more like a group of rent-a-cops who really need to get their priorities straight.
19. The most talented people you know are probably the messiest people you know. Only at Otterbein.
20. Being more concerned that someone might vomit on your shit, versus being concerned that the bitch is passed out. Seriously, they'll be fine.
And finally, my person favorite... 21. Only at Otterbein is there a need to differentiate between cokes. "Hey can you pick me up some coke to do with our whiskey? No, the liquid kind."
I'll probably come up with some more things to add to the list while getting wasted with some friends. Have some more laughs.
Until next time,
Rage on motherfuckers. School's almost over, and it's been a hell of a year.
xoxo
TO
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Catching Up with pOtterbein
Hey bitches!
I must apologize for the world's longest fucking delay posting on here. I'm interning full time at OSU's veterinary hospital and it's been consuming my soul. Literally, if I'm not there I'm sleeping or trying to shove as much alcohol down my throat or put in as many drugs in my system as possible on the weekends.
So to start off, I'd like to comment on this whole YOLO nonsense.
While some might be thinking this is me taking the time to shit talk some sorority bitches, I will say that I wanted to write about the YOLO craze during the Otterbein Bar Crawl (which was a shit show in itself), way before Greek week even rolled around.
Here, I begin. That weekend, I witnessed some of campus' most annoying members pretend to be "party people" and try to get on my usual level. What basic bitches. And on their white shirts, YOLO was drunkenly scrawled on at least three times on every shirt. I've been a witness to those type of people, and how they "party". The bitches wear clothes that are way too clean for the night of vomiting they are about to experience, they drink three beers, then laugh to their girlfriends about how totally "shwasted" they are, then try to jump the bones of at least every baseball player in sight. Oh wait, let's not forget, YOLO! And the guys? Douche bags who I can probably out drink even now, with my much lower tolerance, who think way too much of themselves and their friends, and who will probably only go as far in life as getting some girl knocked up and using the word "bro" far too late in life. Again, I can hear them saying it now, YOLO!
I sat at Jimmy V's for my own night out, laughing at the mess around. The poor workers who were on staff that night, now good friends of mine due to my loyal patronage, looked like they wanted to jump off a cliff.
People who say that annoy the FUCK out of me. Phrase to live by? I like how people just now started using that phrase as an excuse to either a. act like a fuck or b. be wannabe pOtterbeiners. Seriously.
And the fact that some of you made an entire Greek week theme out of it? Cmon. -__-
I just have a general annoyance level with most of Otterbein, and formed from experience. But I digress.
Tomorrow I will have a short blurb about the whole fucking Stay Off the Grass nonsense. I stand behind my opinion that if more people started smoking weed on this campus, we would be a lot better off.
PS Kathy Krendlkins talked to me in person a few weeks ago, during a community service event. I'm not sure she quite knew who I was, and I kept my name tag hidden, as I was pretending to be another person anyways since I had forgotten to sign up. When she walked away, I could barely hold in my laughter, and remembered that the primary concern they had with this blog was that I might threaten the life of Kathy Krendlkins. Hey Krendtits, I did see where you live. Just kidding! Calm down, smoke a bowl. Even God approves of "grass", I mean He did make it rain today!
Stay classy, fuckers!
xoxo TO
I must apologize for the world's longest fucking delay posting on here. I'm interning full time at OSU's veterinary hospital and it's been consuming my soul. Literally, if I'm not there I'm sleeping or trying to shove as much alcohol down my throat or put in as many drugs in my system as possible on the weekends.
So to start off, I'd like to comment on this whole YOLO nonsense.
While some might be thinking this is me taking the time to shit talk some sorority bitches, I will say that I wanted to write about the YOLO craze during the Otterbein Bar Crawl (which was a shit show in itself), way before Greek week even rolled around.
Here, I begin. That weekend, I witnessed some of campus' most annoying members pretend to be "party people" and try to get on my usual level. What basic bitches. And on their white shirts, YOLO was drunkenly scrawled on at least three times on every shirt. I've been a witness to those type of people, and how they "party". The bitches wear clothes that are way too clean for the night of vomiting they are about to experience, they drink three beers, then laugh to their girlfriends about how totally "shwasted" they are, then try to jump the bones of at least every baseball player in sight. Oh wait, let's not forget, YOLO! And the guys? Douche bags who I can probably out drink even now, with my much lower tolerance, who think way too much of themselves and their friends, and who will probably only go as far in life as getting some girl knocked up and using the word "bro" far too late in life. Again, I can hear them saying it now, YOLO!
I sat at Jimmy V's for my own night out, laughing at the mess around. The poor workers who were on staff that night, now good friends of mine due to my loyal patronage, looked like they wanted to jump off a cliff.
People who say that annoy the FUCK out of me. Phrase to live by? I like how people just now started using that phrase as an excuse to either a. act like a fuck or b. be wannabe pOtterbeiners. Seriously.
And the fact that some of you made an entire Greek week theme out of it? Cmon. -__-
I just have a general annoyance level with most of Otterbein, and formed from experience. But I digress.
Tomorrow I will have a short blurb about the whole fucking Stay Off the Grass nonsense. I stand behind my opinion that if more people started smoking weed on this campus, we would be a lot better off.
PS Kathy Krendlkins talked to me in person a few weeks ago, during a community service event. I'm not sure she quite knew who I was, and I kept my name tag hidden, as I was pretending to be another person anyways since I had forgotten to sign up. When she walked away, I could barely hold in my laughter, and remembered that the primary concern they had with this blog was that I might threaten the life of Kathy Krendlkins. Hey Krendtits, I did see where you live. Just kidding! Calm down, smoke a bowl. Even God approves of "grass", I mean He did make it rain today!
Stay classy, fuckers!
xoxo TO
Sunday, March 25, 2012
A Letter to the Graduating Class
Dear seniors,
For those of you who know who you are, and for those who read my blog in appreciation, I would like to take the time to reminisce as well as provide a thank you.
The people I met my freshman year, seniors now or already have gone, they are to blame for who I am now. Freshman year for me was the absolute craziest and best time of my life. My very first weekend, I sat at a party, not knowing a soul except my partner in crime, a fellow freshman who happened to know one person there, and sat around trying to figure the best way to begin to talk to someone while my friend flitted around the party. I sat next to a girl on a bunk bed, who looked older, while another girl sat on the other side of me, leaning on a ladder. Some ridiculous boy was rolling around on the floor, probably on drugs, while another girl sat stoned out of her mind on the couch. The girl sitting next to me introduced herself, along with the rest of the people in the room, and from that moment I knew I found the right place. If I happen to have met anyone else that night, I don't remember, as I shortly blacked out afterwards, and left vomiting when I drank the wrong cup of beer that someone had happened to put their cigarette out in.
While some people come and go out of your life, such as that partner in crime who I now barely ever see or talk to, those people I met in that room have 100% changed my life. Listen readers, it doesn't matter who you hang out with now, or that I may judge you for being such a fucking boring person, if you have surrounded yourself with people who allow you to be you, then God bless.
My memories of freshman year are literally just a blur, with very few moments being clear at all. I met people of pure genius, sitting around a bowl, or handing me a beer from a keg. Some of the most talented people I know are also some of the messiest people I know, emphasis on the mess. Worse than me, if you can believe that. My favorite freshman memories with them include smoking in the park, drinking myself into a total state of annihilation many many times at a very dear and missed apartment, and the winter break I spent in town, with snow on the ground and on a table in front of me.
Now they prepare to enter the real world, I seriously wish them the best. And still think of those who have already left. They allowed me to be me, in all my crazy, especially in my earlier years when they forced me to face myself and my fucked up past. They supported me in every endeavor, and also cussed me out when I happened to be full of shit. They also brought together the rest of my younger friends, those who I would seriously be nothing without.
If you take nothing else out of this blog, take this one lesson, especially you freshman fucks. Open your mind to the rest of Otterbein. Someone you might have judged at one point may become your soul mate. While criticism has come from all sides about my actions and my words in this blog, I couldn't care less because the people in my life, this is a voice for them.
While you may be one of the best sports players, or the best performer, or the most creative writer, or the prettiest bitch on campus wearing a cross necklace around your neck, yeah sure you'll leave this college entering into a bright future and set up career. But then there are those of us next to you. Yes, we may be a little disheveled, a little stoned or hung over, and probably wreaking of the previous nights adventures, we are there next to you, with just as bright a future. The people I know, especially the seniors, they have worked as hard as you, if not harder because of attending class with a hang over, or doing their homework a little too tweaked out or stoned. They have opened their mind to the world of college, and took a chance. Maybe they will continue to smoke weed for the rest of their life, or never touch another drop of alcohol again. That's for the real world to mold. But for you straight edge bastards, go fuck yourself. Pass judgement on me, or my friends? I spent my college years learning, most likely the hard way, who I am and making the best of my years here. That's the difference.
Well, I'm finally feeling a little calmer, and about to settle into a Vicodin slumber. Wish me luck, readers, in the morning I'll put my big person shoes on, and enter into a taste of the real world.
Until next time,
Rage on.
xoxo TO
For those of you who know who you are, and for those who read my blog in appreciation, I would like to take the time to reminisce as well as provide a thank you.
The people I met my freshman year, seniors now or already have gone, they are to blame for who I am now. Freshman year for me was the absolute craziest and best time of my life. My very first weekend, I sat at a party, not knowing a soul except my partner in crime, a fellow freshman who happened to know one person there, and sat around trying to figure the best way to begin to talk to someone while my friend flitted around the party. I sat next to a girl on a bunk bed, who looked older, while another girl sat on the other side of me, leaning on a ladder. Some ridiculous boy was rolling around on the floor, probably on drugs, while another girl sat stoned out of her mind on the couch. The girl sitting next to me introduced herself, along with the rest of the people in the room, and from that moment I knew I found the right place. If I happen to have met anyone else that night, I don't remember, as I shortly blacked out afterwards, and left vomiting when I drank the wrong cup of beer that someone had happened to put their cigarette out in.
While some people come and go out of your life, such as that partner in crime who I now barely ever see or talk to, those people I met in that room have 100% changed my life. Listen readers, it doesn't matter who you hang out with now, or that I may judge you for being such a fucking boring person, if you have surrounded yourself with people who allow you to be you, then God bless.
My memories of freshman year are literally just a blur, with very few moments being clear at all. I met people of pure genius, sitting around a bowl, or handing me a beer from a keg. Some of the most talented people I know are also some of the messiest people I know, emphasis on the mess. Worse than me, if you can believe that. My favorite freshman memories with them include smoking in the park, drinking myself into a total state of annihilation many many times at a very dear and missed apartment, and the winter break I spent in town, with snow on the ground and on a table in front of me.
Now they prepare to enter the real world, I seriously wish them the best. And still think of those who have already left. They allowed me to be me, in all my crazy, especially in my earlier years when they forced me to face myself and my fucked up past. They supported me in every endeavor, and also cussed me out when I happened to be full of shit. They also brought together the rest of my younger friends, those who I would seriously be nothing without.
If you take nothing else out of this blog, take this one lesson, especially you freshman fucks. Open your mind to the rest of Otterbein. Someone you might have judged at one point may become your soul mate. While criticism has come from all sides about my actions and my words in this blog, I couldn't care less because the people in my life, this is a voice for them.
While you may be one of the best sports players, or the best performer, or the most creative writer, or the prettiest bitch on campus wearing a cross necklace around your neck, yeah sure you'll leave this college entering into a bright future and set up career. But then there are those of us next to you. Yes, we may be a little disheveled, a little stoned or hung over, and probably wreaking of the previous nights adventures, we are there next to you, with just as bright a future. The people I know, especially the seniors, they have worked as hard as you, if not harder because of attending class with a hang over, or doing their homework a little too tweaked out or stoned. They have opened their mind to the world of college, and took a chance. Maybe they will continue to smoke weed for the rest of their life, or never touch another drop of alcohol again. That's for the real world to mold. But for you straight edge bastards, go fuck yourself. Pass judgement on me, or my friends? I spent my college years learning, most likely the hard way, who I am and making the best of my years here. That's the difference.
Well, I'm finally feeling a little calmer, and about to settle into a Vicodin slumber. Wish me luck, readers, in the morning I'll put my big person shoes on, and enter into a taste of the real world.
Until next time,
Rage on.
xoxo TO
Thursday, March 22, 2012
" The most unkindest cut of all," Julius Caeser
Good evening pOtterbein.
Isn't it insane to have this weather in March? Loving. It. And what day is it? Yes, kids, it's Thursday! Time to step off your high horse, get down from your ivory tower, and rage your face off.
While I get ready to shower, and the storm rolls in, I've decided to focus on a more somber topic for today's discussion. The act of betrayal. Now, some of you who know who I am might begin to get nervous, think I will put you on blast. No fear, the fact that you may have such suspicions means you're a guilty fuck, so man up. I don't need to tell you that.
