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.

Well, it's been a while. No, its not because I've been lynched, tarred and feathered and left to roast in the baking sun; but rather the "O" key on my keyboard is broken and I have had a metric fuck-tonne of work to do. Oh yeah, and I went to the new Dallas Cowboys staduim, which effectively shat upon all other stadii I have ever visited. More of this later.

Firstly, I have to report something a saw posted on numerous walls in the library; R-word awareness week.

What retarded photoshop skills

Yes that's right, it is indeed a campaign to erase the word retarded from our vocabulary. What a ridiculous idea; I am already fully aware of retards. Ok, that was a cheap joke; but this campaign bothered me on deeper levels. For starters, the whole campaign just reeked of trivialization and patronization of the disabled. I mean, why spend large amounts of time raising awareness of a term people already know as being mildly offensive (hence its use as an insult) when you could actually be working with and for the disabled through charities and such?

Philosophy aside, their site - http://therword.org/ is full of unintentional hilarity. The first paragraph sets a scene where two guys in Walmart were overheard saying “I don’t know why they let people like that live.” on the subject of a disabled 8 year old. Well, what where they expecting? This was in WALMART for christsakes, where the average patron has at least two teeth missing and a brain swiss cheesed from too much moonshine.

They then go on to badly miss the satire in Tropic Thunder, compare the usage of the word to the Holocaust and lynchings and then, finally, to play their trump card... MENTALLY DISABLED BAREKNUCKLE BOXING IN NONE OTHER THAN TEXAS. At that point, my mind just gave up and I laughed at the absudtity of a good ol' organzied 'tard fight.

Also, It's funny that the R-Word movement would gather momentum particularly in Texas, a state which has no trouble whatsover in executing them! /end cheap jokes.

The mighty Aggies play at the Cowboy Stadium

Yes, I went to go watch A&M get completely dismantled by the inbreds of Arkansas at the brand new Cowboys Stadium. Let me start by saying that tailgating (pregame drinking and bbq) is always fun. Yet some people take tailgating to new levels- one group had an entire pig smoking on some ridiculous contraption.

It also must be noted that only in America could the worlds largest HD T.V be put in a sporting arena in such a way that most people are watching it, rather than the live action happening down on the field. Don't believe me? Look for yourselves;

Things I've seen and done

I have done a plethora of new things in Texas; some of them have been particularly Texan, some particular to the American college experience and all of them hilarious.

Dip

Dip or chewing tobacco is categorically the most disgusting thing I've done here. Firstly, you look like an inbred with a grotesque chin tumour retaining the benefit of having a literal shit eating grin. Secondly, if you end up swallowing the thick brown sludge, you will vomit. Dip does not take any prisoners.

Moonshine

I've got a bottle of the proper stuff back in my truck, proposed the hillbilly.

No, this was not the opening scene to a Texan remake of deliverance. This was a casual Friday night at the the Sigma Chi frat house.

For something brewed in some random redneck's uncle's garage ( known locally as a carhole) and teetering dangerously close to 100%abv, it didn't taste too bad. I remeber very little of the night post homebrew consumption

The best mode of transport ever

There are some contraptions in this world that make you stop and think Why the hell didn't I think of that first. I'm talking about things like the zip, or maybe this shoe.

Well today I saw someone riding the grandaddy of ridiculous (and red neck) contraptions. Behold the beer cooler scooter:



I saw this thing going a steady four miles an hour DOWN A MAIN ROAD, DURING THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY. He then preceded to get his drunk ass pulled over by the cops. I simply cannot make this shit up.

It's like Jerry Garcia in a pouch, man.

Wow, what a week.

I will remember this week for a very long time, maybe my entire life. It was the week that I finally went to a full on, backwards cap, polo shirt wearing MOTHERFUCKING FRAT PARTY. At first, I didn't think I could handle it. The red cups, the bellowing, the relentless beer chugging. I thought I was about to do a fucking scanners. A fucking scanners, man.

But I was no loose cannon. I pulled it back and pounded enough Keystone light to make even the the most weathered Chad, Brad, or Cody feel inadequate. And as I couldn't possibly do this level of funny justice, I took my camera along.

Class

I won't regale you lot with my classes (they are all pretty much awesome) except for one; creative writing.

The professor struts and bobs into the room. Shit he looks familiar. Then it hits me; he looks identical to 60 year old Jerry Garcia. Things were about to get ridiculous.

Rocks and Islands, man.

I'm deadly serious, we started off with a discussion of the usage of metaphor in various 70s rock songs.

I am a rock, I am an island he proclaimed, quoting a famous Simon and Garfunkel song.
"
Wouldn't it be awesome if they played the song dressed like a rock and an island?" mused the professor, laughing at his own statement for the best part of twenty seconds. No one else laughed.

My god I thought, this man has consumed more drugs in his life time then all of the children's T.V presenters of the 40 years put together. And then some more.

People say the darndest things.

There's nothing better than laughing at someone when they've just said something ridiculously moronic. Well actually, maybe midgets; they really tickle me pink. Being surrounded by freshmen, I have had to laugh internally on many occasions.

Here is a sample of some of the conversations that I have had over the last week:

girl, on seeing my guitar: Hey, so do play guitar?
me: No, It's actually just for show.
her: oh...

What I really should have said was No, I actually only use to to appear cool and thus to lure girls into my sex den. After I lure them to said sex den, I tend to use duct tape to subdue them and then hide them in a closet for a week. After a week, they tend to smell so I throw them out.

In a similar vein, this conversation transpired with a girl on full academic scholarship.

Her: Wow, you guys have British accents. Are you from Britain?
me: No, actually I'm from the Sudan. Salaam aleikum

But my favourite exchange actually came from two of my English buddies. I will let them remain nameless to hide their shame.

Guy: It's funny that so many people speak Mexican around here.
me: Speak Mexican? Don't you mean Spanish?
girl: WHAT? They speak Spanish in Mexico?!

At that point, my palm hit my forehead with enough force to split the atom.


But I too have not been immune from the tomfoolery bug, as shown by what I wrote on somebody's white board down my corridor: