Thoughts on leaving College Station

I have finished my year long tenure at Texas A&M University, and as a fitting send off I tried my hand at the ring dunk. The ring dunk is traditionally done at the beginning of senior year, where students have to earn their aggie ring in the most mainly way possible short of strangling a bear for fun- by chugging a fuckton of beer. This metric fuckton of beer, or a pitcher in layman’s terms, took me around 50 seconds to drink.

The first forty seconds were smooth sailing. Well, if burping back into a drink you’re drinking is considered smooth. Around the 30 second mark I started to feel nausea. By 40 seconds that nausea had turned into full blow panic nausea, which is only experienced by weak flyers and those who are lactose intolerant at a frat hazing session. I finished the chug victorious. A bloated, vomiting inebriated victorious at that. You can view the video here

On a more serious note, my year here in Texas has probably been the best in my life. It’s given me opportunities to do stuff that I’d never thought I‘d do. I finally got my own radio show. I saw Vegas. I started to write. And I even managed to convince a girl to have sex with me more than once. This year has also given me motivation to not be complacent in my final year of university. Hopefully I will get around to forming the Victorian society in all its absinthe tea party glory.

I’ve had great teaching this year. On the off chance that they’re reading this I’d like to thank David Myers and John Tyler for helping me to expand the breadth of my knowledge and to realize that higher education isn’t just about drinking and disgusting sex. Your enthusiasm, passion and effort will be sorely missed next year.

Oh yeah, and I also learnt the true value of the beer pong slam dunk:

Redcoat Gets Arrested (Nearly)

I made a prophecy at the beggining of the year and well, last night it was fulfilled. Now I'm a fairly law abiding citizen, I do not get into fights or steal things. But I do like to get inebriated. And if that's a crime, then I'm guilty as charged. Unfortunately in the United States being drunk under the age of 21 IS a crime for some reason or another. I blame the Christians.

I'm not sure if it's the pickup, my jacket or the grainy picture quality but this picture looks amazingly 70s

This small little predicament started when a gangly guy at the bar (he shall now be referred to as 'Gangly') tried to hit on a friend of mine using lines from the freakin' Game. Come on Gangly, everyone and their mothers has read that book. So I did what any normal human being would have done; I laughed in his face. This move had got me in trouble once before where this guy threatened to beat me up, but that's an entirely different story all together. Gangly responds negatively by getting into my face, his hopes of scoring sweet, sweet ass dashed by my daring mocks. I stood my ground because well, I was approaching blackout drunk. Gangly then hollers over to a nearby policeman, telling him that I was overly intoxicated. Firstly, who the hell starts an altercation and then calls the cops over. Secondly, WHAT THE HELL were cops doing patrolling a bar? (Note. apparently, this is normal procedure in the bigger bars/ glorified shacks). I swear if I ever see that guy again, I am going to kick him in the balls from behind and run away. Because you know, he probably has a gun of sorts.



The police officer led me outside, trying to encourage me to bring my beer outside (this would have encriminated me further and resulted in a bigger fine). I declined, and left the frosty Bud on a table.
Now the following diaglogue is completely real and verified by a sober witness (Note: Obviously I had to change some details for legal reasons. I'm not that dumb people.). The cop in question was young, uptight and full of douche.



COP: Ok Mr Jenkins, what's your first name? (I was using an ID I had found)
REDCOAT: James (At this point I was swaying slightly)
COP: And your middle name?
RED: Er Fuck, w.. Fuck Pet..


I can't remember the middle name on the ID. But wait. Now I remember, there is no middle name. The stupid cop is obviously trying to trap me. I proudly announce this with as much swarve as I could possible muster:


COP: It says here 'Benjamin'. Now where are you from Mr. Jenkins?
RED: England. Yeah, wait fuck. Ah fuck. Sorry officer, pardon my French
COP: So wait, now you're telling me you're French?
RED: Ah, no. It's an figure of speech.
COP: What's your address?
At this point I started to become incredibly annoyed. I couldn't understand why my accent hadn't got me off the hook. I didn't know what I was still doing there. I wanted to go home and pass out face-down.
RED: It's in England, what the hell does it matter to you?
COP: You do know this is all being recorded (He gestured to a small audio recorder clipped on to his belt)
RED: Can I have a copy of the tape for novelty purposes?

He rejected my request.

At this point I pretty much blacked out. A witness mentioned how I called the cop a fag under my breath after accusing me of being French. Luckily, he chose not to arrest me for it-- Thanks first amendment! But I did get slapped with a $480 fine. That very $480 could have paid for my trip to Arizona (ASU! ASU!), ten bottles of premium whiskey or TWO of these:

That's an outdoor kitchen to you uncultured baffoons out there

I also got to go to the municiple court house, a place filled with reprobates. Actually, playing match the person to the crime was sort of entertaining.

New Semester, same old.

I've been back in Texas for a week now after a month long refreshing stay in London. Which was nice, as it allowed me to have a month off of the grease and pig snout diet I have come to know and love over here in Texas. Seriously, I would take a nap after a particularly greasy hamburger and wake up with a face caked in a reflective sheen.

I will also miss my classes from last semester, as they were a mixture of highly interesting and downright hilarious. I have already mentioned my creative writing class before, but I failed to mention the fact that towards the end of the semester, we had to review each other’s stories. A favorite game of mine was to read the story and match a name to the face. The weirder and creepier the story, the weirder and creepier the person involved. And believe me, there was creepiness.

It also got pretty brutal towards the end where previously watered down critiques gave way to abuse and mockery. Obviously I preferred the latter, chiming in as often as possible.

Unfortunately that's all I've got for now. But I promise to keep churning out blog posts despite the fact that my laptop is missing the 'o' key and turns itself off with the slightest of movement. And I still don't have health insurance, so hopefully I don't get hit by a pickup truck in the next couple of days.

Oh, and one final post script. My radio will be returning extremely soonish, so stay tuned (literally)! And as a taster, check out The Strange Boys. They're awesome.