Betrayal, in college, goes far beyond stealing roommate's food, or telling someone's dirty secret. Hey, rule of thumb, secrets secrets are no fun, unless you tell everyone! And this is Otterbein High, and no I don't mean high as a kite (for you stoners reading this). High as in high school. If you don't want something getting out, then either a. don't fucking do something dumb, or b. don't tell anyone. Chances are though, while you sit and contemplate this simple advice, people already know.
To continue, betrayal does go beyond such acts. I have mentioned before, in my blog about stealing, your friends here at college are your family. Or at least, for me and my friends that's how it seems to work. You leave high school, and come to a place to find out who you are. Your roommate, fellow teammates, and for those of you, your pledge brothers and sisters, they truly become your family. I am a different person than who I was in high school, I have become who I was meant to be, and I am more than happy because of the help from my friends.
When you betray a friend in college, I pray for your soul. I truly cannot wrap my mind around someone who can do something treacherous, and look a friend in the eye, and sometimes not even ask for forgiveness. I think I have decided though, that loyalty comes with age. I can look around my friend group, and at others, and could say that I don't know who would truly fuck someone over knowing they would ruin their friendship, or break their friend's heart, or get their friend arrested even.
Taking a look at the younger classes, the freshman and sophomores, where their loyalty lies is up for grabs. I mean not to generalize, and I applaud those of you like myself, who pride themselves on their loyalty and honesty. I am talking more so from experiences I have heard and witnessed among friends.
Sleeping with someone's ex...not okay. Lying to a friend who has just welcomed you into their world...not okay. Ratting your roommate out or a friend out to the OPD or WPD in hopes to save your own ass...not okay. Would you do such things to a family member? Probably not. So why would you do something to a friend, or a roommate? Your parents aren't here to save you, your family isn't here to make you feel better about yourself. Your college friends are the ones you will forever remember, they help you stumble and fumble until you look up to find yourself.
In my own experience, I have gotten into many fights with friends, but most of them were based on the fact that they were calling me out on my bullshit, forcing me to look at myself and my actions. I'm assuming, readers, that your friends do the same. I'd hope to, at least. I'd hope the people you surround yourself with aren't letting you fuck up without telling you "I told you so." As much as we hate hearing it, someone did tell us so. So start listening.
You younger readers though, you haven't put in the hours here at college to truly learn such a meaning. Yeah, sure pledging might have helped some of you out, for those of you reading from Greek Life. And for those laughing saying they would never do such a thing, hurt a friend, you probably already have.
I was accused of ratting a friend out to the OPD or WPD, I don't even fully know the story of what "I" did. It truly hurt my feelings to be accused of such, because that stupid young fucker 1. thought too much of themself being a part of my life and 2. doesn't understand all the things I've gone through here, that many of us have gone through.
Yes, the longer you stay here, everything turns into shades of gray, but there is one thing that should never be wavered on, and that's loyalty to your friends, and to yourself. No matter what you do with your days, whether they are spent raging or studying, I hope you can still sleep comfortably at night, knowing you did what you thought was right.
Alright, I'm getting off my soap box. I was just giving you some food for thought.
Enjoy your Thursday, pOtterbein! I know I personally have a bottle of liquor with my name on it waiting for me.
xoxo TO
Isn't it insane to have this weather in March? Loving. It. And what day is it? Yes, kids, it's Thursday! Time to step off your high horse, get down from your ivory tower, and rage your face off.
While I get ready to shower, and the storm rolls in, I've decided to focus on a more somber topic for today's discussion. The act of betrayal. Now, some of you who know who I am might begin to get nervous, think I will put you on blast. No fear, the fact that you may have such suspicions means you're a guilty fuck, so man up. I don't need to tell you that.
Betrayal, in college, goes far beyond stealing roommate's food, or telling someone's dirty secret. Hey, rule of thumb, secrets secrets are no fun, unless you tell everyone! And this is Otterbein High, and no I don't mean high as a kite (for you stoners reading this). High as in high school. If you don't want something getting out, then either a. don't fucking do something dumb, or b. don't tell anyone. Chances are though, while you sit and contemplate this simple advice, people already know.
To continue, betrayal does go beyond such acts. I have mentioned before, in my blog about stealing, your friends here at college are your family. Or at least, for me and my friends that's how it seems to work. You leave high school, and come to a place to find out who you are. Your roommate, fellow teammates, and for those of you, your pledge brothers and sisters, they truly become your family. I am a different person than who I was in high school, I have become who I was meant to be, and I am more than happy because of the help from my friends.
When you betray a friend in college, I pray for your soul. I truly cannot wrap my mind around someone who can do something treacherous, and look a friend in the eye, and sometimes not even ask for forgiveness. I think I have decided though, that loyalty comes with age. I can look around my friend group, and at others, and could say that I don't know who would truly fuck someone over knowing they would ruin their friendship, or break their friend's heart, or get their friend arrested even.
Taking a look at the younger classes, the freshman and sophomores, where their loyalty lies is up for grabs. I mean not to generalize, and I applaud those of you like myself, who pride themselves on their loyalty and honesty. I am talking more so from experiences I have heard and witnessed among friends.
Sleeping with someone's ex...not okay. Lying to a friend who has just welcomed you into their world...not okay. Ratting your roommate out or a friend out to the OPD or WPD in hopes to save your own ass...not okay. Would you do such things to a family member? Probably not. So why would you do something to a friend, or a roommate? Your parents aren't here to save you, your family isn't here to make you feel better about yourself. Your college friends are the ones you will forever remember, they help you stumble and fumble until you look up to find yourself.
In my own experience, I have gotten into many fights with friends, but most of them were based on the fact that they were calling me out on my bullshit, forcing me to look at myself and my actions. I'm assuming, readers, that your friends do the same. I'd hope to, at least. I'd hope the people you surround yourself with aren't letting you fuck up without telling you "I told you so." As much as we hate hearing it, someone did tell us so. So start listening.
You younger readers though, you haven't put in the hours here at college to truly learn such a meaning. Yeah, sure pledging might have helped some of you out, for those of you reading from Greek Life. And for those laughing saying they would never do such a thing, hurt a friend, you probably already have.
I was accused of ratting a friend out to the OPD or WPD, I don't even fully know the story of what "I" did. It truly hurt my feelings to be accused of such, because that stupid young fucker 1. thought too much of themself being a part of my life and 2. doesn't understand all the things I've gone through here, that many of us have gone through.
Yes, the longer you stay here, everything turns into shades of gray, but there is one thing that should never be wavered on, and that's loyalty to your friends, and to yourself. No matter what you do with your days, whether they are spent raging or studying, I hope you can still sleep comfortably at night, knowing you did what you thought was right.
Alright, I'm getting off my soap box. I was just giving you some food for thought.
Enjoy your Thursday, pOtterbein! I know I personally have a bottle of liquor with my name on it waiting for me.
xoxo TO
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Welcome Back Bitches.
Hey pOtterbein!
I'm back, don't worry. I didn't leave you to succumb to the pressures of the Otterbein administration without a voice.
My Spring Break was spent working, drinking entirely too much during the day, and being the Nancy Botwin of the cocaine world here at Otterbein. It really was a nice break. The last couple days were spent shadowing at possible internship for the summer.
Enough of my boring ass life, let's get to it. Today's blog will be discussing a lot of the talk going on about this blog.
First off, as to be expected, I'd like to address the article in the T & C. I loved it. While she missed the point of this blog for the most part, I'd like to thank them for the plug. While yes, I probably share too much, but it's part of my experience here. As for my reputation? I really could care less what you all think, especially the bitches that sit around shit talking my blog on Sunday, and for those of you, on Monday nights. Y'all should probably smoke more weed than you already do, and stop being treacherous hoes.
Honestly, I'm different than who you think I am. I laugh at people who say I need to respect myself, or that I'm a hot mess. While yes, I probably could be considered a hot mess, I also am a part of the counterculture. Like I've said many many many times, that consists of those who can rage, while also being successful. I start a full time internship for ten weeks starting Monday. Maybe I'll be hungover when I go in Friday mornings, but at least I will still be there, doing what I love. I'm sorry if you can't do the same, that's just a shame. Jealous of the many others who do just the same. Those who go to rehearsal or practice stoned, class hungover. They get decent grades, fulfill their responsibilities. I'm not the only one out there, so go ahead and shit talk. You'd probably a offend a friend or two of yours, so get the fuck off you're high horse.
While my version of community service may happen to be "dictated by Westerville Mayor's court" - Ke$ha, I do have ambitions for myself, and support the dreams of my friends, and it's a shame you spend so much time focusing on hating on me or my blog, when you really should be out in this world, taking advantage of every opportunity to be alive. Listen, you don't have to read this blog, so fuck yourself and move on to something else, like practicing for a recital.
My next group to focus on is the OPD. I had a lovely conversation with you today. It was hard not to laugh at some of your questions about my blog. A major concern was that I might actually hurt Kathy Krendlkins. Don't worry, I'm not a malicious person, just an orphan of the American dream, bitter and jaded and needing someone to take my issues out on, with a bottle of liquor in tow.
I personally think people need to calm down. Krendlkins, smoke a bowl, or have a beer, or something. OPD, stop thinking you're our pseudo-parents. Otterbein needs to remember we pay them, $30 k or so a year. So let us make mistakes, ruffle some community feathers, and be the youth we should be. And for my fellow students who are disgusted by my actions, stop spending time in your dorm studying and masturbating to images of Justin Bieber and Megan Fox.Go out, get wasted, and get laid. At least try it once, before you decide to pray for my soul, or judge others.
Honestly, Bob Marley got it right. Even you OCF fuckers can agree,
"Give thanks and praise to the Lord...and I will feel alright. Let's get together and feel alright." with a joint in hand.
xoxo TO
I'm back, don't worry. I didn't leave you to succumb to the pressures of the Otterbein administration without a voice.
My Spring Break was spent working, drinking entirely too much during the day, and being the Nancy Botwin of the cocaine world here at Otterbein. It really was a nice break. The last couple days were spent shadowing at possible internship for the summer.
Enough of my boring ass life, let's get to it. Today's blog will be discussing a lot of the talk going on about this blog.
First off, as to be expected, I'd like to address the article in the T & C. I loved it. While she missed the point of this blog for the most part, I'd like to thank them for the plug. While yes, I probably share too much, but it's part of my experience here. As for my reputation? I really could care less what you all think, especially the bitches that sit around shit talking my blog on Sunday, and for those of you, on Monday nights. Y'all should probably smoke more weed than you already do, and stop being treacherous hoes.
Honestly, I'm different than who you think I am. I laugh at people who say I need to respect myself, or that I'm a hot mess. While yes, I probably could be considered a hot mess, I also am a part of the counterculture. Like I've said many many many times, that consists of those who can rage, while also being successful. I start a full time internship for ten weeks starting Monday. Maybe I'll be hungover when I go in Friday mornings, but at least I will still be there, doing what I love. I'm sorry if you can't do the same, that's just a shame. Jealous of the many others who do just the same. Those who go to rehearsal or practice stoned, class hungover. They get decent grades, fulfill their responsibilities. I'm not the only one out there, so go ahead and shit talk. You'd probably a offend a friend or two of yours, so get the fuck off you're high horse.
While my version of community service may happen to be "dictated by Westerville Mayor's court" - Ke$ha, I do have ambitions for myself, and support the dreams of my friends, and it's a shame you spend so much time focusing on hating on me or my blog, when you really should be out in this world, taking advantage of every opportunity to be alive. Listen, you don't have to read this blog, so fuck yourself and move on to something else, like practicing for a recital.
My next group to focus on is the OPD. I had a lovely conversation with you today. It was hard not to laugh at some of your questions about my blog. A major concern was that I might actually hurt Kathy Krendlkins. Don't worry, I'm not a malicious person, just an orphan of the American dream, bitter and jaded and needing someone to take my issues out on, with a bottle of liquor in tow.
I personally think people need to calm down. Krendlkins, smoke a bowl, or have a beer, or something. OPD, stop thinking you're our pseudo-parents. Otterbein needs to remember we pay them, $30 k or so a year. So let us make mistakes, ruffle some community feathers, and be the youth we should be. And for my fellow students who are disgusted by my actions, stop spending time in your dorm studying and masturbating to images of Justin Bieber and Megan Fox.Go out, get wasted, and get laid. At least try it once, before you decide to pray for my soul, or judge others.
Honestly, Bob Marley got it right. Even you OCF fuckers can agree,
"Give thanks and praise to the Lord...and I will feel alright. Let's get together and feel alright." with a joint in hand.
xoxo TO
Friday, March 9, 2012
Spring Break
Hey readers!
Well, it's time for spring break. I wish everyone happy raging. Drink some tall ones for me!
I'll be here, working. Yeah great. Check back once spring break ends, I'll start posting again once we get back to classes.
Even better, some of you should post some stories on here, if you happen to have an epic adventure or two! I'd love to live vicariously through you all, readers. Unless you're the boring reader. I don't give a fuck if you just went home and visited family.
Until next time,
Rage on motherfuckers! Whoooooo spring break!
xoxo TO
PS. You guys should listen to this song. It may or may not be one of the best depictions of my feelings towards the police. Plus, I love the singer.
