Austrian Swan Song

As regular readers of the blog will know, we have somewhat of an international readership, stretching from Mexico to Canada, and everything in between. But most awesomely in my mind has been a certain group of Austrians who somehow found their way to our site.

After the first few posts, we discovered we could put a counter on our blog, and also be able to see which nationalities visited. To our astonishment, we discovered that in a short time, 28 Austrians, on separate occasions, visited our lonely corner of the Inter-web.

Overjoyed by this, I immediately put on some lederhosen and began blogging some more. But, as weeks went by, I came to the startling realization that the number (28) had not risen. The Austrians were not revisiting the site (I blame Matt).

And so, this blog is a swan song for our Austrian readers. Wherever you are, you are always welcome to come back to civilization.

I don't wanna close my eyes
I don't wanna fall asleep
'Cause I'd miss you, Austrians
And I don't wanna miss a thing
'Cause even when I blog about you
The wittiest blog would never do
I'd still miss you, Austrians
And I don't wanna miss a thing, especially your sausages. Are they only made in Vienna, or does each region have their own? I will try them all. And I don't know what kind of permits are required to have a gondola, but I'll make it happen.


Wir werden immer Tanric haben

Farewell



oh yeah,
Byah!
-Rob

I think the blog is getting to Joe's head

And it worries me.

But more importantly, my world has been rocked. Up until this day, I've always hated "that guy." I've despised "that guy." "That guy," of course, being the one person in every class who just has to have something to say about everything. The one who always talks, always volunteers to answer questions, always has an opinion, and can somehow always relate the war in Iraq to the current discussion, even if you're in discrete math.

In the past, I have not had good feelings about "that guy." I didn't respect "that guy" and I generally regarded him (I have yet to meet a female "that guy") as a teacher's pet. Once, "that guy" woke me up while I was taking a pleasant nap in a class. I never forgave "that guy."

But thanks to the wisdom of a friend, I've realized that "that guy" is the most vital and essential part of my college career. "That guy" provides me cover: without "that guy" my professors would only hear overwhelming silence whenever they asked a question. They might even catch on that I have yet to buy a textbook in college. And that would be a nightmare.

So if you, like me, failed to realize how important "that guy" is, today you should thank "that guy." Tell "that guy" what a great job he's doing for the rest of us. Shake "that guy's" hand and tell him to never stop. Because without "that guy" the rest of us would be up the river without a paddle.

~Matt

Dirty Dirty Dirty

People have dirty minds.

I will not receive a comment on this post saying, 'oh no Joe, Rob, or Matt...people are naturally good, and never think of naughty thoughts when someone on Law & Order says "penal system"."

I won't get any complaints because everybody knows I'm right. The proof of my statement is rampant. Search for anything on Google with the word 'box' in it and you better have a Church nearby for some major confessions. But what has really proven it for me is how we can take the most innocent things in the world and make them literary phalli. Yes, the plural of phallus is phalli, had to look that one up, I can tell ya.

I use the word phallus because it was ingrained into me by AP English...you happy Mrs. Sturtz?! All the girl in that story was doing was climbing a tree! Now every time I go hiking all I can think of is Ron Jeremy!

Anyways.... So yes, making innocent things dirty. We can turn any innocent thing dirty. Now...what can be more innocent than simple games? Some meant entirely for children.

Well Timmy, you don't want to know what happened on that old hand-me-down Twister your mom gave you. Every awkward high school moment of my life I think can be traced back to a game of Twister. Should definetly not have played with those theatre kids. Right hand on blue...."GEORGE! I know my pants are blue, but that's the third time tonight!" I try to complain to the two band kids who were also playing, but they're already having sex on the spinner.

Then there's Jenga, the wonderfully educational game about structural integrity. A wonderfully innocent game...until someone grabs a sharpie and starts on page one of the Kama Sutra. I have no idea how that kid drew the Caffeinated Monkey position on that little block, and I have even less of an idea of how I pulled it off.

Lets say it's a rainy day outside, and you're with your family. Your grandma brings out a deck of cards, and the afternoon is a revelry of high-passioned games. 7 up 7 down, kings, hearts, maybe even some poker (with all of Aunt Jenna's Botox she has a great poker face). Now change the situation a bit, and you're with a bunch of friends of relatively equal gender ratio....Someone brings out a deck of cards, and the afternoon is a revelry of high-passioned games. All of the games listed above are played, except before each game name comes the word STRIP. It makes everything more interesting. "Hey guys! Strip Bridge!" "Do we even know how to play?".........."Does it matter?"

Look guys. All of you kids newly stripped from parental restrictions and ready to go nuts with your new found freedom. All of you vibrant couples having some fun. And all of you Austrians, yes you sick depraved Austrians. Listen to me. Forget the games, forget the innuendo, forget the sexual connotations. Forget all of it and just.....screw. Get all of those sexual energies out so we can have a regular time of it. Cause I would really like to have a conversation without the constant threat of someone shouting out "That's what she said! OOOOOHHHHHH!"

