The Home of Keeping it Real

Allow me to expand your social network by introducing you to my old friend pubic hair

2007-02-05T23:00:00.000-08:00

More erotic then a low single shot into deep penetration that is countered by a reach around to a butt drag, More Humorous then the freestyle wrestling references you don’t understand, it’s the life and times of semi competitive Inner Tube Water Polo Hero Jamie Michaels. Well kids it’s been a busy month. As you may already know being both a master of organizational skills and time management my decision to undertake a few extracurricular activities this new semester was a well thought out and carefully orchestrated plan. If you actually know me you would probably know that I spend the majority of my time incoherently wandering through life with my brain simultaneously attempting to realize where I am, where I should be, why neither of those places ever seems to be class, what the lyrics to Forgot about Dre are, and if a system of state socialism that promotes the equal distribution of essential services and state wealth is more ethical then a system of government that may repress the proletariat but ultimately offers a wider horizon for the freedom of the individual to pursue happiness within the confines of the system, It is usually around this time that I realize simultaneously that I am somewhat confused that I was not able to get into first year political science and that during this discombobulated excuse for a thought process I have unwittingly signed up for another extra curricular event that is beyond my current means of participating In.

It is this series of events that leads us to my current gong show of a life. Perhaps some would say that I lacked foresight in going to school on a varsity wrestling scholarship where practices are mandatory every weekday, signing up for five classes, Volunteering for an antipoverty group, Playing on a residence dodge ball team, Becoming a University of Alberta Athletics Board Athlete Representative, playing on a semi competitive inner tube water polo team, Trying to help organize a silent auction for Sports Central, Training in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and attempting to run for a position working for residence which I will otherwise be unable to afford to live in was a choice I put little thought into. By the time you have finished reading this paragraph I have become a member of an ultimate Frisbee league. However despite my usual copious amount of cerebral planning I had neglected to realize one important detail, when you live in residence the weekend begins on Thursday and ends on Monday. Now initially this was not a problem the extra days off gave me time to work on my sweet dance moves and read Hunter S. Thompson novels. However the good times did not roll when I discovered that the majority of university professors to not acknowledge the 2 day work week. This unfortunate development has prompted a frantic attempt to preserve what remains of my academic term.

I enjoy this photo thoroughly it's like "where's Waldo?" for the challenged (Waldo being myslef)

As much as I enjoy residence, from the paintball fights in the lounge to the week long tower competitions where no one goes to class or sleeps. I have a feeling that it may not prove to be the most conducive environment to learning. My roommate who I have recently become acquainted with is a Chinese exchange who goes by Donald. He is substantially more studious then myself. Our relationship so far is peachy keen except for one minor discrepancy, Donald never got off of fucking Beijing time. The fact that we live close enough to each bring a girl home and high-five across our beds while going at it (an idea Donald is so far opposed to) is compounded by the fact that I wake up roughly when he goes to bed. I also fall asleep to the sounds of him playing world of warcraft, I’m also fairly confident he’s not in any classes as normally they are traditionally held during the day. In an effort to expand the multiculturalism of my peer group I decided to bring Donald out for a night of given’er. The night begins well with a lesson in principles of shotgunning, perhaps to well, Donald is completely done by the time we get back to residence, we misplace him on our way to a party on the 3^rd floor. I wander back to my room in the wee hours of the morning to find Donald drunker then a (insert racial stereotype here) at an (insert humorous location where alcohol is consumed in liberal quantities) sitting at his computer playing world of warcraft. I guess you can take the level twelve druid spell caster out of the enchanted forests of mystery but you can’t take enchanted forests of mystery out of the level 12 druid, (with the exception of finding the gauntlets of relocation.)

In the exciting world of semi competitive campus recreation The Inner Tube Water Polo season got off to a rough start with our team entering the playoffs without having ever won a single game. Having based the majority of my second and third year university expenditures on becoming the recipient of an inner tube water polo Xyience endorsement deal it was time to step it up. I arrived at the game but was shocked to realize that I did not own a swimsuit; I was also shocked to realize that I had failed to realize this during the duration of the season. With the game underway we concluded the first half only down by 10 points, they were falling right into our trap. I took to the net knowing that my catlike reflexes and unparalleled coordination would enable our entire team to play offense, the perfect strategy. However I was forced to pity my own foolishness (something that leading foolologists had previously believed impossible) because soccer shorts without draw strings are not advantageous to jumping vertically from a pool. The first female opposition player to shoot on the net expanded her social network when I introduced her to my old friend pubic hair. The next shooter was unfortunate enough to also encounter not only pubic hair but his good friend penis shaft. Being the gentleman that I am I played the duration of the match with one hand holding up my shorts. Luckily our team soon left the pool after our captain was disqualified by forcibly inserting the inner tube water polo ball into another players face. After the game during the customary handshake of non disqualified campus rec participants the rival teams goal keeper inquired as to whether pubic hair or shaft had facebook, not as of yet.

The conclusion of res games provides a much needed break from sleep deprivation, Highlights include the homemade bomb set off in an attempt to get a player holding a cup of water to spill it without making physical contact. If any mere mortal had been holding a cup of water during a bomb exploding hard enough to shake paint chips off of the ceiling they might have spilled, or called the police, but Jamie Michaels? Bitch please, get a real job. I also enjoyed watching some of the best and brightest minds in one of Canada’s top schools ride a recycling bin down the stairs or a scooter through a window. Stay Classy Lister.

In recent not selling out news I’ve shaved the international symbol of revolution into my chest hair. Im gangster that way. Anyhow Im gonna caller for now. Don’t believe the hype. Respect, Jamie.

Liveing in conditions reminiscent of what it would be like if a rhinoceros attempted to rape a clown in the middle of a Christmas display

2007-01-22T02:56:00.000-08:00

“Fire!”, “Earth!”, “Water!”, “Wind!”, “Heart!” (In extremely high pitched and possibly gender confused voice) With you powers combined I am Jamie Michaels! A great man once told me “your not hardcore unless you live hardcore, in these last few weeks hardcore was lived. Since even my incredible literary prowess on the field of intellectual battle cannot sum up how many wicked awesome things happened this Break I’ll do my best to just capture some of the high points. But I want to shoot out something that I learned this break. One day you and everyone you have ever known will be dead. This statement would be incredibly more menacing if I could say it in a raspy smokers voice, Pull up my hood, extend my right arm straight out, have a raven descend onto it, ruffle its feathers, open its beak and go “CAW”. And then have me leave whatever building I was in with a crack of thunder and an onslaught of rain. If I ever figure out a way to perform the prior scenario I would probably use it to break up parties I had not been invited to. But digressing back to my past point you’re not living for ever so get busy givne’r.

This winter break started the way most do; I was greeted at the airport by family, friends and adult oriented pornography. If men had emotions I would have probably displayed some. This was closely followed to a trip to the village. I arrived just in time to arrive late enough to look at a menu, talk to a waitress look back to the menu realize my extremely debonair companion Steve Currie had strategically placed pornography over the top of my menu. The waitress was luckily enamored with my masculine charms and forgave this slight dining breach of protocol.

As My infallibale ADD and poor sense of time managment has caused this article to be written well past midnight many weeks past winter break the following account may be somewhat fragmented and may contain traces of Gonzo.: Winter Break. Cold. Sam Robinson is offered to drink an entire bottle of hot sauce at Carlos and Murphy’s for 20$. He finishes it, I am mildly impressed. His eyes light up with the half crazed glint of a man who has just finished several glasses of draft beer and a bottle of hot sauce and is about to go play a game of ultimate Frisbee. My eyes light up with the shine of knowing I don’t have any money to pay the bastard. He seems unfazed and leaves without paying the tab. Well played.

Now I’m sitting in a car with the usual bunch of idiots driving through the bitter night we may or may not have been looking for street signs to steal. We are a Frenchman, a Jew, A honky, and a Blackman armed with some wrenches, two cans of spray paint, and a graffiti stencil of a naked man sporting a peculiar Mohawk with sideburns, the united nations of disorganized crime. Signs are removed based on a critical fore planning using a meticulous selection of results from the first three pages of a Google image search of “Winnipeg signs” and words that make us express amusement. The laughter of wasted youth and the singing hiss of aerosol is the music of the night. Shit that sounds bad ass, I should be a writer or something. We stop at burger king drive through we have several whoppers and some milkshakes to obtain. We discover they do not serve milkshakes after 2. After a heated debate we return to BK to ask the late night manager if they did serve milkshakes would they bring all the boys to the yard? He seems unsure and goes to the back, likely to consult the manual of the milkshake maker for clarification. But we are busy men and are off into the night once again. It is around 2 am when I am struck by an epiphany, you know what would be funnier then stealing signs, switching them. A great success.

New years remains fairly uneventful. Not!. I rarely drink, being an individual who believes that activities should almost exclusively be performed all or nothing alcohol consumption can be a bit of a gong show. I remember getting to the party, the rest is of the evening is pieced together from my own hazy memory construed of photos and the recounts of friends. It went something like this. Drinking. Speaking in voices louder then necessary for the designated social setting. Dancing. Poorly. Come to think of it extremely poorly, I must have looked something like a punch drunk Donkey Kong hopped up mushrooms. I have a large set of wooden cutlery although I can’t figure out why. I go to find out why sexy back is no longer playing. I chase a peculiar stranger into the front street for punching a whole in the houses drywall. I confront him while trying to tie my shoes, I hope will not get kicked in the face. A large verbal confrontation occurs , it makes little sense, the property damage is agreed to be paid for, I doubt it ever will. I realize my plane is leaving and call my father in a desperate attempt to make it to the airport. I do, barely. I wake up in Calgary wearing a hat that does not belong to me.

I arrived in Edmonton disheveled and hungry, so naturally it was a perfect time for a 10 block walk with my luggage from the sky shuttle stop. I was getting ready to gear up for a week of hardcore wrestling camp, three wrestling sessions a day of h-core grappling. I arrived at wrestling practice with my mouth guard and wrestling shoes but I had a terrible feeling I was forgetting something. Oh yeah, athleticism. shit. The next week is mostly a blur. I moved into residence, I foresee it being some of the most enjoyable, unhygienic and perception altering months I will enjoy in the new year. I meet my floor mates the day I move in. they are huddled in a half circle around the TV in clothes I can only guess how long they’ve been wearing. The floor is reminiscent of what it would be like if a rhinoceros attempted to rape a clown in the middle of a Christmas display. It’s terribly humorous in a disgusting sort of way. Stale gingerbread, Christmas ornaments, and enough garbage and Styrofoam containers to make me wonder if someone has gone to the effort of actually going to 7-11s to collect trash and dump it out on the floor is lightly sprinkled with pine needles to give it that holiday ambiance. As I walk to my room a heated argument on whose turn it is to change the channel quickly erodes into a heated gingerbread fight. Needless to say I join in. Well It’s 4 Am on Monday morning, I will leave for class at 7 so I’m seriously considering hitting the hay. Never Sell Out. Respect, -JM

Seriously think that If I smelled a croissant right now I think I’d probablley pop wood.

2006-12-06T00:16:00.000-08:00

Shalom Aleichem,

It has been an eventful couple of weeks in the E-dot. Last weekend featured seven
Stabbings, two of them fatal, one seven blocks from my house. Disrespect. Naturally this regrettable turn of events only prompted me to further explore Edmonton’s night life.
But before I could go out I would have to complete a week of what those in higher echelon academic circles currently refer to as “University”. A fair compromise, Unfortunate. This brings us to news from the world of academia: Religion class is mildly interesting, even the parts I’m awake for. The start of class is pretty sweet when I’m Spiderman who can for no particular reason fly and is fighting Nazi’s with the Pope who can throw bolts of lightning, just like in real life. (The Nazi’s always get owned they can’t handle the combined force of the lightning bolts and spider webs, bitches). Things usually go downhill right around the end of the first half hour when I wake up and realize I’m learning about Buddha who I might add has never battled the evil shock troopers of the third Reich (Pussy)

English class by far is one of my favorites. I was in a class on Wednesday that was going well until I received back my first essay in which I may have quoted Mr. T. throughout the essay and possibly in the title. I received a B+. This is unacceptable as well as historically inaccurate. Mr. T. was clearly a member of the A-team. Any professor should be a able to instantly realize that any piece of academia citing such a well known and important scholar of the twentieth centaury who in addition to being one of the coolest human beings alive, provides all of the necessary grading information about papers referencing him in the name of his organization. There was problem. No one else could help. If I could find them I might be able to hire….After taking a small breather to regain my coherency I realized that a B+ was an alright grade and I defiantly didn’t have the financial resources to travel to the LA underground to hire the A-team.

After an eventful day of classes it was time to unwind with a little introduction to microeconomics. Now for most part economics classes are filled with semi interesting idea’s that somehow turn into terrible graphs that demonstrate scenarios that apparently never happen. But by the time you figure out most of the graphs don’t actually show you anything you can ever remotely hope to use anywhere the withdrawal deadline has past. Crafty economics department. One article of interest in this particular economics class is a disproportionate amount of mustaches. Only this constant hope that the class will suddenly break into a series of swordfights keeps me in semi regular attendance. I’m pretty sure people with mustaches swordfight although I’m not sure why.

After another week of the grind over and done with it was givn’er time. I headed ‘er over to Whyte av. for an evening of adventure. After getting absolutely destroyed in a game of billiards I headed down to bar wild to get my dance on. It should be noted that I left home with no money as I had run out around the middle of November. I’m so hungry. If you have any trace of humanity left in your soul you’ll mail me some cookies. Seriously If I smelled a croissant right now I’d probabley pop wood. Anyhow I got to the bar sober with only my ruggedly handsome good looks, and overwhelming presence of awesomeness to work with, Luckily this was enough for people who were cool enough to hang out with me to purchase copious amounts of alcohol for mutual consumption. Good times. Well I was crunk’d, dancing poorly, and when the opportunity afforded itself occasionally pretending to be a dinosaur and intruding on photos. All was well in the world. Then, since its Edmonton and no one can have a good time with trying to assault someone else with a weapon a good old bar brawl broke out. Now due to the fact that there were multiple participants and I was busy laughing and being held back from joining in, I can only recount a fractured portion of the events. It went down something like this: a few guys start trading punches. Bouncers start to lay some beats down. For no apparent reason five people run out of the bar yelling and laughing. Then someone starts to reach into his breast pocket. Someone else Yells: “He’s Got a Gun” Now I was pretty sure that this guy didn’t have a gun. If I was a betting man I would guess it was a cell phone so he could take a picture and maybe write his own inferior quality blog entry about it. Well regardless of the fact that I didn’t think it was a gun the two bouncers that were beating on the guys head like he was a red headed step child.

After leaving the bar scene a few hours later and winking at a police officer while be patted me down on the way back in when I went back for my coat, We were off for a quiet stab free walk home. But wait my spider senses were tingling, there was trouble a brewing . Two guys were chasing a homeless man out of a Donair shop and were going to beat him up. Disrespect, It was time for drastic measures I brought out the T-hawk and put on my ass whopping face, which at the time was drunk glazed over half smile. Then going for intimidation I said “He guys let’s all just be friends stepped in between them put my arm around the homeless guy and walked down the street. I’m a champ.

Anyhow I’ve put of finishing this blog for like two weeks. I just ate food again which was wonderful, I’ve never felt so much empathy for hungry hungry hippos. I’m gonna try to keep you guys up to date as much as possible but I’m getting into exam season soon, by which I mean tomorrow, I’ve sat down and studied in a library for the first time since someone was kind enough to show me where one is, and I have a paper worth 40 percent due In about 7 hours. Also as an athletic representative I’ve just been given 40 bar passes to give out to my friends in an attempt by the university of Alberta the further encourage our most successful athletes to become intoxicated and attempt to reproduce and create the next generation of champions. So I’m off to try to get my life together. Get high off of hugs, not drugs. Respect, -Jamie

Fuck you Deported Chinese Robots, show yourselves cowards.

2006-11-16T00:57:00.000-08:00

Word,
Strange things are afoot at the Michaels-Thacher household. First and Foremost there has been little sign of our Chinese landlords for the past month. At first I assumed nothing was out of the ordinary. One could even say that I was taking advantage of their perceived absence. One might even go as far as to say we were blatantly flaunting our disregard of the terms of our lease. Rumors have even been started that up to six people may have slept at our 2 tenant accommodations for an extended period of time. Currently however these rumors continue to remain unverified and we remain un-evicted. However after an exceeding amount of time has passed I am beginning to formulate theories as to their whereabouts. My initial thoughts led me to sum up the factors previous to their absence: 1) The heat in our home is rarely, if ever on, 2) Our Landlords have given us apples from the trees in their garden therefore proving they have no need for food, 3) No one has yet seen our hosts during the winter months. After summing up these obvious factors there remains one obvious conclusion. My Landlords are Robots. However being Robots attempting the maintain a human façade one would assume that they would maintain the pretense of making the casual appearances around the house and perhaps on occasion turning up the fucking heat. Following this strand of logical reasoning something must have happened to this robot apple gifting couple who provide monthly housing at affordable rates. All of a sudden it became obvious having been created in China and not yet having the proper north American voice chips modifications installed they has been interred by the Canadian government and promptly deported.

The last few continuity lacking paragraphs may appear somewhat arbitrary. However in light of recent developments it is absolutely essential that I locate the landlord. You ever see the movie mousetrap? It’s kind of like that but not at all a comedy. Steven initially discovered the mouse in the washroom where it mistook him for a potential mate. A surprisingly reoccurring scenario.
However throughout the entrie course of human history man and rodent have failed to coexist and as such I would have to locate this mouse and dispose of it. It came time for me to hatch a plan to outwit said rodent. I had decided upon a cunning plan: I would turn a crank which in turn would rotate the gears causing a lever to move and push the stop sign against the shoe which will therefore tip the bucket holding the metal ball which will then roll down the stairs and into the pipe which leads it to hit the rod held by the hands , causing the bowling ball to fall from the top of the rod, roll down the groove , fall into and then out of the bottom of the bathtub , landing on the diving board . The weight of the bowling ball catapults the diver through the air and right into the bucket, causing the cage to fall from the top of the post and trap the unsuspecting mouse. Mousetrap. Check Mate Bitch. However in the midst of building my trap I was interrupted by an attorney representing Hasbro Games who informed me I would have to investigate in another mouse trapping stratagem. Luckily being a licensed Manitoba fur trapper I was not without plans of my own. After getting together some bait and preparing my screwdriver and IKEA hammer I drank a cup of stakeout tea and settled in for the long run. It’s gonna be a battle of wits and at the end of it I’m gonna blow out your fucking brains with a hammer.

Anyhow I’m settling in for the long run. So a big PETA shout out to all my hommies. Respect, -Jamie

Wrestling, Alcohol, Bitches, are you not entertained?

2006-11-13T16:50:00.000-08:00

Word to my Hommies,
I have recently returned from wrestling in Vancouver in my first International tournament. I regretfully inform you that half of my team in fact , did not survive. However our intrepid hero fought valiantly against all odds to capture a 4th place finish in the 80kg weight class. For the purposes of clarification it should be mentioned that the majority of my victories where achieved in true championship fashion, namely freak injuries sustained by my opponents moments before we wrestled. Good times. Results can be viewed here: http://www.themat.com/results.php?page=display_results_style&ResultID=100756

The tournament ran the way the majority of wrestling tournaments do with hundreds of sweaty, grumpy, hungry guys in spandex suits waiting to hop on a scale hoping to trick their bodies into thinking that there lighter then they are after dropping incredible amounts of weight ( the ten pounds I dropped was considered nothing). They then sprint to the parking lot and race to the nearest pasta restaurant. Statistically speaking after every wrestling tournament there is a minimum of one fatal automobile accident and 2 Italian pasta chefs killed. (That’s why Italians refer to the Olympic games hosted in 1960 as “the summer of black linguini” with over a quarter of its pasta making population killed in the aftermath of the Olympic weigh inns.) Wrestlers then proceed to wander back to there host hotels high on calories to enjoy a quiet evening of assaulting bellboys and breaking furniture before going out for a second dinner.

Being the intellectual powerhouse that I am I decided that I would wait for my second dinner to come to me. Inevitably there will be pizza ordered to one of the wrestling team’s rooms. When the pizza arrived it would be my responsibility to out wit either the delivery man or the pizza recipient. However I would need to maintain an aura of diplomacy around me because the wrestling community still has not recovered from the infamous events of a pizza delivery man being severely assaulted and robbed after refusing to yield to the request of “I’m a wrestler give me some mo fucking pizza”. This is unfortunately not at all a joke, and charges were filed. I entered the hotel lobby and within mere moments the pizza had arrived. I then proceeded to stealthily pursue it all the way to the room of the Regina women’s wrestling team. This proved to be fortunate as I would then use my overwhelming powers of manliness to distract them while consuming there delicious pizza. However shock would soon turn to horror as they began to resist my masculine charm. There was one factor I had failed to take into account. Lesbianism. To the selfish, pizza devouring, women molesting, fascist members of the Regina Women’s wrestling team with frozen vagina’s who were staying in room 714 of the executive inn: Fuck You. It’s called sharing. Bitches.

After the wrestling tournament ended the team attended a meeting reminding us that we actually needed to get to the airport tomorrow morning and we would leave from the hotel around 7:30. I was also reminded that the drinking age was 19. After fending off numerous assaults from my fellow wrestlers who, for no reason decided I was I need of a good beating I hopped on a train and headed for downtown Vancouver. I deiced to meet up with some friends and family in Vancouver and attempt to do all of the clichéd tourist activities in one evening: After putting my hand in the ocean, eating at trendy vegetarian restaurant, and doing copious amounts of cocaine I was ready to wind down at a local pub. After giving the doorman the customary nod wink I walked in without showing any ID. Jamie 1, Legal Drinking age 0. I woke up the next morning in my cousin’s apartment in downtown Vancouver. Making it back to the hotel 0, Alcohol 1. However I made it to the airport in time to catch my plane and not be murderd by a man with a mustache, so all things considered a great success.

Anywho I'm considerding reading myself a bit of Vonnegut, or maybe just saying I am to sound cultured, you decide. Or maybe just beating one out into Steven's milk. Life is about choices . Respect, -Jamie

Wrasslin on the Road

2006-11-01T21:29:00.000-08:00

Since I last informationed you much has transpired. First and foremost however I propose a riddle, how many Manitoba Wrestlers does it take to screw in a light bulb and win a high caliber wrestling tournament? If you were looking for the answer your out of luck because neither task was performed this weekend, however the number is defiantly greater then two. Remember that time when you were bored so you watched saved by the bell the college years? Remember when A.C. Slater was pretty much the man at high school wrestling throwing suplexes around like it was nobodies business? Then he went to college and Screech saw him get pinned during practice? And then AC Slater made him promise not to tell anyone, but he accidentally told Zack Morris anyways? It’s kind of like that, I’m AC Slater, This Blog is Screech and you’re all Zack Morris. If the preceding paragraph made little sense to you then enjoy the following spandex filled picture, then return to the 90’s and review the following episode for your own peace of mind.

Now the matches that Steve and I lost at this tournament were close ones with rounds like 1-2 and 1-1. However the score failed to record things like Stevens Separated AC that will put him off wrestling for 3 weeks. Perhaps even worse was my ruffled Mohawk from which my ego may never recover. I decided that if I couldn’t win any matches in a Canadian tournament in Calgary I would follow the logical progression of athletic development and enter my first International Freestyle Wrestling Tournament the following weekend in Vancouver. Hooray logic!

Being a wrestler with funded travel and wicked awesome perks is pretty sweet. People do your laundry after practice, pay for your school, and you can command women to make out with each other on the spot. It does however have some minor disadvantages. One of these is having to volunteer at the occasional bingo. I initially thought that combining wrestlers with old people with fragile hips for extended periods of time was in fact the worst idea ever. I briefly relented when I was confronted with the epiphany that Bingo Halls is where old people go to die so in a sick sort of way it made perfect sense. I then went back to thinking it was a terrible idea after having to actually be there for seven hours.

As I life has recently become somewhat eventful I’m gonna header for now. More non old people news/ less saved by the bell references/ more awesome stories to follow shortly. Scouts Honor. Respect, Jamie

3,2,1, BISONS!

2006-10-21T16:03:00.000-07:00

I’m like rocky 6 fools. I’m back and better then ever. If you initially thought old then fuck you. It’s been a busy few weeks and semi regular bloggage should resume shortly. A few quick points of reference, Steven has recently taken the photo of himself making out with himself off of the fridge. I had originally anticipated this would greatly improve my quality of life. However my lack of cerebral reasoning proved to have adverse effects as he has since then barricaded himself in his room and refuses to engage in any activities that go beyond chronic masturbation. Any attempts to dissuade him from said activities and maybe consider, I don’t know... Cooking some fucking food continue to remain unsuccessful. Unfortunately for some readers this will temporarily delay him from writing another blog. Fortunately as a superior linguist and human being I will post a few blogs that will keep you entertained until Stevens “condition” is resolved.

In recent Academic news Latin can Carpe my balls. People sometimes wonder why Latin is a dead language. The current leading academics in the field are caught between two hypotheses: One is that it devours scrotum, the second is that one day it got on the wrong side of Chuck Norris. Both are true. Keeping these facts in consideration I was left with only one choice as to what I should do. Drop it like it’s hot. Now as most of you know as I was taking a lethal combo of Politics, Latin, Religion and Economics dropping Latin proved to be a difficult decision as would have to abandon my week long dream of becoming pope. However as questions to my religious background began to surface dropping the course was indeed to best choice of action.

It has come to my attention that a disproportionate number of people who attend university sell out. People become so focused on getting good grades they forget what university is all about: keeping it real, making new friends, meeting fly honeys, and not taking life so seriously. In the spirit of fighting the man I have included the words “I pity the fool” in the title of my first English essay. Other more experienced university students have told me this will go poorly.

In other maintaining a somewhat manageable standard of living news it was another laundry day. The problem of not living remotely close to a Laundromat and our lack of transportation would prove to be a problem for mere mortals with no sense of adventure. But with a large basket, a bicycle and copious amounts of tape and a little ingenuity we were good to go. See picture attached for your viewing pleasure.

For all you concerned citizens out there you can rest assured that my athlete medical was indeed passed. I do In fact have a working heart; one might go as far as to say that I’m all heart. However passing an athlete medical much to my dismay does not grant one athletic abilities. In a wrestling room that contains a higher caliber of athlete then I have ever worked with, from national team members to former Olympians this proves to be somewhat of a problem. As a general observation wrestlers can be both very territorial as well as live in a perpetual state of rage. Take for example me beating one of my fellow teammates into a washroom facility. I was assaulted with a kick to the spinal column followed by the verbalization of “get the fuck out of here; I ain’t going to take a deuce anywhere you’ve taken a deuce”. Taking the moral high ground I promptly responded with a snap kick to the face but it was to my dismay caught and I was repeatedly hit in the shin with the lavatory door forcing me to yield the bathroom facilities.

Wrestlers also have a strong sense of school spirit. After an excruciating practice of confronting my arch nemesis the never ending set of stairs and more live wrestling then this Hebrew hardcore could handle we concluded practice with a team huddle and cheer. This consists of crowding together in a circle of sweat and manliness and all putting in our hands in for a celebratory cheer to show how happy we are with this recent attempt to end each others mortal existence. It went down something like this: Team Captain: 3, 2, 1. Team: BEARS! , Jamie: BISONS! This turned out to be a decision of poor quality. The coach gave me the option of completing one hundred pushups in front of the team or cutting my Manitoba Provincial Team T-shirt of my back. (Mischa if you’re reading this it is in fact your shirt that you left at jiu-jitsu). Needless to say in the spirit of not selling out I completed the pushups with my teammates beating me upside the head with gym shirts. That’s the price you pay for reppen out bison pride. Anywho it’s now Saturday and I’ve got biceps to flex that still somewhat hurt and women to seduce so I’ll be off keeping it classy at bar wild. Fight the Power. Respect, -Jamie

2006-10-02T15:36:00.000-07:00

Tea Battle Part 2
Thinking quickly I used my trusty pineapple to assault the back of Mischa’s head temporarily stunning him.

Eat Pineapple!

When he dropped me I then followed up with a head butt to the solar plexus utilizing a mixing bowl as a helmet.

1 way ticket to headbutt city, population you.

However after a fierce round of hand to hand combat....

I agreed to compromise by not taking Mischa’s life and using both the tea ball and the tea spoon together to brew the most powerful cup of tea known to man. This was followed by a furious bout of lovemaking. Kidding. Our epic battle concluded I caught a few Z’s and made my way to the airport. The return flight to Edmonton was mostly uneventful my only complaint was that there was to many ophidians on my fixed wing aircraft. I booked it over to the university from the airport to get me some quality education.

Later in the day’s wrestling practice I learned many valuable lessons. One was that wrestling mats must always be washed and dried before practice. When one unfortunate wrestler inquired as to why this was such a problem he was informed by the coach because “It’s Fucking With my Psyche”. No further questions were asked. Another lesson learned is that athlete medicals should as a rule always be lied on. No minor problems should ever be asked about. My heart bothered me a couple of times about 6 months ago. I was foolish enough to let it slip out in my medical. 1 ECG later, I was no longer cleared to wrestle varsity until I had a cardiology appointment or further consultation. Luckily I’m all heart and with this knowledge in mind I continued to wrestle until the medical staff advised the coach, at which point I was boned. Word on the street is that I have an economics midterm this week so I’m going to begrudgingly head over to class. Until then fight the power and keep it real. Respect, Jamie

Mother Fucker If you don't use the Teaball Im going to wail on your head like Donkey Kong!

2006-09-30T18:27:00.000-07:00

Holler to my homies in the 204,
With my new Jiu-Jitsu fat lip swelling up nicely and complimenting my ruggedly handsome wrestler good looks I decided it was time to hit up the bar. After some initial location choosing gong-showery I arrived at the collective. As fortune was favoring the brave that night I happened to know both bouncers and therefore I paid no cover and drinks were free. After dancing it up as well as an uncoordinated hill giant with no sense of rhythm can (which is pretty damn well) I headed home to prepare for a an exciting day of Jewing it up with all my Heebs (that’s our word never use it) at the S to the ynagogue.

After recovering from the excitement of synagogue and a family dinner I headed over to Virginia’s House for a rawking house party. I may or may not have defecated on her neighbor’s fence but I do vaguely recall knocking over a few fools in her backyard. It was a most excellent adventure seeing all my peg city homeslices again, respect all around to those who attended.

Also sometime during the weekend I headed over the U of M to shoot some pool with Filmon, Nahome, and Andrew. Although Filmon proved to be a superior pool player I was able to defeat him in a game of wits : X-men versus Street fighter. I’m the Juggernaut bitch! Later after another family dinner I decided to spend some time with my hetero sexual life mate Mischa. We decided on a relaxing evening of hanging out in the village followed by a cup of tea. However Shock turned to anger when the firey debate of whether a tea ball or a tea strainer was the more appropriate choice for brewing tea. Naturally it was resolved the way countless of mature and responsible adults resolve their conflicts, cartoon style violence. As words cannot describe the absurdity of the situation pictures are provided for your viewing pleasure.

Bitch, Im going to cut you.

Mischa eats the mr. Miyagi special

I think you need to calm down before somone gets hurt.

As you can see out fearless hero was in a spot of trouble and in possible danger of being thrown through mischa's kitchen counter. Tune in next week to see how out intrepid adventurer escapes this perilous situation. Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel, Respect, -Jamie

2006-09-27T21:53:00.000-07:00

It has recently come to my attention that due to the bloggers system incredible lame ass factor the commenting system eats major phallus. This taken into consideration if you want to hit us up some feedback or praise our literary prowess responses can be sent to Michaels_jamie@hotmail.com . Once I am confident in you fools being able to read I will in turn continue said bloggage. This measure is primarily going into effect to prevent Fabian from pursuing further suicide attempts due to lack of intellectual stimulation. Respect, -Jamie

word from the streets of E-dot

2006-09-25T22:16:00.000-07:00

Word from the Streets of the E-dot,
It had been an eventful couple of weeks since my last bloggage has occurred, so prepare to be filled in more then Stevens’s mom’s anus on the arbitrary weekday of your choice. So in the last week I have been In Three cities all of which contained some semblance of adventure. However since Steve’s sorry ass blog entry has already covered Calgary (for the record the sprinkling of financial prosperity did little to cover the stench of manual labor suck-assery) I will move on to Winnipeg.

I began this carefully orchestrated travel plan the way the majority of my trips go. I stumbled home the evening before I had planned on leaving for “the peg” set my alarm and turned off the lights. I awoke shortly after realizing I had not packed, the oven was on, and I had had no idea where my wallet was…. which I needed to board my flight the next day. Needless to say I spent a considerable amount of time deciding if this warranted getting out of bed. Eventually the incessant hum of my shitty oven forced my lazy ass out of bed. I then proceeded to find my wallet. 5 hours later I woke up on my unpacked suitcase on my floor with the alarm ringing. With little time to spare I booked it over to the airport just in time to make my flight. I transferred planes in Calgary and while waiting in the terminal purchased a delicious and refreshing beverage that was chocolate milk in nature. However in the unlikely chance that I was a dangerous terrorist mastermind the new Canadian anti terrorist laws require that the airport employees pour the beverage for me and dispose of the carton. This I of course immediately accepted as there are fewer things in life quite as dangerous as a radical Islamic fundamentalist armed with an empty chocolate milk carton and the fury of Allah. I proceeded to begin boarding my plane. I cleared customs and the security desk using my extensive repertoire of charm and wit to negate my Arab brown skin and somewhat disheveled terrorist Esq. Mohawk. But wait, it can’t be that easy. As I stroll down the ramp to board to plane a business man who is quivering in fear and clutching the elbow of an airport security guard shouts: “ Somebody stop him he’s carrying chocolate milk” I look up horrified to see myself surrounded by security personal. I was then escorted to a designated chocolate milk consumption to complete my beverage enjoyment as beverages can no longer be consumed on planes. Things had finally gone too far. I was left with no choice but to pity this new unprecedented amount of foolishness. My pity having successfully launched the aircraft I was on my way home.

Although flights propelled with pity are usually quicker then most I was still left with some time to consider the state of world affairs. I came to notice that since my departure Winnipeg had been suffering from severely depleted quantities of sexy. Now that I was planning on returning one could go so far as to say that sexy would be returning. Perhaps it could be said that I was bringing sexyback. Yeah. Them other boys don’t know how to act. My flight arrived soon after this thought process had completed itself. My first stop was daily burger power up with some good friends followed by Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu class. As already mentioned the status of hardcore is only maintained by living hardcore. I was happy to discover that my ninja like reflexes and the power of T were as powerful as ever, only one kick managed to penetrate my defense but luckily I was able to block it with my face. This confused me as there are no strikes of any kind in Jiu-Jitsu, However I was informed that this constitutes a Jiu-Jitsu welcome back. I happily accepted this response as I now had a fat lip to go with my socially acceptable haircut. Yeppers, I was ready for Jewish High Holy days and Synagogue. As I have Latin homework that is attempting to butter my bread I will regale you with more adventures shortly. They may or may not include: the bar, a party, a street fight over steeping tea, and more wrestling stories. But until any of these stories are posted I expect at least 25 of you lame asses to comment and let me know what you think good or bad so I know its not just Steve and I writing to each other. So until then you bitches are cut off. Much Love, Never Sell Out, Vote Nader, Respect, -Jamie

Workin in Calgary

2006-09-21T12:56:00.000-07:00

Well it seems about due time for a quality Thacher blog entry. Yes, it has been a while, but there are reasonable excuses. Our last week was pretty damn busy. The heavy load of busy basically started on the weekend. We were hired to do some moving for a friend in Calgary at an X-Ray and MRI clinic. The offer could not be turned down being that we were offered extremely good pay for one weekend of work. We were picked up and driven to Calgary for about 2:00 on Saturday. Before entering the clinic, out knowledge of the job was quite vague. We were told “it’s going to be terrible work, and you’re going to have to put in long days”. So I’m thinking, how long could it take? It’s just moving some files. And I may have been correct in my assumptions if the clinic had some common sense. The files to be moved were all being organized on these tall metal shelves. By looking at the shelves, any human being would be able to realize that they were permanent shelving units….. in other words, not meant to be moved. But nope, and MRI clinic couldn’t cough up a couple hundred dollars to put some new shelves in at the new clinic. You see, the movement of these shelves added countless hours to the job. Devising plans to disassemble shelves that were not meant to be disassembled, then deciding on a way to get them to a moving truck with the least wall damage, and least amount of injuries possible. We were able to get approximately 5% of the entire job done on Saturday thanks to those ridiculous shelves. I also used up some time tracking down the retards in charge of the move and beating them mercilessly with their beloved shelves that could not be abandoned.

Saturday night we spent some time with a friend of mine from Calgary who happened to have many bottles of free wine. Her and I were the only ones drinking any, Jamie decided drinking before a 18 hour work day was not a good idea. I on the other hand, chose to accept my free wine, and be a grateful guest. The problem here is she would pour herself a glass along with mine, drink none of her own and when I was done feed me her glass. And since I’m so polite and gracious of a guest I could not turn down her generous offers, so I continually drank glass after glass of wine. Now this was not nearly the best part of the night… Within her movie collection lay one of the greatest movies ever created. A movie that kept the 80’s as full of class and high quality creations as the decade is remembered today. This movie is “Vision Quest”. I could almost bet on the fact that less than 1% of blog readers have actually seen this film. It happens to be one of the 2 or 3 real wrestling movies ever made. It features a main character (Lowden) who is dropping two weight classes to wrestle the one and only “Schute,” who happens to be a wrestler who’s muscle mass appears to far exceed the said 168 lbs. He is the most feared wrestler in the state since he both destroys everything/one in his path and looks as though he has just escaped from a mental instituion. But my friends these two characters are not all that this wonderful creation has to offer. On Lowden’s way down to 168lbs he beats one of his fellow teammates, but later befriends him. Here’s the kicker…… his name is “Cooch”. Now I don’t know how much slang language has changed since the 1980’s, but if anyone in this decade were named Cooch, they would not last a day in school. The beatings and ridiculing would be like no man has ever seen, causing the holder of this name to become suicidal and later kill himself…… which may be why there is nobody named Cooch nowadays. This character also bared a strong resemblance to my roommate Jamie. Both have large Mohawks, and both induce vomit just from looking at their disgusting faces. All Jamie has to do to gain full “Cooch” style is acquire a full denim get up (which he later did and wore while moving files). So basically the night was a night for the ages thanks to free wine, and the unbelievable cinematic creation known as Vision Quest.