Cory Smith, "Fuck the Po-Po"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTT68LeoR7E
Well, it's time for spring break. I wish everyone happy raging. Drink some tall ones for me!
I'll be here, working. Yeah great. Check back once spring break ends, I'll start posting again once we get back to classes.
Even better, some of you should post some stories on here, if you happen to have an epic adventure or two! I'd love to live vicariously through you all, readers. Unless you're the boring reader. I don't give a fuck if you just went home and visited family.
Until next time,
Rage on motherfuckers! Whoooooo spring break!
xoxo TO
PS. You guys should listen to this song. It may or may not be one of the best depictions of my feelings towards the police. Plus, I love the singer.
Cory Smith, "Fuck the Po-Po"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTT68LeoR7E
Thursday, March 8, 2012
The Art of Not Giving a Fuck
What did I tell you, readers? Boom, rain! Typical Ohio. So much for frisbee in the Quad.
I've been wanting to write this blog post for some time now. I have heard many things on this campus about this blog, and I would like to address them.
I would like to start out by saying you do not know who I am. But you do know who I represent. I do not represent an organization, a sorority, a fraternity, a clique, anything. I represent a state of being, a state of mind. The state of mind of not giving a single fuck, and living as fully as one desires.
While yes, I enjoy many an extracurricular drug or drink, that is what I desire. I stay up late, sleep in, and stumble to class along side many of you. You don't have to drink or do drugs to be part of the counterculture. You just have to be a person who doesn't care what society thinks of their actions. You do what you want, experience what you want, and go through life with an open mind.
If you think I am giving Otterbein a bad name, Greek life a bad name, even our generation a bad name, guess what? I don't care. I am one of millions. You can hide in your dorm or houses and pretend I don't exist, or at minimum want me arrested. Should that happen, there will be yet another to step in my place.
Readers, you need to stop caring what people think. Stop listening to others criticisms and stop living in other people's realities. Yes there is an art to it. Take everything with a grain of salt. I sit in class with some of you, listen to your harsh words or shouts of praise, and take it all in stride.
I am happy here at Otterbein. I have found people who think with an open heart and open mind. We are just overshadowed by the image that Otterbein tries to force upon the world. There are so many here, just like me, who have come and gone too, who thrive just like I do.
I live life, we live life, with an open mind. Life is too short to not try something because of a social stigma, too short to not have a bowl before class, or a beer after. And even if that isn't your thing, it should be because you do what you want, not what you've been told or been molded to do.
Break out of your mold! Your parents aren't here any more to scold you, and the OPD and the Krendlbots are just few of the many that will come your way and force you to be a conservative, quiet member of society.
I am not. I'm sorry if some of you disagree with my thoughts, and it's just a shame. But whether you think I should go away or get arrested, look around you. In your classes, your organizations, your friends, I am there. People like me who would like to squeeze life for everything it has, just like Otterbein squeezes us for every dollar we have. You can bitch all you want, and my reply will always be:
I've been wanting to write this blog post for some time now. I have heard many things on this campus about this blog, and I would like to address them.
I would like to start out by saying you do not know who I am. But you do know who I represent. I do not represent an organization, a sorority, a fraternity, a clique, anything. I represent a state of being, a state of mind. The state of mind of not giving a single fuck, and living as fully as one desires.
While yes, I enjoy many an extracurricular drug or drink, that is what I desire. I stay up late, sleep in, and stumble to class along side many of you. You don't have to drink or do drugs to be part of the counterculture. You just have to be a person who doesn't care what society thinks of their actions. You do what you want, experience what you want, and go through life with an open mind.
If you think I am giving Otterbein a bad name, Greek life a bad name, even our generation a bad name, guess what? I don't care. I am one of millions. You can hide in your dorm or houses and pretend I don't exist, or at minimum want me arrested. Should that happen, there will be yet another to step in my place.
Readers, you need to stop caring what people think. Stop listening to others criticisms and stop living in other people's realities. Yes there is an art to it. Take everything with a grain of salt. I sit in class with some of you, listen to your harsh words or shouts of praise, and take it all in stride.
I am happy here at Otterbein. I have found people who think with an open heart and open mind. We are just overshadowed by the image that Otterbein tries to force upon the world. There are so many here, just like me, who have come and gone too, who thrive just like I do.
I live life, we live life, with an open mind. Life is too short to not try something because of a social stigma, too short to not have a bowl before class, or a beer after. And even if that isn't your thing, it should be because you do what you want, not what you've been told or been molded to do.
Break out of your mold! Your parents aren't here any more to scold you, and the OPD and the Krendlbots are just few of the many that will come your way and force you to be a conservative, quiet member of society.
I am not. I'm sorry if some of you disagree with my thoughts, and it's just a shame. But whether you think I should go away or get arrested, look around you. In your classes, your organizations, your friends, I am there. People like me who would like to squeeze life for everything it has, just like Otterbein squeezes us for every dollar we have. You can bitch all you want, and my reply will always be:
I don't give a fuck.
So until next time,
Rage on motherfuckers!
xoxo TO
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
A Very Unopen Discussion Of Alcohol
Salutations readers! Or really, 'sup? bitches.
The weather outside is glorious. For those of you who have not been here for springtime at pOtterbein, it's probably one of the best times of the school year. The Quad becomes active again, Greek Week (enough said), and spring sports are the best to watch and support the players. Patios open up again at the bars, and parks become a great place to smoke a bowl and enjoy lounging on blankets in the grass. Can you tell I'm excited?
Today's discussion is in reference to the discussion of alcohol, the campaign going around campus. While putting a focus on drinking at Otterbein isn't the worst of ideas, clearly it's one of the reasons this blog started, let's get Real! here.
The people who do drink on this campus, I doubt would go to this "discussion". Being backed by the OPD and staff, who really is going to go to this discussion and be honest about the use of alcohol and other extracurricular activities? Yeah. Knowing Otterbein's determination to crack down on drinking, you'd basically be drawing attention to yourself, and if you're underaged? Don't be a dumb fuck.
The type of people who would go to this discussion are probably the type who wouldn't dare touch a drink, or most likely are just hypocrites, including some of those who are hosting the discussion. How productive could this possibly be?
I personally have yet to attend a discussion about drinking that doesn't involve someone standing at a podium with their main points of their argument being sex, drugs, and of course, alcohol will be the downfall of you as a productive person of society. It's just simply annoying, and I have very little time for neo-Prohibitionists to shove their theories down my throat. I'd rather have a PBR going down my throat than that shit.
What some of you might not know, is for many years there have been rumors about the OPD keeping a list, or having thorough knowledge, of the heavy drinkers and drug users and dealers on this campus. If you think you'd be on it, you probably are. Whether this "list" is real or not is up for debate, but it brings about the question of how much the OPD and the rest of campus officials know. And what exactly will be the outcome of these discussions, even ones in the future?
Yes, people have a choice to drink or not drink. I don't really understand why people choose not to, maybe it's because I'm surrounded by people who like to rage and enjoy what this world has to offer, or maybe they just might not have the issues I have.
I just would like to say that I am and will continue to be a productive member of society, contrary to Krendlbots' beliefs. And I think I deserve a drink, and will continue to drink in whatever way I please, and to the extent I desire. Yes, you can do both. I don't care if you think I'm a hot fucking mess, and my friends and acquaintances are too. We don't give a fuck. And that's the difference.
1:1? How about 10:1, why not? (Ps whoever made those posters, is fucking brilliant. I wish I could have thought of that first. The only thing me and my friends thought of is 1:1 One shot every One minute...power hour!)
Enjoy the weather!
And of course, rage on motherfuckers.
xoxo TO
The weather outside is glorious. For those of you who have not been here for springtime at pOtterbein, it's probably one of the best times of the school year. The Quad becomes active again, Greek Week (enough said), and spring sports are the best to watch and support the players. Patios open up again at the bars, and parks become a great place to smoke a bowl and enjoy lounging on blankets in the grass. Can you tell I'm excited?
Today's discussion is in reference to the discussion of alcohol, the campaign going around campus. While putting a focus on drinking at Otterbein isn't the worst of ideas, clearly it's one of the reasons this blog started, let's get Real! here.
The people who do drink on this campus, I doubt would go to this "discussion". Being backed by the OPD and staff, who really is going to go to this discussion and be honest about the use of alcohol and other extracurricular activities? Yeah. Knowing Otterbein's determination to crack down on drinking, you'd basically be drawing attention to yourself, and if you're underaged? Don't be a dumb fuck.
The type of people who would go to this discussion are probably the type who wouldn't dare touch a drink, or most likely are just hypocrites, including some of those who are hosting the discussion. How productive could this possibly be?
I personally have yet to attend a discussion about drinking that doesn't involve someone standing at a podium with their main points of their argument being sex, drugs, and of course, alcohol will be the downfall of you as a productive person of society. It's just simply annoying, and I have very little time for neo-Prohibitionists to shove their theories down my throat. I'd rather have a PBR going down my throat than that shit.
What some of you might not know, is for many years there have been rumors about the OPD keeping a list, or having thorough knowledge, of the heavy drinkers and drug users and dealers on this campus. If you think you'd be on it, you probably are. Whether this "list" is real or not is up for debate, but it brings about the question of how much the OPD and the rest of campus officials know. And what exactly will be the outcome of these discussions, even ones in the future?
Yes, people have a choice to drink or not drink. I don't really understand why people choose not to, maybe it's because I'm surrounded by people who like to rage and enjoy what this world has to offer, or maybe they just might not have the issues I have.
I just would like to say that I am and will continue to be a productive member of society, contrary to Krendlbots' beliefs. And I think I deserve a drink, and will continue to drink in whatever way I please, and to the extent I desire. Yes, you can do both. I don't care if you think I'm a hot fucking mess, and my friends and acquaintances are too. We don't give a fuck. And that's the difference.
1:1? How about 10:1, why not? (Ps whoever made those posters, is fucking brilliant. I wish I could have thought of that first. The only thing me and my friends thought of is 1:1 One shot every One minute...power hour!)
Enjoy the weather!
And of course, rage on motherfuckers.
xoxo TO
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Featuring: Big Daddy Dean Gatti & the Krendlbots!
Today has been such a lovely day on campus. Hopefully it will stay this way for the rest of the week, so pOtterbein will get a nice start to Spring Break. But we all know Ohio's weather is about as bipolar as Mike Stumpf's opinion of Greek Life, so I'd bet it will probably rain or snow or some shit before the weekend.
Well now that the 1:1 campaign has everyone in a tizzy, and we all know my opinion of it, I'd really like to actually focus on one of its loyal supporters, Dean Gatti.
Now everyone knows Dean Bob Gatti, am I right? While many students have a very fond idea of Big Daddy Gatti in their mind, it seems that over the years, and maybe because of the influence of Krendlkins, he has turned into a drone; what I would like to call a Krendlbot.
The Big Daddy I knew would not turn down a student's need for help. I know of many situations with friends where Gatti and his office have been a sort of saving grace for them. As of late though, Gatti seems to have fallen in line with the rest of the Krendlbots, those who want to churn out higher numbers than bring students back.
While many of you may think I am the voice of the scum of campus, I do care about my fellow students. Should one of the OCF members decide they need a drink vs a confessional, I'd love to sit down over a beer. I'm not entirely heartless, for Christ sake! It just has begun to break my heart a little when I see the campus I know and love turn into a one-direction machine. Powered by Krendlbots.
It just seems to me that the office holders have become names to a face, and little else. The face there to smile for photo ops, and push forward their desire for a better university, which really involves squeezing current students for every last dollar, shoving them all into dorms, leaving literally no room for the poor freshman bastards that have decided to attend this place next year, and enforcing the "highly revered" Zero Tolerance policy against the students who could just really use a drink after a long day with dealing with all this bullshit, even if all they can afford is a 40 oz Cobra or a $6.99 bottle of Sutter Home wine.
Dean Gatti seems to have turned from caring about the students to just caring about numbers and the perfect Otterbein image, following many other Krendlbots. In their perfect world, Otterbein is a wholesome place where students study every evening, wake up early every morning, and spend their days with smiles plastered on their faces, wearing button ups and dresses, maybe even skipping to class, and certainly not even a hint of cigarette smoke in the air. Greek Life would consist of Northface jackets and J Crew, and every weekend would consist of community service on Saturday mornings, and church service on Sundays. Pledging would consist of baking cookies and Boy Scouts, or Eagle Scouts, or what the fuck ever. (Now that's an idea! Maybe Dean Gatti and Krendlkins would change their mind about Greek Life after all!)
I personally am here to learn how to be myself, besides just learning shit we are taught in class. I don't regret any mistake I have made, and neither should you readers. I mean truly, if you're meant to be a soccer mom living in Upper Arlington, then fine, move on. But even the future soccer moms deserve a chance to fuck up. We students don't need a faculty board to tell us how to act and who to be, and we certainly don't need to lose the few we had on our side.
Well, that's some tobacco to chew on, so until next time,
Rage on Motherfuckers!
(even if you are getting judged for getting hammered on a weekday)
xoxo TO
Well now that the 1:1 campaign has everyone in a tizzy, and we all know my opinion of it, I'd really like to actually focus on one of its loyal supporters, Dean Gatti.
Now everyone knows Dean Bob Gatti, am I right? While many students have a very fond idea of Big Daddy Gatti in their mind, it seems that over the years, and maybe because of the influence of Krendlkins, he has turned into a drone; what I would like to call a Krendlbot.
The Big Daddy I knew would not turn down a student's need for help. I know of many situations with friends where Gatti and his office have been a sort of saving grace for them. As of late though, Gatti seems to have fallen in line with the rest of the Krendlbots, those who want to churn out higher numbers than bring students back.
While many of you may think I am the voice of the scum of campus, I do care about my fellow students. Should one of the OCF members decide they need a drink vs a confessional, I'd love to sit down over a beer. I'm not entirely heartless, for Christ sake! It just has begun to break my heart a little when I see the campus I know and love turn into a one-direction machine. Powered by Krendlbots.
It just seems to me that the office holders have become names to a face, and little else. The face there to smile for photo ops, and push forward their desire for a better university, which really involves squeezing current students for every last dollar, shoving them all into dorms, leaving literally no room for the poor freshman bastards that have decided to attend this place next year, and enforcing the "highly revered" Zero Tolerance policy against the students who could just really use a drink after a long day with dealing with all this bullshit, even if all they can afford is a 40 oz Cobra or a $6.99 bottle of Sutter Home wine.
Dean Gatti seems to have turned from caring about the students to just caring about numbers and the perfect Otterbein image, following many other Krendlbots. In their perfect world, Otterbein is a wholesome place where students study every evening, wake up early every morning, and spend their days with smiles plastered on their faces, wearing button ups and dresses, maybe even skipping to class, and certainly not even a hint of cigarette smoke in the air. Greek Life would consist of Northface jackets and J Crew, and every weekend would consist of community service on Saturday mornings, and church service on Sundays. Pledging would consist of baking cookies and Boy Scouts, or Eagle Scouts, or what the fuck ever. (Now that's an idea! Maybe Dean Gatti and Krendlkins would change their mind about Greek Life after all!)
I personally am here to learn how to be myself, besides just learning shit we are taught in class. I don't regret any mistake I have made, and neither should you readers. I mean truly, if you're meant to be a soccer mom living in Upper Arlington, then fine, move on. But even the future soccer moms deserve a chance to fuck up. We students don't need a faculty board to tell us how to act and who to be, and we certainly don't need to lose the few we had on our side.
Well, that's some tobacco to chew on, so until next time,
Rage on Motherfuckers!
(even if you are getting judged for getting hammered on a weekday)
xoxo TO
Monday, March 5, 2012
1:1 What the Fuck?
Today I ran to the med center to get an excuse for a class I missed last week, and was bombarded with the 1:1 If At All compaign, and I thought, 1:1 what the fuck is that? The nurses just shrugged and said something about campus drinking, and my friend and I laughed.
So, now I'm sitting down getting ready to study and I manage to see the link about the 1:1 campaign on Otterbein Ozone homepage. After reading it, I'm still left thinking, what...the...fuck?
Let me begin my analysis by stating whoever wrote about the campaign has very few English composition skills, if at all. Some of you may argue I do not either, but at least I like to put some emotion behind my writing, along with rational thought.
Here is an excerpt I would like to begin with,
"A ratio for low-risk alcohol consumption....MORE THAN ONE DRINK PER HOUR = GETTING DRUNK. GETTING DRUNK = HIGH RISK DRINKING. High risk drinking = hangovers, blackouts (a.k.a. memory loss), passing out, vomiting, increased risk of date-rape, alcohol poisoning, dependence issues, violations of the law, academic problems and other really bad stuff. ... GET THE FACTS AND KNOW YOUR LIMITS. INABILITY TO RESTRICT DRINKING TO 1:1 (IF AT ALL) DEFINITION INDICATES POTENTIAL DEPENDENCY PROBLEMS - TALK TO SOMEONE IN THE KNOW - SOONER, NOT LATER."
I couldn't help but start laughing while reading the above excerpt. I wish I could take them seriously, truly, I see the effort these poor, social life-less bastards are putting forth. Clearly, they have many statistics they have put time into recruiting for their studies, including the oh so definitive statistics behind " other really bad stuff." Now don't get me wrong, date rape, alcohol poisoning, and drunk driving are serious issues, and I stand 100 % efforts to educate the community about those topics, but claiming that getting drunk = high risk drinking, and therefore leading to the downfall as you as an upstanding citizen of this community? Ha, give me a fucking break.
I have experienced much of what the author proclaims as "high risk drinking." Of course, I've vomited and I'm sure most of society would consider the Boot-and-Rally a signature sign of blatant alcoholism, but at the same time, who cares? And I've definitely had more hang overs than I can even begin to count, and blacked out, woof, many times. But I'm also in college, and if this isn't the perfect time to rage my face off, when is?
" Choosing not to drink is cool; b.t.w. over one third of Otterbein students choose not to drink (and that's a fact, Jack)."
O.m.g gag me. I'm sure that one third of the campus probably doesn't choose to tell you they drink, and even if that fact is true, "Jack", I'm sure that's the part of campus who wake up in time for church on Sundays, and spend their evenings watching re-runs of Glee and celebrating Justin Bieber's 18th birthday. I'm sure their parents weren't overbearing fucks, and they have photo shoots of their siblings wearing floral on the beach.
While neo-Prohibitionists clearly are the architects behind this ridiculous campaign, I really wish some people would step out of their fucking box and into the real world.
As for me, my bed time will never be before 11 pm, I will spend weekend mornings nursing my hang overs, and I will gladly continue on my path to personal and social destruction. Fuck you very much.
Cheers, bitches!
xoxo TO
So, now I'm sitting down getting ready to study and I manage to see the link about the 1:1 campaign on Otterbein Ozone homepage. After reading it, I'm still left thinking, what...the...fuck?
Let me begin my analysis by stating whoever wrote about the campaign has very few English composition skills, if at all. Some of you may argue I do not either, but at least I like to put some emotion behind my writing, along with rational thought.
Here is an excerpt I would like to begin with,
"A ratio for low-risk alcohol consumption....MORE THAN ONE DRINK PER HOUR = GETTING DRUNK. GETTING DRUNK = HIGH RISK DRINKING. High risk drinking = hangovers, blackouts (a.k.a. memory loss), passing out, vomiting, increased risk of date-rape, alcohol poisoning, dependence issues, violations of the law, academic problems and other really bad stuff. ... GET THE FACTS AND KNOW YOUR LIMITS. INABILITY TO RESTRICT DRINKING TO 1:1 (IF AT ALL) DEFINITION INDICATES POTENTIAL DEPENDENCY PROBLEMS - TALK TO SOMEONE IN THE KNOW - SOONER, NOT LATER."
I couldn't help but start laughing while reading the above excerpt. I wish I could take them seriously, truly, I see the effort these poor, social life-less bastards are putting forth. Clearly, they have many statistics they have put time into recruiting for their studies, including the oh so definitive statistics behind " other really bad stuff." Now don't get me wrong, date rape, alcohol poisoning, and drunk driving are serious issues, and I stand 100 % efforts to educate the community about those topics, but claiming that getting drunk = high risk drinking, and therefore leading to the downfall as you as an upstanding citizen of this community? Ha, give me a fucking break.
I have experienced much of what the author proclaims as "high risk drinking." Of course, I've vomited and I'm sure most of society would consider the Boot-and-Rally a signature sign of blatant alcoholism, but at the same time, who cares? And I've definitely had more hang overs than I can even begin to count, and blacked out, woof, many times. But I'm also in college, and if this isn't the perfect time to rage my face off, when is?
" Choosing not to drink is cool; b.t.w. over one third of Otterbein students choose not to drink (and that's a fact, Jack)."
O.m.g gag me. I'm sure that one third of the campus probably doesn't choose to tell you they drink, and even if that fact is true, "Jack", I'm sure that's the part of campus who wake up in time for church on Sundays, and spend their evenings watching re-runs of Glee and celebrating Justin Bieber's 18th birthday. I'm sure their parents weren't overbearing fucks, and they have photo shoots of their siblings wearing floral on the beach.
While neo-Prohibitionists clearly are the architects behind this ridiculous campaign, I really wish some people would step out of their fucking box and into the real world.
As for me, my bed time will never be before 11 pm, I will spend weekend mornings nursing my hang overs, and I will gladly continue on my path to personal and social destruction. Fuck you very much.
Cheers, bitches!
xoxo TO
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Observations with Ke$ha: The Social Scene at Westerville Mayor's Court
" Anyone
who’s been around Otterbein longer than a week has probably experienced
some sort of run-in with the OPD. Any given weekday, you’ll probably see
at least five police cars patrolling the campus, giving out parking
tickets to any poor sucker who thought they could get away with parking
in a spot they don’t have a parking pass for any longer than five
minutes.
However, as much as some might like to pretend that the troopers are only ‘fake’ police, anyone who has woken up with a hangover and a court date at the Westerville Mayors Court will beg to differ. Our OtterCops are completely capable of handing out not only pesky parking tickets, but also anything from an intoxicated minor, minor in possession, drug abuse and/or drug paraphernalia charges. Your best bet is to avoid getting caught at all costs, but everyone’s luck runs out eventually. Your first court date is certainly one hell of a shock and scare and telling the 'rents is definitely no fun as well. But look on the bright side, you’re in for an experience that, yes, you will laugh about over (strong) drinks one day.
Now, don’t get me wrong, going to court isn’t fun in the slightest. Write the date on the calendar, send your professor some bullshit e-mail about why you’re missing your morning class, and set at least three alarms so you can be up and looking good in court before 9am (or end up like the blog writer and miss your court date on accident, then wake up the next morning to an arrest warrant). Next, stand in line with your paper work and wait to be processed so you can sit and wait to talk to the judge. Prepare for rude and nasty comments meant specifically to make you feel like some sort of felon who really ought to be behind bars for being caught doing whatever you were doing. One friend had the lovely experience of being told, as an childhood education major, that he felt bad for the future of our children should she be there teacher). But this isn’t the part of Westerville Mayor’s Court that most entertains me. While you’re waiting to speak to the judge, take a minute to look around you. Chances are, you’re there with a handful of buddies who got caught in the act with you. Pay attention however, there’s likely about four or five other pOtterbein-ians hating their lives there with you! During my first court trip, I met at least four other Otterbein students, two of which are now friends of mine. It’s always fun to laugh and say “remember how the first time we ever hung out was in court?’ What a great bonding experience! Even if you don’t become best friends with whoever’s there, then at least you can stare at each other awkwardly in the crampus center and whisper to your friends “when I went to court that guy was there!”
But really, in a sick way, the Westerville Mayor’s court brings us together. Sitting in the courtroom is entertainment in it’s own right. While waiting to talk to the judge is nerve-wracking, the first couple times you get to the point where you’re so bitter and pissed about being there that you can sit back and enjoy the experience. It’s almost reality television listening to some of the messes in there. Speaking to the judge is a mess as well. I have never been so thoroughly lectured by someone I don’t know on everything from how weed leads to heroin addiction, to how if he were my parent he would send me to military school. It’s always difficult to restrain your sarcasm when someone is essentially calling you a dumbass to your face, but you just have to bite your tongue, put on your prettiest smile and tell him that you will never ever break the law again. At least until you get caught a few months later.
In my opinion, it’s nearly impossible to survive your time at pOtterbein without at least one run in with the OtterCops. It’s sort of hilarious that probably 80% of the students here have been to court for something ridiculous. It just goes to show what a small community Westerville and pOtterbein is, that the only thing the cops have to do is chase down people who are just trying to enjoy their weekend. Personally, I’ve received more parking tickets than I can count, have been pulled over twice (one of which was the most terrifying experience of my life, but that’s another story), and had two court dates. I’m not a bad person and I know that, I just happen to have terrifically bad luck and I’ve probably helped pay for several people’s vacation homes in the hundreds of dollars I’ve spent on court fees and drug classes. My advice to you- don’t smoke in your dorm room, be subtle about sneaking around with alcohol, and find the best back streets you can walk on your route home. Also, know your rights and be prepared to hop fences and run like hell if you plan on getting through your OtterCareer without adding to your record. If you’re scared about your upcoming drug classes just ask around, chances are that you know five or more people that have been through exactly what you are facing, and possibly meet a dealer or two. Keep your chin up those waiting to head to court, these things build character and definitely add to your status of ‘badass’ when you can say that you’ve been arrested. Those with good luck, stay careful and don’t let your friends act like dumbasses."
Don’t get arrested, throw glitter, spread the love,
Ke$ha
However, as much as some might like to pretend that the troopers are only ‘fake’ police, anyone who has woken up with a hangover and a court date at the Westerville Mayors Court will beg to differ. Our OtterCops are completely capable of handing out not only pesky parking tickets, but also anything from an intoxicated minor, minor in possession, drug abuse and/or drug paraphernalia charges. Your best bet is to avoid getting caught at all costs, but everyone’s luck runs out eventually. Your first court date is certainly one hell of a shock and scare and telling the 'rents is definitely no fun as well. But look on the bright side, you’re in for an experience that, yes, you will laugh about over (strong) drinks one day.