Our Sunday workday started at 8:00 am, and ended at 2:00 am. We were able to snag some X-Rays from the clinic to post on our walls at home. A hand, a digestive track, and a couple buttocks (in which you can see the outline of the mans genitalia… which is why Jamie stole this particular X-Ray in the first place). Our extra stuff that was being delivered from Winnipeg had made it to Calgary and we took the truck back home to Edmonton with us to almost complete our move once and for all. Except the fact that one box was missing which contained our plate and bowls….. so we are still doomed to be eating off napkins, cookie sheets and anything else we can find until that box finally makes it here. We arrived home at 6:30 am, therefore I did not go to my class at 8:00 am, I chose to sleep instead. Jamie was planning on going straight to class and not sleep, so he showered went to his room, then woke up several hours later wondering what happened. It’s slightly difficult to keep full perception of reality when you have just worked 18 straight hours, had about 3-4 hours of sleep the night before, then stayed up all night the following night. So I don’t blame him for passing out.

The week has gone ok so far. Been going to wrestling practice, doing school work….. the usual. Jamie has taken off back to Winnipeg for one of his Jewish holidays this weekend abandoning myself here for the weekend. I’ve managed to hook up some Saturday night plans for the bar with a fellow engineering girl and her friend, but Friday could be quite the low quality night when it comes to fun levels. I may just have to do some serious manning up between now and tomorrow night to find something, otherwise I’m doomed to do some homework and/or watch some of our newly discovered free cable. Anyways, I’ve got an assignment due tomorrow along with a quiz, so I’m out to do some necessary h to tha omework. Peace out y’all

-Steve

"Sure I'd kill a man, but I'm not sucking any Dick""

2006-09-13T23:01:00.000-07:00

Well as the wrestling season is now underway my blog entries may contain some traces of unbridled athleticism. As we had our first practice yesterday I continued my education out of the classroom and learned some important facts: Wrestlers on a Varsity team are roughly three times more powerful then out of shape Manitoba lame asses. Also I learned that stairs are no ones friend. In the non post rape sense of the idiom I feel as though someone has taken a jackhammer to my ass. I also learned although a friendly and louder then average group, wrestlers cannot be trusted to give directions. Ever. I biked to a BBQ that was supposed to be 20 minutes away, roughly 2 hours and one botched suicide attempt later I arrived. However free beer and Fly Jewish Honeys made it all worth it.

Kitchen Maintenance proves to be the greatest of all enemies. Apparently my years of kitchen work has failed to prepare me for the concept of due dates. However luckily due to the fact that I have been ingesting Steven’s Morbid excuses for gourmet entrees my stomach had become fortified against the majority of our expired food products. Lunch last week still did me in. Thanks to Steve’s sorry ass excuse for KD the night before I had already lost the use of my taste buds. Unfortunately this means I could not discern the subtle difference between a normal edible sandwich and the rotting monstrosity that lay before me. If you know me at all you know how I eat. You remember that goat from Jurassic park that got its ass eaten. It’s kind of like that except I’m trying to refrain from consuming live animals. So pretty much when I picked up the sandwich which was perhaps the grossest thing ever It was kind of like when you didn’t get to be Bowser in Mario Kart 64 Versus mode because one of your bitch ass friends picked him first. You were stuck with Yoshi and had one balloon left then Him and DK corner you in the edge of block fort. Game Over.

After many hours of recovering from eating a whole rotten sandwich I conferred with Steve about the status of our rookie athlete’s position. With much concern we analyzed the possibility of hazing which I have heard mentions of on various university campus sports teams. Steve vocalized our intellectual debate results with the consensus of “Sure I’d kill a man, But I’m not sucking any Dick”. With that boundary line in firm place I can rest easy for tomorrows practice. Night Kids.

Keep it Real. Respect, Jamie

2006-09-11T20:24:00.000-07:00

As you can see I am extremely cool.
The question is Jamie cooler then Steve is like asking a lion if it enjoys eating gazelle, the ridiculousness of the questioning scenario results in death by lion (regardless of whether the former or latter question is asked the result is always death by lion). The real question in how much cooler is Jamie then Steve? According to modern astrophysiological scientific technology (Which I have recenty developed) the results are to high to be measured by the even the latest advancements in the field. However due to a recent crude study performed by the blogger.com profile system Jamie has received 121 views, compared to Stevens 16 accidental profile clicks of people too excited to click on my profile that they temporarily lost motor skills and clicked on his. Now I’m not exactly taking any statistics courses, or any math courses, or any courses in the faculty of science, or am I really in a faculty that exists at all, but by my calculations this makes me roughly a bazillion times cooler.

In recent university news I have signed up for the amnesty international group as well as Students against Global Apathy. If there are some things you can do to help out with these organizations I will let you know. Then you will do them. This is under the threat of elbow drop. This is non negotiable. In other non threat of assault related news I also signed up for winter league ultimate Frisbee as well as a Jewish youth group called Hillel Youth which is not to be confused with Hitler youth, which for the record I did not join. I find that this combination of extra curricular activities will help fill my schedule between classes and studying. However I have recently been informed via common sense that I am also on a 5 day a week varsity sports team which is currently paying a large majority of my tuition, therefore I will shortly become the most powerfully awesome or the most scholarshipless / no longer in school clubs’iest person on campus.

Speaking of which wrestling practices start tomorrow, unfortunately for me that means that means its time to start living hardcore, otherwise I would not be hardcore, which in turn would defeat the purpose of being a varsity athlete. In equally hardcore news someone in my Economics class scored some sweet front row tickets… TO THE GUNSHOW! Unfortunately for my economics proff it turned out he was the ticket holder. I happened to be used as an example of allocation of resources or something of that nature after a class today to a group of students. When I was an example of manual labor the pythons couldn’t resist there chance to go on display. Needless to get into detail I flexed much to my professor’s great shock in his face. His inability to respond secured me the intellectual victory which I solidified by asking a well thought economic theory question and leaving. Checkmate.

Anywho there are other non intimidated educators / extremely confused profs out there I’m out for now. Respect, -Jamie

Laundry and Grocery Day!!

2006-09-11T12:58:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was our first chance to look forward in time and find out how our next 8 months of Sundays will be. The day was dubbed “Laundry Day” and my friends, it was even more exciting than it sounds.

I awoke at about 10:00 am to a faint whimpering sound from the room next to me. Jamie had cut his toe on his dresser, and the excruciating paper cut sized wound was far too much for the poor man to handle. His pain threshold being that of a small child could not handle what this dresser had unleashed on his foot. So after approximately 2 hours of straight crying he managed to wake me up as well. My intention for this day was to get out of the house as early as possible in order to finish our grocery shopping along with the laundry in time for me to be able to go out to Whyte Ave. and do some shopping. These plans were foiled since Jamie would not move from his air mattress where he was curled into the fetal position sobbing. Each time I would ask him to move, the only responses I was able to get out of him were either more tears and/or a childish “NO! it huuuuurrrtss!”