Now, don’t get me wrong, going to court isn’t fun in the slightest. Write the date on the calendar, send your professor some bullshit e-mail about why you’re missing your morning class, and set at least three alarms so you can be up and looking good in court before 9am (or end up like the blog writer and miss your court date on accident, then wake up the next morning to an arrest warrant). Next, stand in line with your paper work and wait to be processed so you can sit and wait to talk to the judge. Prepare for rude and nasty comments meant specifically to make you feel like some sort of felon who really ought to be behind bars for being caught doing whatever you were doing. One friend had the lovely experience of being told, as an childhood education major, that he felt bad for the future of our children should she be there teacher). But this isn’t the part of Westerville Mayor’s Court that most entertains me. While you’re waiting to speak to the judge, take a minute to look around you. Chances are, you’re there with a handful of buddies who got caught in the act with you. Pay attention however, there’s likely about four or five other pOtterbein-ians hating their lives there with you! During my first court trip, I met at least four other Otterbein students, two of which are now friends of mine. It’s always fun to laugh and say “remember how the first time we ever hung out was in court?’ What a great bonding experience! Even if you don’t become best friends with whoever’s there, then at least you can stare at each other awkwardly in the crampus center and whisper to your friends “when I went to court that guy was there!”
But really, in a sick way, the Westerville Mayor’s court brings us together. Sitting in the courtroom is entertainment in it’s own right. While waiting to talk to the judge is nerve-wracking, the first couple times you get to the point where you’re so bitter and pissed about being there that you can sit back and enjoy the experience. It’s almost reality television listening to some of the messes in there. Speaking to the judge is a mess as well. I have never been so thoroughly lectured by someone I don’t know on everything from how weed leads to heroin addiction, to how if he were my parent he would send me to military school. It’s always difficult to restrain your sarcasm when someone is essentially calling you a dumbass to your face, but you just have to bite your tongue, put on your prettiest smile and tell him that you will never ever break the law again. At least until you get caught a few months later.
In my opinion, it’s nearly impossible to survive your time at pOtterbein without at least one run in with the OtterCops. It’s sort of hilarious that probably 80% of the students here have been to court for something ridiculous. It just goes to show what a small community Westerville and pOtterbein is, that the only thing the cops have to do is chase down people who are just trying to enjoy their weekend. Personally, I’ve received more parking tickets than I can count, have been pulled over twice (one of which was the most terrifying experience of my life, but that’s another story), and had two court dates. I’m not a bad person and I know that, I just happen to have terrifically bad luck and I’ve probably helped pay for several people’s vacation homes in the hundreds of dollars I’ve spent on court fees and drug classes. My advice to you- don’t smoke in your dorm room, be subtle about sneaking around with alcohol, and find the best back streets you can walk on your route home. Also, know your rights and be prepared to hop fences and run like hell if you plan on getting through your OtterCareer without adding to your record. If you’re scared about your upcoming drug classes just ask around, chances are that you know five or more people that have been through exactly what you are facing, and possibly meet a dealer or two. Keep your chin up those waiting to head to court, these things build character and definitely add to your status of ‘badass’ when you can say that you’ve been arrested. Those with good luck, stay careful and don’t let your friends act like dumbasses."
Don’t get arrested, throw glitter, spread the love,
Ke$ha
Saturday, March 3, 2012
The Freshman Year Shit Show
Today has been such a lazy day. Lounging around with a close friend, smoking bowls, reminiscing about our freshman days. A perfect Saturday. Grabbed the leftovers of Visit Day at the CC. Fuck you Bon Appeitit, it's so annoying that they only make good food on Visit Days, but I was pretty fucking stoned today, so I either way I was primed for a good meal.
Going back to the deep conversations I had today, about family, about our community of friends, and finally about freshman year, I spent over an hour going through old photo albums on Facebook, and videos I had saved on my computer.
Freshman year...what can I say about freshman year... I honestly think my first couple quarters here at Otterbein were the best times of my life. I cycled through friends like candy until I found my soulmates...people I was supposed to have in my life. Never again will I be able to smoke and drink as much as I did then, and I bet many of you readers can say the same.
I believe college is supposed to help you by providing a world unlike the rest of the world for you to try and become who you truly are. I found a community of friends similar to me. We are the hot fucking messes, brilliant, and stark raving mad. My favorite memories include: one of the first weeks I was here I reached a state of total annihilation of fuckery due to drinking way too much, going to a math exam still drunk wearing makeup reminiscent of some poor Halloween costume gone terribly wrong and cheating off who would become one of my best friends while we shared a calculator and pencil, and staying with one of my best friends and diving into my cocaine driven days of mess. Late nights, staying up until stores could start selling alcohol again in the morning, blacking out, passing out in front of my dorm, vomiting onto Polaris Parkway as my mom drove us to the mall.
I know many of you could tell a similar story. I can just imagine my freshman year compared to others. I knew, sitting in my lecture class, the students around me sat with utter dismay and judgement as I would stumble in reeking of a keg, cigarettes, and shame. The people I just came from hanging out with would just laugh and crack a few jokes if they saw me in the same state.
One of my best friends claims his favorite memories of freshman included the time he tripped on acid in his dorm and ran up and down the stairs screaming and yelling and laughing hysterically with one of his close friends. Another of my friends includes in her favorite memories the times we spent together during the winter, and the night we tripped on acid and journeyed through Westerville. I can take partial responsibility for taking her freshman innocence that winter, and creating a whiskey drinking pot smoking son of a bitch in her. I just talked with a current freshman, and asked her what favorite memory might be so far, and her reply is as follows, " Oh my gosh, every day of my life... especially including Rage Term as a whole."
I love sitting around and telling stories of an Otterbein that few will have the chance to experience.Yes, there have been casualties along the way, including the morals and conscience you once knew and took pride in.
But I hope some of you take the chance to step out of your pathetic fucking box of a life and open your eyes. Smoke your first bowl this weekend (trust me, I'm doing you a favor).
Til next time...
Party on motherfuckers!
xoxo TO
Going back to the deep conversations I had today, about family, about our community of friends, and finally about freshman year, I spent over an hour going through old photo albums on Facebook, and videos I had saved on my computer.
Freshman year...what can I say about freshman year... I honestly think my first couple quarters here at Otterbein were the best times of my life. I cycled through friends like candy until I found my soulmates...people I was supposed to have in my life. Never again will I be able to smoke and drink as much as I did then, and I bet many of you readers can say the same.
I believe college is supposed to help you by providing a world unlike the rest of the world for you to try and become who you truly are. I found a community of friends similar to me. We are the hot fucking messes, brilliant, and stark raving mad. My favorite memories include: one of the first weeks I was here I reached a state of total annihilation of fuckery due to drinking way too much, going to a math exam still drunk wearing makeup reminiscent of some poor Halloween costume gone terribly wrong and cheating off who would become one of my best friends while we shared a calculator and pencil, and staying with one of my best friends and diving into my cocaine driven days of mess. Late nights, staying up until stores could start selling alcohol again in the morning, blacking out, passing out in front of my dorm, vomiting onto Polaris Parkway as my mom drove us to the mall.
I know many of you could tell a similar story. I can just imagine my freshman year compared to others. I knew, sitting in my lecture class, the students around me sat with utter dismay and judgement as I would stumble in reeking of a keg, cigarettes, and shame. The people I just came from hanging out with would just laugh and crack a few jokes if they saw me in the same state.
One of my best friends claims his favorite memories of freshman included the time he tripped on acid in his dorm and ran up and down the stairs screaming and yelling and laughing hysterically with one of his close friends. Another of my friends includes in her favorite memories the times we spent together during the winter, and the night we tripped on acid and journeyed through Westerville. I can take partial responsibility for taking her freshman innocence that winter, and creating a whiskey drinking pot smoking son of a bitch in her. I just talked with a current freshman, and asked her what favorite memory might be so far, and her reply is as follows, " Oh my gosh, every day of my life... especially including Rage Term as a whole."
I love sitting around and telling stories of an Otterbein that few will have the chance to experience.Yes, there have been casualties along the way, including the morals and conscience you once knew and took pride in.
But I hope some of you take the chance to step out of your pathetic fucking box of a life and open your eyes. Smoke your first bowl this weekend (trust me, I'm doing you a favor).
Til next time...
Party on motherfuckers!
xoxo TO
Friday, March 2, 2012
Eskimo Brothers
Oh Thursdays, they never cease to amaze me. This morning I wake up, roll over in bed, take a gander at my phone. This whole drunk texting thing needs to end. Is there an app for that? Yes, starting the day off with a headache, leftovers of alcohol in random cups scattered everywhere, some in the fridge. Why is it that when you're drunk you think leftovers of a drink are going to be as good as leftovers from dinner? It literally makes no sense when you're sober. But whatever. Most of my memory is gone past midnight. Anything after is a toss up as for what actually happened. I think I went bar hopping? Or to another house? I have no fucking idea, but this headache and text log full of mistakes are just evidence of a great time that I'll never remember.
I wish the weather wasn't so shitty. But at least it gives me a good excuse to stay in bed, nursing my headache and bruises. Have to be up and primed for tonight's festivities! I probably won't try to go balls deep in the rage tonight, but I'll definitely be ready to throw back a couple shots.
Today's discussion is on the truths of being an eskimo brother. Now, for the readers who do not know what the fuck eskimo brothers are, it is when two people share the same sexual partner. No, I don't mean having a threesome or being swingers (necessarily), but say you hooked up with this one guy (or girl) and it turns out a friend of yours already did. You and your friend, congratulations, are eskimo brothers!!
Now, don't go out and celebrate your discovery by killing some baby seals with clubs or build an igloo. In reality, your discovery is a reflection of our tiny little community, and is up for you and your friends to hide in shame or laugh about it all in good fun.
In my circle of friends, the bunch of sex fiends we are, it is very easy to walk into a party, or even just a room hanging out, and see quite a few of your own eskimo brothers, as well as another circle of eskimo brothers, which may or may not be even more of a shitfest than your own awkward encounter with your "brothers".
In my case, I usually laugh at my own sexcapades, and enjoy a joke or two about how I'm such a dumb slut with my friends. In other cases though, I have been a witness to the tension that emanates throughout the room when an awkward as fuck love triangle walks into the room. One lover won't look at the other, but stares at the common x factor with longing or pure hatred.
Sometimes being an eskimo brother, in fact, ruins friendships. And nothing short of hiding in your dorm or house will keep you from experiencing such discoveries. Often, too, it seems if the creation of eskimo brothers was not founded on good terms or the like, it often leads to fights, the usual drunk anger (that itself is a topic I will soon discuss), and divides among friends.
My ending advice is this, keep it in your pants or laugh about it. Simple enough. This campus is much too small to think you can hide who you fucked after the mixer you went to, or that you think you can hook up with your friend's ex. So take everything with a grain of salt, and hope that your close friend isn't a Slutty McSlutterison.
Now, I hope all you dear readers enjoy your weekend. It's Friday, Friday, gotta get crunk on Friday! (Ha, hope that stupid ass song gets stuck in your head.) Til next, time...
Rage on motherfuckers!
Ps. If a tornado does come, I hope it really will wipe out this entire cesspool of a campus. Some of you could use a fresh start, and I'm right there with ya.
xoxo TO
I wish the weather wasn't so shitty. But at least it gives me a good excuse to stay in bed, nursing my headache and bruises. Have to be up and primed for tonight's festivities! I probably won't try to go balls deep in the rage tonight, but I'll definitely be ready to throw back a couple shots.
Today's discussion is on the truths of being an eskimo brother. Now, for the readers who do not know what the fuck eskimo brothers are, it is when two people share the same sexual partner. No, I don't mean having a threesome or being swingers (necessarily), but say you hooked up with this one guy (or girl) and it turns out a friend of yours already did. You and your friend, congratulations, are eskimo brothers!!
Now, don't go out and celebrate your discovery by killing some baby seals with clubs or build an igloo. In reality, your discovery is a reflection of our tiny little community, and is up for you and your friends to hide in shame or laugh about it all in good fun.
In my circle of friends, the bunch of sex fiends we are, it is very easy to walk into a party, or even just a room hanging out, and see quite a few of your own eskimo brothers, as well as another circle of eskimo brothers, which may or may not be even more of a shitfest than your own awkward encounter with your "brothers".
In my case, I usually laugh at my own sexcapades, and enjoy a joke or two about how I'm such a dumb slut with my friends. In other cases though, I have been a witness to the tension that emanates throughout the room when an awkward as fuck love triangle walks into the room. One lover won't look at the other, but stares at the common x factor with longing or pure hatred.
Sometimes being an eskimo brother, in fact, ruins friendships. And nothing short of hiding in your dorm or house will keep you from experiencing such discoveries. Often, too, it seems if the creation of eskimo brothers was not founded on good terms or the like, it often leads to fights, the usual drunk anger (that itself is a topic I will soon discuss), and divides among friends.
My ending advice is this, keep it in your pants or laugh about it. Simple enough. This campus is much too small to think you can hide who you fucked after the mixer you went to, or that you think you can hook up with your friend's ex. So take everything with a grain of salt, and hope that your close friend isn't a Slutty McSlutterison.
Now, I hope all you dear readers enjoy your weekend. It's Friday, Friday, gotta get crunk on Friday! (Ha, hope that stupid ass song gets stuck in your head.) Til next, time...
Rage on motherfuckers!
Ps. If a tornado does come, I hope it really will wipe out this entire cesspool of a campus. Some of you could use a fresh start, and I'm right there with ya.
xoxo TO
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Are You Down with the OPD? Yeah You Know Me!
Ah, finally, Thursday! The beginning of the weekend, or at least for some of us. Jump starting the weekend with quenching your thirst is a great way to end a stressful week. And with my week having been filled with exams and hours in the library? You bet your ass I'll be throwing back some shots of tequila tonight as soon as I get out of an exam.Good liquor and good friends makes for some great stress therapy.
Today's discussion, dear readers, is about the men in blue. Or gray. Usually I'm too fucked up to really focus on what the fuck they're wearing. Yes, I'm am referring to the OtterRent-a-Cops, or really, the Otterbein Police Department. The question, friend or foe? To me and my friends, it's foe. Mostly...yeah, no, just foe.
The OPD and I go way back to my freshman year. My roommate, by the end of the year, had decided I led a sinful life filled with booze, sex, and drugs. What could I say? Too much money and too much time on my hands led to some good times. Long story short, the OPD, or "security" at the time, had flipped my room upside down searching for paraphernalia and alcohol. Which, of course, they found. I think my mom quite literally shit a brick when I told her I had to go to "therapy" for being what Otterbein standards considered "being an alcoholic."
Fast forward months and years later and many encounters, the night officers of the OPD and I know each other on a first name basis. This became a true revelation when, one night at Jimmy V's, two OtterCops walked in and we greeted each other with hugs and laughter when I offered to buy them a drink. When they left, I turned to my friend whose face was covered with shock and dismay. I shrugged and continued to throw back a Ray J shot. My relationship with the OPD is not shared by many. You know the saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. My opinion of the OPD overall though, is that they are fucks.
Since they have become an official police department, their ego has skyrocketed. I blame it on the training they did with the Westerville cops, who we all know, have no souls and apparently grew up in a convent or monastery or whatever the fuck else kept them in hidden from the dark of this world. That's the only explanation I have for why they thoroughly enjoy busting parties and harassing students who happen to be walking around past whatever fucking curfew they have set in their minds.
My anger towards the OPD and the WPD grew when I discovered a wicked little truth. An old friend of mine worked in the cigar shop, and had become close to the police chief of the WPD. One drunken night, the chief told my friend of Kathy Krendl's desire to enforce a Zero Tolerance policy against Otterbein students and how she had approached the police to aid with her iron fist.
In my eyes, that was the final straw. Between Krendlkins obvious distaste for Greek life and nature (referring to her asking to cut down all the trees on campus including the beloved tree in front of Towers), learning of her desire for a Zero Tolerance policy made me want to punch some infants.
While the OPD must do their jobs, do they really need to patrol campus like a police state? When will the cameras come? Circling known "party" houses, when clearly no one is home, makes no sense to me. Following students as they walk out of fraternity and sorority houses, totally unnecessary. Interrogating Greek life members for ridiculous hazing allegations? Honestly, they can go fuck themselves.
The other night, I saw a student walk by wearing a Student Security neon shirt. Really? Seriously? I'm at a loss for words. If they start a true student security organization, I couldn't be able to take them seriously.
I can just imagine, me walking home drunk, being stopped by a student security "officer" and just reply to them with a "What, would you like a fucking hall pass?" Yeah, enough said.
Well that's my rant against the OPD and Kathy Krendl. You can bet I'll be writing more on those topics, but right now I have to get ready for class, and run to the liquor store.
PS. If you ever run into Andy and Andrew, the night OtterCops, they've been pretty decent to me and some of my friends. They kind of remind me of Dumb and Dumber, but at least they don't have the Texas-sized egos of some of the others.
xoxo TO
Today's discussion, dear readers, is about the men in blue. Or gray. Usually I'm too fucked up to really focus on what the fuck they're wearing. Yes, I'm am referring to the OtterRent-a-Cops, or really, the Otterbein Police Department. The question, friend or foe? To me and my friends, it's foe. Mostly...yeah, no, just foe.
The OPD and I go way back to my freshman year. My roommate, by the end of the year, had decided I led a sinful life filled with booze, sex, and drugs. What could I say? Too much money and too much time on my hands led to some good times. Long story short, the OPD, or "security" at the time, had flipped my room upside down searching for paraphernalia and alcohol. Which, of course, they found. I think my mom quite literally shit a brick when I told her I had to go to "therapy" for being what Otterbein standards considered "being an alcoholic."
Fast forward months and years later and many encounters, the night officers of the OPD and I know each other on a first name basis. This became a true revelation when, one night at Jimmy V's, two OtterCops walked in and we greeted each other with hugs and laughter when I offered to buy them a drink. When they left, I turned to my friend whose face was covered with shock and dismay. I shrugged and continued to throw back a Ray J shot. My relationship with the OPD is not shared by many. You know the saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. My opinion of the OPD overall though, is that they are fucks.
Since they have become an official police department, their ego has skyrocketed. I blame it on the training they did with the Westerville cops, who we all know, have no souls and apparently grew up in a convent or monastery or whatever the fuck else kept them in hidden from the dark of this world. That's the only explanation I have for why they thoroughly enjoy busting parties and harassing students who happen to be walking around past whatever fucking curfew they have set in their minds.
My anger towards the OPD and the WPD grew when I discovered a wicked little truth. An old friend of mine worked in the cigar shop, and had become close to the police chief of the WPD. One drunken night, the chief told my friend of Kathy Krendl's desire to enforce a Zero Tolerance policy against Otterbein students and how she had approached the police to aid with her iron fist.
In my eyes, that was the final straw. Between Krendlkins obvious distaste for Greek life and nature (referring to her asking to cut down all the trees on campus including the beloved tree in front of Towers), learning of her desire for a Zero Tolerance policy made me want to punch some infants.
While the OPD must do their jobs, do they really need to patrol campus like a police state? When will the cameras come? Circling known "party" houses, when clearly no one is home, makes no sense to me. Following students as they walk out of fraternity and sorority houses, totally unnecessary. Interrogating Greek life members for ridiculous hazing allegations? Honestly, they can go fuck themselves.
The other night, I saw a student walk by wearing a Student Security neon shirt. Really? Seriously? I'm at a loss for words. If they start a true student security organization, I couldn't be able to take them seriously.
I can just imagine, me walking home drunk, being stopped by a student security "officer" and just reply to them with a "What, would you like a fucking hall pass?" Yeah, enough said.
Well that's my rant against the OPD and Kathy Krendl. You can bet I'll be writing more on those topics, but right now I have to get ready for class, and run to the liquor store.
PS. If you ever run into Andy and Andrew, the night OtterCops, they've been pretty decent to me and some of my friends. They kind of remind me of Dumb and Dumber, but at least they don't have the Texas-sized egos of some of the others.
xoxo TO
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
A Precarious Balance
Hey fellow pOtterbeiners! Another ridiculously lovely day in central Ohio. Enjoy a beer on your porch, smoke a bowl in the park! It's a perfect day for it.
Today on my drive back from class, I was thinking about what the "counterculture" actually is. Everyone is well aware of the weekend parties, the fraternity guys who drink, the sorority girls who smoke. You generally know who everyone is, definitely one of the downfalls for going to such a small school for some. Even those in OCF can be well aware of who is who, should they get their head out of the Bible or their homework.
To me, the counterculture consists of those who party and flourish. I'll begin to help you understand by giving you some examples.
The first person I'd like to discuss is a dear friend of mine, one of my best friends. Since my freshman year, he and I have gone through alot of shit together. By the end of my freshman year, we were spending hundreds of dollars on cocaine. Doing lines in the dorms of 25, shoving cocaine up our noses in the bathroom of parties around campus, laughing because we were so tweaked walking to the Bope to buy cigarettes that we realized we were practically sprinting then tell ourselves to slow down only for three feet later to be fucking sprinting again. We were having the time of our lives. He gave me a home during spring break that year, was my rock during pledging (no pun intended). He sat next to me this past summer and gave me his credit card to fill up my tank after we managed to break down in front of three Columbus police officers, and was texting me while I sat in the front seat of one of those officer's cars with a gram of blow in my purse on my lap, trying my hardest not to talk too fast or laugh to loud while we drove to get gas.
He truly is my best friend. Now he is on the verge of going to grad school, leaving the cesspool to do much better things. When that time comes, I have no idea what I'll do without him. The reason I have shared all of this with you, is that he truly is successful. We could have spent all those hours of our short lived cocaine addiction in the library, studying, but instead we took time to be college kids. I have no regrets, neither does he. And while we may come across as losers to some of you readers, I can simply laugh.
The counterculture of Otterbein is the student, tweaked out on speed or blow who finishes all of their essays in one night. It is the alcoholic who can still manage to stumble to their 8 am and take notes, even if a short trip to the bathroom to vomit is in order. It is the stoner who can participate in a lively discussion with a professor both inside and outside the classroom.
The counterculture is a balance of both mess and brilliance. Both obtaining good grades and good weed. My friend will go on to do brilliant things with his life, to write books about his experience in college, and to know we did exactly what we wanted, while still being an active student in class.
The counterculture is a big fuck you to Kathy Krendl, the OPD, and the rest of society who thinks we will do nothing with our lives but smoke weed on a couch, or drink ourselves into oblivion. Yes, we may do just that, but at least we are living, breathing, and making the best out of these short college years. Spend all of your evenings with your head shoved into a book, but me? My friends? I'd much rather enjoy a bowl before heading to the library, or grab a few beers at happy hour before hitting the books.
That's it for today, readers. Now please, stop reading this fucking blog and get outside!
xoxo TO
Today on my drive back from class, I was thinking about what the "counterculture" actually is. Everyone is well aware of the weekend parties, the fraternity guys who drink, the sorority girls who smoke. You generally know who everyone is, definitely one of the downfalls for going to such a small school for some. Even those in OCF can be well aware of who is who, should they get their head out of the Bible or their homework.
To me, the counterculture consists of those who party and flourish. I'll begin to help you understand by giving you some examples.
The first person I'd like to discuss is a dear friend of mine, one of my best friends. Since my freshman year, he and I have gone through alot of shit together. By the end of my freshman year, we were spending hundreds of dollars on cocaine. Doing lines in the dorms of 25, shoving cocaine up our noses in the bathroom of parties around campus, laughing because we were so tweaked walking to the Bope to buy cigarettes that we realized we were practically sprinting then tell ourselves to slow down only for three feet later to be fucking sprinting again. We were having the time of our lives. He gave me a home during spring break that year, was my rock during pledging (no pun intended). He sat next to me this past summer and gave me his credit card to fill up my tank after we managed to break down in front of three Columbus police officers, and was texting me while I sat in the front seat of one of those officer's cars with a gram of blow in my purse on my lap, trying my hardest not to talk too fast or laugh to loud while we drove to get gas.
He truly is my best friend. Now he is on the verge of going to grad school, leaving the cesspool to do much better things. When that time comes, I have no idea what I'll do without him. The reason I have shared all of this with you, is that he truly is successful. We could have spent all those hours of our short lived cocaine addiction in the library, studying, but instead we took time to be college kids. I have no regrets, neither does he. And while we may come across as losers to some of you readers, I can simply laugh.
The counterculture of Otterbein is the student, tweaked out on speed or blow who finishes all of their essays in one night. It is the alcoholic who can still manage to stumble to their 8 am and take notes, even if a short trip to the bathroom to vomit is in order. It is the stoner who can participate in a lively discussion with a professor both inside and outside the classroom.
The counterculture is a balance of both mess and brilliance. Both obtaining good grades and good weed. My friend will go on to do brilliant things with his life, to write books about his experience in college, and to know we did exactly what we wanted, while still being an active student in class.
The counterculture is a big fuck you to Kathy Krendl, the OPD, and the rest of society who thinks we will do nothing with our lives but smoke weed on a couch, or drink ourselves into oblivion. Yes, we may do just that, but at least we are living, breathing, and making the best out of these short college years. Spend all of your evenings with your head shoved into a book, but me? My friends? I'd much rather enjoy a bowl before heading to the library, or grab a few beers at happy hour before hitting the books.
That's it for today, readers. Now please, stop reading this fucking blog and get outside!
xoxo TO
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Guest Blogger: Observations with Ke$ha
The following excerpt is from guest blogger. Enjoy :]
" Another weekend in Potterbien came and gone. Mondays are a great time to reflect on your weekend and see how much of a success if was or wasn’t. Personally, my weekend included pretending a cooler full of juice was a treasure chest in Zelda (sound effects and all mind you), playing edward fortyhands with some of my favorite people and going to a mixer fully glitter-fied. Wait was that three days? Right, I started on Thursday. Whatever, I usually can put away half a bottle of whiskey on a Wednesday (get on my level).