When I finally succeeded in getting Jamie’s poor soul out of our house, the walk to the Laundromat was extended to at least double the time as he refused to walk at full speed complaining that his foot hurt. We decided that we did not want our bags to be full of dirty clothes, so our laundry transportation choice was for each of us to carry a handle of our laundry hamper all the way to the Laundromat. As Jamie put it.. “we reeked of university student” as we walked our sorry carless, washer and drierless asses to the Laundromat. 3 loads of laundry and 2 and a half hours later we folded that shit up and carried that bad boy back home.

We still had to go back out to complete our grocery shop, but Jamie’s barely visible wound on his toe slowed us down again. After he called his mother to console him in this time of severe emergency, we finally were able to go out and get our groceries.

Our choice dinner turned out to backfire on poor helpless Jamie. We had purchased a box of frozen hot wings for dinner and could barely get down 5 each being that they tasted even worse than Jamie’s mother. Luckily for myself, although the wings were disgusting, I am not a complete pussy so I just stopped eating them and continued on with my plans for then night. But Jamie on the other hand resembled a hospitalized puppy after eating too much chocolate. He lay curled on his air mattress with a picture of his mother grasped tightly in his arms as he quietly sobbed like a newborn child. The entire night I could occasionally here his girlish cries of pain from the next room as he complained of his sickness or grasped his pinprick of a wound on his foot. We did successfully complete our most important goals , although the day was filled with more infantile crying and whining that I would have preferred.

-Steve-o

2006-09-09T17:09:00.000-07:00

So, it’s Saturday morning and much has happened, But first let me regale you with a tale from my voyage to IKEA. Steven recently purchased a bed from IKEA. It’s of fairly decent size to accommodate his taste in gargantuan women. To be a good friend I tested it scientifically for structural integrity by screaming “BONZAI!” and leaping backwards onto the bed with great velocity. Now I’m no physics major so I believe that my brief forgetfulness of certain gravitational forces should be forgiven in this instance. Needles to say the IKEA display model bed was ravaged worse then Steven’s mom on a Saturday Night. I broke all of the support slats, the frame and startled some elderly Asian women. This in turn lead to my IKEA shopping privileges to be revoked and is one of the key factors contributing to my lack of bed. (Don’t Worry Ladies I’ve got Zellers air mattress inflated and ready to go.) However this lack of furnishing did not concern me as a friend of mine had recently come into possession of a cube van and made the generous offer to bring out my bed from home. Unfortunately as things would turn out said cube van is currently in Winnipeg broken down and IKEA security personnel have all received memo’s with a brief description of myself and a photo to match so I will continue to remain bed less.( Needless to say I could easily defeat said IKEA security personnel in a battle of wits but my ever constant integrity helps me to decide that such a move would be cowardly as they are IKEA security personal and are not known for their mental fortitude.

Friday evening in Edmonton consisted of visiting immoral bars off of Whyte Avenue and watching with mild amusement as Steve consumed discount hi balls. As my luck in the city of Edmonton had continued to grow I decided to taunt fate by taking my dancing skills to hit the floor of a local club. Needless to say fate cock slapped me. As if shitty pop music and angry bar patrons weren’t enough, the three cougars who attempted to pick me up made my night complete. Now I don’t know if it’s because of my stern and mature demeanor or the fact that when I got out with Steve I easily look older by comparison (hooray 11 year old boy face!) but Friday night was cougar central.

Anyhow I’m off to Saturday night and I’m hoping that fortune will favor the brave. Anywho there are major multinational corporations with undestroyed display furniture so im out for the night Respect, -Jamie

Friday Night!

2006-09-09T13:11:00.000-07:00

So last night was our first Friday night in the city of Edmonton. Soooo obviously we had to get our lazy asses out and check out what the city had to offer. Luckily we live a few blocks from what we are told is the most "happenin" street in Edmonton for nightlife. Our first place to hit was "The Purple Onion" where we were told by some huge bar star girl earlier that we could secure $1 drinks from 8-9 there. So although I had a good base of beer in me already, I decided to handle 2 double rum and cokes. It was disappointing though, their doubles were far from strong. Cheap asses... We then continued walking around, and Jamie decided to hit a store to buy some shoes. See Jamie is not gifted in the common sense department. All he brought for footwear were dress shoes and these "sandals" that resemble what a greek god would wear, complete with the big toe sleeve and all. After purchasing and dropping them off at our place, we were called and told to meet some girls at some other place. By the time we got their they were too drunk to even plan anything with, so we walked across the street to what we were told many times was a quality place to be on a Friday night.... the Iron Horse. So I continued my first bar night drinking shenanigans, and switched on to mack attack mode. See I'm not sure if you're all aware, but if you are a girl at the bar when I'm there you won't be able to stay away from me, I'm just that irresistable..... Jamie on the other hand repels women by the plethora of diffrerent disgusting odors wofting off of his greasy, uncleansed body. Our night went ok, we met a few people and broke it down busting out some mad dance steez on the floor. All and all it was a pretty good first friday night.

Later all
-Steve

2006-09-08T15:53:00.000-07:00

Mature and Responsible Stud-ents

2006-09-08T11:53:00.000-07:00

Ah yes the first week of classes, a chance to demonstrate your new found freedom in mature and responsible ways. A chance to prove to the world you are a responsible adult capable of handling challenges associated with independent living. Well I began the day by gently massaging Steven’s peanut sized scrotum with a binder from across the room, and by massage I mean throw forcibly at. After waking up my favorite roommate I proceeded to the kitchen to enjoy a hearty breakfast of, Oh wait Steven can’t grocery shop because he gets to distracted by all the “fly honeys” at Safeway’s Senior day, So my breakfast consisted of microwaved burritos with a side of nothing.

I also came to the conclusion that to show how responsible I was I would complete the academic year without the aid of any of the academic syllabi we had received. This was also primarily due to the fact that I had lost them all the previous day in the bookstore while pursuing textbooks beyond my financial resources. I came home to discover my incredibly modest roommate had posted a picture of himself making out with himself on the fridge. I do concede this was a crafty strategy because my appetite was lost shortly after. However due to his tragic loss of social skills as a child, I forgave him shortly after I had drawn a urine heart of forgiveness on his sheets.

Things continued to remain interesting as I attended my first sociology class. The professor had been so kind as to re title the class from Introduction to Sociology 102 to: The many evils of capitalism and we must all rise up in the great proletarian revolution 102. Now don’t get me wrong here, I hate the many evils of capitalism as much as the next guy, And pretty much every revolution I’ve gone to has been a rawking good time. But previous sociology experience necessary? Who do they think they are? Not even having already read the first chapter and attended the first lab in: Construct your own Molotov cocktail was enough to keep me in the class.

Anyhow I’m off to throw some major Frisbee over the quad so I’ll catch you kids later, don’t ever stop fighting the man. Respect, Jamie

Entry 3: Retards and Douches

2006-09-08T10:50:00.000-07:00

Today could be a good day, but that has not yet been determined. First off, I will hopefully find out if 3 of my second year U of M courses transfer, which will allow me to drop 3 courses I’m in this term that I’ve already taken. Two, t’is a Friday, and so far we may have some tentative plans. Now this may not seem like much to all you jerk ass readers out there….. but when you move to a brand new city with one person and each of you have zero contacts, plans with people on a Friday night is quite the deal. My only hope is that Jamie can lose his extra chromosome, and act like a normal human being. Jamie has tendencies to make people believe he is “special” using his ridiculous his body language during a conversation and random, nonsensical stupidity (see one card photo below). Our place of residence has already had both an electric wheelchair and a handi-capable bathroom donated. The St. Amant Center Edmonton equivalent happens to be located on our walk home from campus. So as the staff peer out their windows at the local pedestrian traffic from day to day, they will occasionally see Jamie erratically walking home, sometimes drooling on himself at the same time. This lead to the generous donations we have received.