Between continuing to shake glitter out of my hair and laughing at the fact that I stole an entire purse-full of beer while on my adventures this time I’ve come to the conclusion that Potterbein (at least the Potterbein that I know and love) actively encourages its students to fully pursue and build on their substance abuse. Now now, don’t get all worked up that Otterbein’s dry campus is promoting drinking, or anything like that. Feel free to stay in and study like most students, some of us choose to put our social lives above our studies and we are in a constant state of sleep deprivation because as a result while we spend our sober hours catching up on school work. But really, we go to a school that is small enough that you probably see most of the same people every single day and probably know their first name at least. Shit, you probably know someone they’ve slept with and what they did last weekend for the most part. Why in the hell people can stand staying sober when we’re stuck in such a cesspool is beyond me and if you can more power to you.
But really, our campus is so small that there really is so little to do apart from work in the library or hang out with friends and throw back a couple of cold ones. It starts out innocently with thirsty Thursdays as a freshman, something so novel and ‘college’ that you can’t possibly resist. You start off timidly, drinking a few beers and leaving by one o’clock explaining to everyone “I have class tomorrow”. Give it a few months and you’re taking shots like a champ all night and stumbling home somewhere around four in the morning. Wake up the next morning, shower and chug some water and off to class with only a slight headache and sunglasses in February because it’s too damn bright outside. Congrats, you’re well on your way to becoming a functioning alcoholic!
Fast-forward a year later. Now you’re scheduling your classes so there’s no way in hell that you have to wake up before noon on a Friday because you plan on getting ‘white girl wasted’ at least every Thursday. Not too mention how perfect Wednesday nights are for relaxing with a bottle of wine or two. It might result in you falling down the stairs and possibly attempting to fight some of your close friends but it’s all in good fun right? Mardi Gras on a Tuesday? You better believe that’s reason enough to pound down some New Orleans whiskey, play drinking games all night and forget your walk home. Grapefruit mojitos night? Yeah another situation that may result in you falling down more slippery fucking steps and lying about spilling a friend’s beer that you hid sneakily in your jacket. “NO, I didn’t spill…Okay, maybe just a little bit. Okay it might be all over my shirt” It’s not that you can’t have fun without drinking, it’s just that you and all of your close friends are so much more fun when you’re drinking together. You’re all perfectly fantastic people sober, but also all on the brink of being crazy enough that we just like to have a good old time and that usually includes a case and a bong or two. You know you’ve graduated to truly functioning alcoholic when you can go to class on Wednesday hung-over enough that you have to leave the room and puke. Heck it isn’t very classy but you still made it to class and sat through the entire thing, vomiting and all.
Now, you may beg to differ and I can’t blame you. Everyone has their preferences and I respect that. But if you’re one of the resident crazies of Potterbein I’m sure you agree with me. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being crazy and liking to drink. I’ll warn you however, once you start hanging out with us, it’ll rub off on you eventually. In fact, here I sit on a Monday night, typing this up while waiting for a forty of Cobra to arrive so I can celebrate finishing all my homework for the upcoming week on time. Don’t judge, one won’t even make a dent in my alcohol tolerance, however the shots of rum and mixed drinks might… "
Drink on, throw glitter, spread the love
Ke$ha
" Another weekend in Potterbien came and gone. Mondays are a great time to reflect on your weekend and see how much of a success if was or wasn’t. Personally, my weekend included pretending a cooler full of juice was a treasure chest in Zelda (sound effects and all mind you), playing edward fortyhands with some of my favorite people and going to a mixer fully glitter-fied. Wait was that three days? Right, I started on Thursday. Whatever, I usually can put away half a bottle of whiskey on a Wednesday (get on my level).
Between continuing to shake glitter out of my hair and laughing at the fact that I stole an entire purse-full of beer while on my adventures this time I’ve come to the conclusion that Potterbein (at least the Potterbein that I know and love) actively encourages its students to fully pursue and build on their substance abuse. Now now, don’t get all worked up that Otterbein’s dry campus is promoting drinking, or anything like that. Feel free to stay in and study like most students, some of us choose to put our social lives above our studies and we are in a constant state of sleep deprivation because as a result while we spend our sober hours catching up on school work. But really, we go to a school that is small enough that you probably see most of the same people every single day and probably know their first name at least. Shit, you probably know someone they’ve slept with and what they did last weekend for the most part. Why in the hell people can stand staying sober when we’re stuck in such a cesspool is beyond me and if you can more power to you.
But really, our campus is so small that there really is so little to do apart from work in the library or hang out with friends and throw back a couple of cold ones. It starts out innocently with thirsty Thursdays as a freshman, something so novel and ‘college’ that you can’t possibly resist. You start off timidly, drinking a few beers and leaving by one o’clock explaining to everyone “I have class tomorrow”. Give it a few months and you’re taking shots like a champ all night and stumbling home somewhere around four in the morning. Wake up the next morning, shower and chug some water and off to class with only a slight headache and sunglasses in February because it’s too damn bright outside. Congrats, you’re well on your way to becoming a functioning alcoholic!
Fast-forward a year later. Now you’re scheduling your classes so there’s no way in hell that you have to wake up before noon on a Friday because you plan on getting ‘white girl wasted’ at least every Thursday. Not too mention how perfect Wednesday nights are for relaxing with a bottle of wine or two. It might result in you falling down the stairs and possibly attempting to fight some of your close friends but it’s all in good fun right? Mardi Gras on a Tuesday? You better believe that’s reason enough to pound down some New Orleans whiskey, play drinking games all night and forget your walk home. Grapefruit mojitos night? Yeah another situation that may result in you falling down more slippery fucking steps and lying about spilling a friend’s beer that you hid sneakily in your jacket. “NO, I didn’t spill…Okay, maybe just a little bit. Okay it might be all over my shirt” It’s not that you can’t have fun without drinking, it’s just that you and all of your close friends are so much more fun when you’re drinking together. You’re all perfectly fantastic people sober, but also all on the brink of being crazy enough that we just like to have a good old time and that usually includes a case and a bong or two. You know you’ve graduated to truly functioning alcoholic when you can go to class on Wednesday hung-over enough that you have to leave the room and puke. Heck it isn’t very classy but you still made it to class and sat through the entire thing, vomiting and all.
Now, you may beg to differ and I can’t blame you. Everyone has their preferences and I respect that. But if you’re one of the resident crazies of Potterbein I’m sure you agree with me. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being crazy and liking to drink. I’ll warn you however, once you start hanging out with us, it’ll rub off on you eventually. In fact, here I sit on a Monday night, typing this up while waiting for a forty of Cobra to arrive so I can celebrate finishing all my homework for the upcoming week on time. Don’t judge, one won’t even make a dent in my alcohol tolerance, however the shots of rum and mixed drinks might… "
Drink on, throw glitter, spread the love
Ke$ha
Monday, February 27, 2012
Discussion on Stealing in College
Today I spring cleaned the fuck out of my room as my best friend sat studying, tweaked on Adderall. It was a beautiful day here on Otterbein's campus. We were joking around about this blog, and the place I want to take it. To really open people's eyes to the world besides the one of OCF and honors fraternities.
I want to discuss tonight the varying degrees of stealing. This was brought about by the conversation that began when I was piling clothes I want to throw out and clothes I wanted to donate, and laughed when I realized I was donating a pair of pants I stole from a JCPenny's not too long ago. I had laughed to myself and asked my friend if I was some sick version of Robin Hood. Then we began to reminisce about the time we stole a Christmas tree from Meijer for Christmas last year.
I believe there are varying degrees of stealing when one shouldn't entirely feel too morally corrupt. The fact still remains though that I'm morally corrupt for even thinking any degree of stealing is ok. And quite a few of my friends think it's ok. Again reflecting the counterculture that flourishes at Otterbein.
Firstly, there is the act of stealing from a roommate. Food, clothes, makeup, alcohol. In my house, my roommates flip the fuck out should a teense bit of their butter be taken without warning. Or a swig of their milk should be taken without offering to buy an entire carton as repayment. Who doesn't take a little shlip here and there from their roommate? Is there true harm in it? I believe alcohol is like precious stones or gold though. Should someone take anyone else's alcohol, chopping off a hand as shouldn't be too far from a viable form of punishment. I think this is because I'd rather spend money on alcohol over food. Does this make me an alcoholic?
Following the idea of stealing alcohol, I know many an acquaintance who have taken a bottle of wine or liquor from the local Kroger. I myself have perfected the art. I also have taken food while grocery shopping. Last winter my ex and I stole steak and made a delicious steak and eggs lunch over a couple old Keystone, discovered from the party before. Should I feel guilty? Should my acquaintances feel guilty as well? My answer is: hardly. I'm a poor college kid, one of decent sized percentage of students who probably have had a parent sell off their left limb on the black market so there child can attend this God forsaken place. Yes, I work part time, but that money usually goes to my house and the retardly high rent I pay. Stealing alcohol? I give no fucks about the guilt I should technically feel should I be a normal member of society. But I am not a normal member of society, and neither are my friends. We steal from Kroger without a blink of an eye, a bead of sweat, we even have the brass balls to look into the camera and give a smile, shit we could even wave. Sucks to suck, you corporate fucks.
My final analysis of stealing is that of stealing valuables from friends. This is the part where my nearly disintegrated morals manage to creep up from the black pit that was my conscious, which has slowly disappeared over the three years I have attended this school. Stealing from friends, that is simply fucked up. Money, watches, jewelry, girlfriends, boyfriends. Here, your friends are your family. Most of my friends are similar upbringings like me; families that put the fun in dysfunctional; an emotionally absent father, a brother that has bought you alcohol and/or drugs since you were thirteen. You go to college, probably not knowing more than a handful of people, not including the peers you met on the Otterbein College freshman class Facebook pages. You lose your mind your freshman year, get arrested a few times, and feel the pressure from your parents to do well because the father or mother that sold their left limb for you to attend this school cries every night about the arm or leg that used to be. Your sisters, brothers, freshman roommate, they become your true family. Stealing from them is like stealing from yourself. You grow together, black out on Friday nights together, trip your balls off on acid on Saturday nights together. I have no respect for those who have stolen from their friends. Food? Sure. Alcohol? Prepare to lose a hand. Money or other valuables? You should probably just leave this school. There is no hope for your soul, for even though I may have sunk to the lower end of the moral cesspool, I would never do such a thing. Neither should you, readers.
Well this concludes my soap box on the varying degrees of stealing. Study hard, I know Mondays suck. Just think though, spring break is on the horizon.
Good evening readers.
xoxo TO
I want to discuss tonight the varying degrees of stealing. This was brought about by the conversation that began when I was piling clothes I want to throw out and clothes I wanted to donate, and laughed when I realized I was donating a pair of pants I stole from a JCPenny's not too long ago. I had laughed to myself and asked my friend if I was some sick version of Robin Hood. Then we began to reminisce about the time we stole a Christmas tree from Meijer for Christmas last year.
I believe there are varying degrees of stealing when one shouldn't entirely feel too morally corrupt. The fact still remains though that I'm morally corrupt for even thinking any degree of stealing is ok. And quite a few of my friends think it's ok. Again reflecting the counterculture that flourishes at Otterbein.
Firstly, there is the act of stealing from a roommate. Food, clothes, makeup, alcohol. In my house, my roommates flip the fuck out should a teense bit of their butter be taken without warning. Or a swig of their milk should be taken without offering to buy an entire carton as repayment. Who doesn't take a little shlip here and there from their roommate? Is there true harm in it? I believe alcohol is like precious stones or gold though. Should someone take anyone else's alcohol, chopping off a hand as shouldn't be too far from a viable form of punishment. I think this is because I'd rather spend money on alcohol over food. Does this make me an alcoholic?
Following the idea of stealing alcohol, I know many an acquaintance who have taken a bottle of wine or liquor from the local Kroger. I myself have perfected the art. I also have taken food while grocery shopping. Last winter my ex and I stole steak and made a delicious steak and eggs lunch over a couple old Keystone, discovered from the party before. Should I feel guilty? Should my acquaintances feel guilty as well? My answer is: hardly. I'm a poor college kid, one of decent sized percentage of students who probably have had a parent sell off their left limb on the black market so there child can attend this God forsaken place. Yes, I work part time, but that money usually goes to my house and the retardly high rent I pay. Stealing alcohol? I give no fucks about the guilt I should technically feel should I be a normal member of society. But I am not a normal member of society, and neither are my friends. We steal from Kroger without a blink of an eye, a bead of sweat, we even have the brass balls to look into the camera and give a smile, shit we could even wave. Sucks to suck, you corporate fucks.