Now onto the negative topics; I feel it is necessary to include this topic and make it known to the world. If you own a Bluetooth headset, you look like a fool. I seriously believe that anyone who wears these things looks like a complete tool and/or douche bag. Why do so many people around university campuses have them?!? How much do you talk on the phone? There is no way a university student can talk on the phone enough to necessitate wearing a fucking headset 24/7. If this were necessary, people would be talking all through class and all day. Rarely do I actually see someone with one of these ridiculous pieces of technology using it. For some reason they just think it looks cool I guess. Which is very ironic for the following reason. The fools that own these things obviously have no real sense of what is cool and what is not, therefore their social network would be very small, if existent at all, leading to having no numbers in there phone, and nobody to use their super awesome new headset to call. Really, the only people who actually require these things are:
1) High end business executives who are always traveling, therefore must be on the phone very often.
2) Call center employees who want high tech equipment instead of using old-school wired headsets.
3) Myself, since I have so many fly hunnies calling at all times. Holding a cell phone can put unnecessary strain on my arm that will later be used for handing out flowers to said girls, and holding their hands. But even I can live without one; it just takes a little organization.

So don’t get a Bluetooth headset for any reason unless it is actually necessary, you don’t look cool!

-Steve-o

2006-09-06T17:29:00.000-07:00

Entry 2

Today was the first day of classes. I had trouble staying awake for them thanks to my beloved roommate Jamie. He kept the printer in my room running all night which kept me awake. He was printing out pictures of David Hasselhoff and Richard Simmons for his wall and personal collection. To thank him I then made him a salad using my pubic trimming scissors to cut his vegetables. He was none the wiser.

My engineering classes are not much different from U of M. Same aroma of B.O. and grease from the surrounding enginerds. Altough my computer science class had a surprising amount of girls. This is not common for a computer science class..... my class last year at U of M had about 2....as far as I could tell...... even those two took a few minutes of studying to decide on their gender.

My math prof can barely speak. Stutters constantly in a thick Chinese accent..... can't say I'm gonna have a huge amount of fun in that class this year.

*End Communication*

2006-09-06T17:17:00.000-07:00

If you want to understand the differences between Steven and myself you need look no farther then our student I.D.’s. Now as you can see I look like I’m somewhere between happy go lucky and mildly retarded. Steve looks as though he’s somewhere between taking his own life and serial rapist. This isn’t a looks only scenario either. Steve can be a pretty angry guy, we go for a shopping for groceries and he occasionally stops to yell at the vegetable juices to “go to hell you damned hippie drinks” at which point I direct him onwards towards the deli and pick up an organic tomato juice just to spite him. Another one of our discrepancies can be boiled down to two words: facial hair. Having the body of an 11 year old pre pubescent school boy Steve has some deep underlying tensions about living with a man who could grow a full beard since the 9th grade. These tensions seem to result in cheap jokes about my sexual preferences (not true for the record, and if it were there would be nothing wrong with that). So in the last few days we checked out the bar on campus which was nothing special. Steve hit on some women who looked as though someone had caught a small ape shaved it and then dressed it…, poorly. We also had a fun time taking out IKEA packages to be recycled; we were unloading our U haul into a recycling bin when a man we had failed to notice previously who had been sleeping behind said bin jumped up. Now despite to the possible intoxication on his part and the distracting though of being ambushed by a man we had just spent the past few minutes walking by and failing to realize existed on my part the conversation went fairly well. In fact he proposed a business partnership involving the use of our van and the refurbishment and sale of the furniture we found in “his” alley. Needless to say we accepted. Just kidding we freaked out and drove away. As an afterthought that guy looked uncannily similar to the chicks Steve goes after at the bar.

Today was the first day of classes I learnt some important lessons. The first one was that if you leave for class at 8:30 and it starts at 9 you miss intro to world religions, but on the bright side you get to come home at eat a salad. Although I enjoy salad I will remember to begin my days earlier in the future. The second lesson is that text books cost more then I can afford, as do phones that why as of now I have neither. Any who I’m out for now, Can you dig it? Respect, Jamie.

Entry 1: Rising Tension

2006-09-05T20:54:00.000-07:00

Day 1: September 2, 2006
My flight arrived in Edmonton at approximately 4:00. I then collected my luggage and headed to our new place where I would meet up with Jamie, the roommate I will be living with all year. The place is quite nice and well kept up, except for places where Jamie has been so far. His strong odors along with his lack of bladder control cause certain parts of the house to be uninhabitable. Our first task was getting to Zellers to buy some necessities such as an air matress for sleeping and some sheets. Our dishes and cooking utensils have not yet arrived, so we enjoyed such culinary delights as pita bread dipped in tzatziki sauce (see attached picture), and snapple while sitting on the floor of a completely unfurnished room eating off of an empty air matress box.

Day 2: September 3, 2006
After rising from a deep air matress slumber we decided it was necessary to head to Ikea to acquire all necessary furnishings for our place. But Jamie, with his hippyish attitude thought walking would be a better idea than any other means of transportation. After approximately 2 hours of straight walking we thought we'd take a bus. 2 busses later, we are approximately 10 blocks closer.... 45 more minutes of walking and 3 stabbings of Jamie later we arrived at Ikea. 45 minutes of shopping and 2 Ikea 50 cent hot dogs later we were ready to purchase. But wait, things can't be that easy, like 3 hours of walking and 2 busses can't be enough to get what we need today can it? NOPE! they don't do same day delivery on weekends, therefore our next step was renting a U-Haul truck. By the end of the day we had spent at least 5 hours getting around the city by cab and U-Haul truck to deliver our furnishings. After building bed and a dresser, my day was done, sleeping was now at hand.

Day 3: September 4, 2006
I awoke to the faint clapping of Jamie's masterbation to the gay pornography that he chose to pack instead of something such as enough clothing to last him say.... 3 days. As I got up and opened the fridge I noticed the Tzatziki sauce was missing, thinking nothing of it I headed to the shower.
Orientation was less than interesting, and deserves nothing more than one sentance in this blog.
We checked out the nightlife at the local campus bar, which was worse than I could ever imagine. The women there were very sub-par, and I kept being left by myself while Jamie left to go hit on as many men as possible. But even with the sub -par nightlife I was able to secure 34 women, and bring 22 of them back for the night, while Jamie brought back 4 male strippers.

September 5, 2006
Internet was secured at our place, and a grocery shop was done. I also got a new local cell phone (780) 990-7728. Jamie molested 4 above average sized bunnies. That is all

Peaaaaccee Ouuutt
-S

Word Up

2006-09-05T20:50:00.000-07:00

Hey Kids,
For those of you just tuneing in this is where Steve and Myself plan to post of our adventures as University Students and Varsity Athletes. If you’re our friends and want to check up on us this is the place to do it. We know if your reading this far you have nothing better to do. We moved in to our sweet digs round the first of the month It's a nice little second story suite a few blocks off of Whyte Av. After living together for almost a day tensions began to rise. This is perpetuated by the fact that Steve believes that if one performs any activity that vaguely resembles political activism or eating organic foods they are a "hippie". To make things even I ejaculated into his portion of our pita bread and Tzatziki Dip. I don’t believe he suspects but won’t stop complaining on how the sauce just has to much “damn dill”. So far our days have consisted of trying to get into our respective classes and making offerings to the fickle IKEA gods to appease the anger they continue to show us. Anywho tomorrow is the first day of classes so I’m out for now. Drop me a comment let me know what you think. Never Sell Out. Respect, Jamie.