My final analysis of stealing is that of stealing valuables from friends. This is the part where my nearly disintegrated morals manage to creep up from the black pit that was my conscious, which has slowly disappeared over the three years I have attended this school. Stealing from friends, that is simply fucked up. Money, watches, jewelry, girlfriends, boyfriends. Here, your friends are your family. Most of my friends are similar upbringings like me; families that put the fun in dysfunctional; an emotionally absent father, a brother that has bought you alcohol and/or drugs since you were thirteen. You go to college, probably not knowing more than a handful of people, not including the peers you met on the Otterbein College freshman class Facebook pages. You lose your mind your freshman year, get arrested a few times, and feel the pressure from your parents to do well because the father or mother that sold their left limb for you to attend this school cries every night about the arm or leg that used to be. Your sisters, brothers, freshman roommate, they become your true family. Stealing from them is like stealing from yourself. You grow together, black out on Friday nights together, trip your balls off on acid on Saturday nights together. I have no respect for those who have stolen from their friends. Food? Sure. Alcohol? Prepare to lose a hand. Money or other valuables? You should probably just leave this school. There is no hope for your soul, for even though I may have sunk to the lower end of the moral cesspool, I would never do such a thing. Neither should you, readers.
Well this concludes my soap box on the varying degrees of stealing. Study hard, I know Mondays suck. Just think though, spring break is on the horizon.
Good evening readers.
xoxo TO
Sunday, February 26, 2012
A Saturday Night//Nancy Botwin
McDonalds and the fourth season of Weeds. Key to recovering from a Saturday night black out.
Last night was the usual shit show. Went to a mixer with a fraternity (who just so happened to get a very attractive pledge class this year, good job boys), drank my body weight in vodka. Blacked out by 3 am but according to my phone log, I called and texted every person I knew in a 20 min radius until 7 am. Managed to stumble my way around campus to different parties dressed in a Hawaiian luau get up. All my friends have a similar story.
While I sat in bed with one of my best friends, lounging and debating if I could summon the energy to go find my lost vehicle, I began to remember bits and pieces of the night. Days like these, I have no doubt is a common scenario for many students both at Otterbein and elsewhere. The difference here? No night is ever a get drunk, get laid, and get home without getting arrested night.
Today, laying in bed, venting about boys and girls and exes and wondering where the fuck I parked my car, I began to ponder what crazy is. Maybe it was influenced by Nancy Botwin and the hours of Weeds I had been watching. The crazy I am, the crazy my friends are, and the shit we do, the lives we lead...it's all madness.
At other schools, there are numerous places to go party, to go drink. Here, at Otterbein, we have slim pickins of places to go to get belligerently drunk. You cannot avoid anyone really, an ex, a former best friend, or just a random one night stand that happened to go horribly wrong because he would shut up and high five'd you right after he got off. We eventually have become comfortable, or can at least justify it in our minds, with the ability to completely screw someone over, even your best friend, and still can sleep with ease at night. Usually by the end of your sophomore year, you realize just how small this school is, and how your moral compass has dwindled to some prehistoric version of a sun dial. The longer you attend this school, the lines between right and wrong blur, and you are stumbling along in some amphetamine and alcohol induced state hoping that you are doing at least what you think is right.
The next morning, I sit on my front porch, enjoying a cigarette, and watch as elderly couples and families dressed in their best, walk into church. There moral compasses are due north, or at least you'd hope. Sometimes, on Sundays, I sit for hours outside smoking cigarettes and laugh at myself, or memories of the night before. I often wonder what it would be like to be normal, to be up and sober for church at 10:30 am. I haven't attended a church service since my junior year of high school, and certainly wasn't sober at a service since I was 13. I think of the other half of the Otterbein student population, and what they did the night before. Watch the latest season of Glee on Netflix? Study? What does Kathy Krendl do on a Saturday night? Where does her moral compass point?
I don't mean to be so negative tonight. It's just been a long day.
xoxo TO
Last night was the usual shit show. Went to a mixer with a fraternity (who just so happened to get a very attractive pledge class this year, good job boys), drank my body weight in vodka. Blacked out by 3 am but according to my phone log, I called and texted every person I knew in a 20 min radius until 7 am. Managed to stumble my way around campus to different parties dressed in a Hawaiian luau get up. All my friends have a similar story.
While I sat in bed with one of my best friends, lounging and debating if I could summon the energy to go find my lost vehicle, I began to remember bits and pieces of the night. Days like these, I have no doubt is a common scenario for many students both at Otterbein and elsewhere. The difference here? No night is ever a get drunk, get laid, and get home without getting arrested night.
Today, laying in bed, venting about boys and girls and exes and wondering where the fuck I parked my car, I began to ponder what crazy is. Maybe it was influenced by Nancy Botwin and the hours of Weeds I had been watching. The crazy I am, the crazy my friends are, and the shit we do, the lives we lead...it's all madness.
At other schools, there are numerous places to go party, to go drink. Here, at Otterbein, we have slim pickins of places to go to get belligerently drunk. You cannot avoid anyone really, an ex, a former best friend, or just a random one night stand that happened to go horribly wrong because he would shut up and high five'd you right after he got off. We eventually have become comfortable, or can at least justify it in our minds, with the ability to completely screw someone over, even your best friend, and still can sleep with ease at night. Usually by the end of your sophomore year, you realize just how small this school is, and how your moral compass has dwindled to some prehistoric version of a sun dial. The longer you attend this school, the lines between right and wrong blur, and you are stumbling along in some amphetamine and alcohol induced state hoping that you are doing at least what you think is right.
The next morning, I sit on my front porch, enjoying a cigarette, and watch as elderly couples and families dressed in their best, walk into church. There moral compasses are due north, or at least you'd hope. Sometimes, on Sundays, I sit for hours outside smoking cigarettes and laugh at myself, or memories of the night before. I often wonder what it would be like to be normal, to be up and sober for church at 10:30 am. I haven't attended a church service since my junior year of high school, and certainly wasn't sober at a service since I was 13. I think of the other half of the Otterbein student population, and what they did the night before. Watch the latest season of Glee on Netflix? Study? What does Kathy Krendl do on a Saturday night? Where does her moral compass point?
I don't mean to be so negative tonight. It's just been a long day.
xoxo TO
Saturday, February 25, 2012
The Saturday Morning CC Visit
Oh Saturday mornings. Hangovers. Yeah great.
I love going to the Campus Center hung over or just all out stoned. The food is never good unless it's a visit day, when Otterbein tries to convince families and potential students that it's a great school to attend. Poor bastards. Little do they know their decision would be equivalent to selling their soul to the devil, only this time it's Kathy Krendl.
This morning is no different, same shitty food. I walk to meet a friend who swipes me in. Why do I go if the food sucks? Who gives a shit, I'm hung over and have no food at home. CC it is.
Weekend mornings are a treat to the people watchers and the creepers. Half the students sitting there are in my same miserable state, hung over and trying their hardest not to projectile vomit the cheesy eggs.The other half are just the normal students, up and at 'em. Probably going back to their dorms later to study, or pray, or... something. I forget sometimes that there are normal people out there, normal hard working students who wouldn't have ecstasy, marijuana, or cocaine turn up positive on a piss test. Normal people who don't even drink, and have no desire to. I never will understand that. As much as I consider throwing myself off a cliff every hangover, I look forward to a well desired 40 oz from the Bope or a Ray Jay shot at Jimmy V's. I have a lot of issues to suppress, and alcohol is a great friend of people with issues.
I sit down with some good friends, and begin to recount the night from the bits and pieces we do remember of our journey to Long Street bar in downtown Columbus. One of the girls fell off the table she was dancing on numerous times and is covered in bruises. Her boyfriend shakes his head as she tells the story. Everyone else just laughs. I then begin to tell the story of running off to find one of my underaged friends puking just around the corner of two cop cars outside the club, then we convince the cops to help us get back into the club through side door. Tax money hard at work ladies and gentlemen.
As we laugh at how ridiculously wasted we all were, we learn of one of our close friends getting an underage last night. This, of course, is following her finishing her court appearances after getting a DUI. She's only 18. To some people, she might need help. Counseling even. To us, we blame the cops. She will be fine though, she's got a good lawyer.
Any given Saturday morning would probably find us in the same spot, telling a similar tale.
I love going to the Campus Center hung over or just all out stoned. The food is never good unless it's a visit day, when Otterbein tries to convince families and potential students that it's a great school to attend. Poor bastards. Little do they know their decision would be equivalent to selling their soul to the devil, only this time it's Kathy Krendl.
This morning is no different, same shitty food. I walk to meet a friend who swipes me in. Why do I go if the food sucks? Who gives a shit, I'm hung over and have no food at home. CC it is.
Weekend mornings are a treat to the people watchers and the creepers. Half the students sitting there are in my same miserable state, hung over and trying their hardest not to projectile vomit the cheesy eggs.The other half are just the normal students, up and at 'em. Probably going back to their dorms later to study, or pray, or... something. I forget sometimes that there are normal people out there, normal hard working students who wouldn't have ecstasy, marijuana, or cocaine turn up positive on a piss test. Normal people who don't even drink, and have no desire to. I never will understand that. As much as I consider throwing myself off a cliff every hangover, I look forward to a well desired 40 oz from the Bope or a Ray Jay shot at Jimmy V's. I have a lot of issues to suppress, and alcohol is a great friend of people with issues.
I sit down with some good friends, and begin to recount the night from the bits and pieces we do remember of our journey to Long Street bar in downtown Columbus. One of the girls fell off the table she was dancing on numerous times and is covered in bruises. Her boyfriend shakes his head as she tells the story. Everyone else just laughs. I then begin to tell the story of running off to find one of my underaged friends puking just around the corner of two cop cars outside the club, then we convince the cops to help us get back into the club through side door. Tax money hard at work ladies and gentlemen.
As we laugh at how ridiculously wasted we all were, we learn of one of our close friends getting an underage last night. This, of course, is following her finishing her court appearances after getting a DUI. She's only 18. To some people, she might need help. Counseling even. To us, we blame the cops. She will be fine though, she's got a good lawyer.
Any given Saturday morning would probably find us in the same spot, telling a similar tale.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Welcome to the Mess
Well, here it goes.
I'm just going to start off by giving some basic, relatively known, or even unknown, facts about Otterbein.
There are roughly 3,000 students enrolled. In comparison to our neighbor, Ohio State University, we are teensy tiny. There are more girls than guys, and more gay guys that straight ones. Blame the theatre program for that stat.
Majority of the students are from neighboring towns and cities. The other half is from far out of state, alot of Texans it seems. No wonder they came here, a gay from Texas? Don't blame you. Columbus is very much a gay friendly city. So welcome.
Otterbein is generally a friendly community. There is a place for everyone, from the overly righteous Bible thumpers to the football players who drink and smoke way too much weed to the nerd who would like to spend more time in the library or in their dorm. Is everyone accepted? Hardly. Tolerated? Definitely.
Yes, there does happen to be a Greek community here. It's quite brilliant, all locally started, except one that claims to be part of a national frat. Whatever. Each fraternity and sorority does typically have their own "stereotype". It's annoying to talk about, but they all are relatively true. That will be saved for another day.
Kathy Krendl, our oh so beloved President, I kind of want to throw something at her every time she walks by. I can't tell if she's doing a good job or not, I'm too focused the OPD patrolling campus like it's a God damn police state. Thank you Krendlkins. In the three years I have attended this school, I have yet to see a specific need for any sort of police force here on campus, but apparently we students aren't anything but pot smoking hooligans and want to drink and pillage the perfectly manicured neighborhoods for sex and drugs. Oh wait, that's kind of true.
Well that's my intro. I'm off to a track meet to support my best friend, and at the same time hate myself for not being nearly at anatomically perfect as half the participants.
xoxo T O
I'm just going to start off by giving some basic, relatively known, or even unknown, facts about Otterbein.
There are roughly 3,000 students enrolled. In comparison to our neighbor, Ohio State University, we are teensy tiny. There are more girls than guys, and more gay guys that straight ones. Blame the theatre program for that stat.
Majority of the students are from neighboring towns and cities. The other half is from far out of state, alot of Texans it seems. No wonder they came here, a gay from Texas? Don't blame you. Columbus is very much a gay friendly city. So welcome.
Otterbein is generally a friendly community. There is a place for everyone, from the overly righteous Bible thumpers to the football players who drink and smoke way too much weed to the nerd who would like to spend more time in the library or in their dorm. Is everyone accepted? Hardly. Tolerated? Definitely.
Yes, there does happen to be a Greek community here. It's quite brilliant, all locally started, except one that claims to be part of a national frat. Whatever. Each fraternity and sorority does typically have their own "stereotype". It's annoying to talk about, but they all are relatively true. That will be saved for another day.
Kathy Krendl, our oh so beloved President, I kind of want to throw something at her every time she walks by. I can't tell if she's doing a good job or not, I'm too focused the OPD patrolling campus like it's a God damn police state. Thank you Krendlkins. In the three years I have attended this school, I have yet to see a specific need for any sort of police force here on campus, but apparently we students aren't anything but pot smoking hooligans and want to drink and pillage the perfectly manicured neighborhoods for sex and drugs. Oh wait, that's kind of true.
Well that's my intro. I'm off to a track meet to support my best friend, and at the same time hate myself for not being nearly at anatomically perfect as half the participants.
xoxo T O
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)