Byah!
Rob

Frednecks

As most of you know, I go to school in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Fredericksburg is an amazing town, it contains the heart of capitalism (Central Park, where you can find a Best Buy 5 feet away from Circuit City and every chain store known to humankind), Waffle House, and a quaint old downtown area. For those of you who don’t know, Fredericksburg is also where the North meets the South. We’re just not quite Southern: the accent isn’t prolific, people don’t have an overwhelming love for grits, and most people would probably be upset if the South “rose again.” However, we’re definitely not Northern: we’ve got great sweet tea and not a week goes by where I don’t see a pick-up truck with a Confederate flag in the back window. Clearly, Fredericksburg has everything a star-struck young college student could need.

But I digress… back to the main part of the story here. Fredericksburg does have one downside: Frednecks. Frednecks are the local rednecks; Fredericksburg townies with nothing better to do than drive along College Ave. at 5 in the afternoon yelling incoherently (probably drunkenly). Thankfully, my experience with Frednecks has been limited… up till now. A certain LTS blogger was attending a party (which happened to be in my apartment, so you’d think I’d know everyone) with some folks from my school and Christopher Newport in which CNU was shut out repeatedly in a “game of mass consumption.” In a futile attempt to earn back “all of the honor in the world” CNU staked their pride on final game- their pride, and the most horrific of college traditions, a naked lap. Needless to say, CNU was shut out again and forced to run a naked lap.

Here is where the story gets more interesting. One of the girls cheering CNU volunteered (volunteered!) to run the naked lap with them. Later, after much humiliation and good times, we learned the girl (“Red”) had not come with the CNU kids. In fact, no one at the party had any idea who she was. After being rejected by nearly every guy in attendance, “Red” disappeared as mysteriously as she came. At the end of the night, all we knew is that she lived in Fredericksburg.

And that is the story of how I met my first Fredneck.

-Matt

Nostalgia

I think the best thing in the world is nostalgia.

I actually started this post a week ago, and I remember when I wrote that first sentence. You know how I feel about it right now?

Another week later. Like it's the best thing in the world!

I like to remember what being a kid was like. During the summer, it was about running to the ice cream truck and laughing at the diabetic kid drinking his warm sugar-free raspberry lemonade. During the winter it was all about hanging out with your buddy Hans and skiing in Kitzbühel while momma made some schnitzel. For some reason we've been having a lot of Austrian readers, so that was a geographic shout-out....I have no idea what schnitzel is, or how to pronounce that town...But I actually did hang out with Hans.

But I digress, for the reason for the blog is the ultimate of nostalgia. The topic that makes any individual of our generation zone out as they reminisce. Old Nickelodeon shows.

So, lets discuss.

Fourth grade through sixth grade, I had my TV bloc ritual, it consisted of two shows. The first was Xena: Warrior Princess...for obvious reasons. The second show was The Secret World of Alex Mack. Dumped with a vat of toxic stuff, as is always the case, she now has superhero powers including telekinesis, shooting electricity, and turning into a puddle (not sure what that one was all about). And you know what she does with them? She goes to middle school... Seems like a waste. If I had those powers, I would totally kick some ass. And you know who taught me that? Xena.

Doug....Oh what a magnificent show, and was totally about me. There was a high school crush, there were bullies (who were also green at my school), there was a dog who got cable, and I also have a best friend who honks when you grab his nose. My superhero alter-ego was more of a boxer briefs kind of guy, but to each his own. I was such a huge fan, I got a new cell phone for the sole purpose of getting that theme song as a ringtone. Do da do da do do do da do do do Bpit-a-Bpit-a-Bpit-aaaaah. You don't want to know how long I tried to work that out.

And now lets start talking about the game shows. Every kid who has ever seen Legends of the Hidden Temple wanted to be on that show, as long as we weren't a Purple Parrot. Gotta be a Green Monkey. The thing adults didn't understand was this: we didn't watch it for entertainment, we were researching. We had schematics and room plans of that Hidden Temple. And I know if I was ever climbing through that maze, and a Temple Guard came out, I'd punch him in the nuts and keep on going. No, you can't have half a coin! I have to find the Undershorts of Ghengis Khan!

GUTs was a pretty awesome show too. That was the one where they brought kids from all over the world to play a kid version of American Gladiator Every contestant had his own little biography thing too. Every kid not from America said he played soccer. Every American kid said he liked video games. I wonder who would win? No way our fat asses could get up the Agro Crag when Esteban has been hurdling up the Pyrenees since he was four years old.

But the undeniable best show Nickelodeon has ever made was Rugrats. There's Phil and Lil, the sexually confused duo. There was Chuckie, whose Jew stereotype was too much even for me (I think the Austrians probably laughed about it though). And there was Tommy, who was awesome regardless of the fact that his giant head probably should have killed Mrs. Pickles. I was watching that show religiously even after they started making the dumb episodes where they were "all grown-up"...but the grown-up versions were in middle school.....which means they were still younger than me...dammit.

Now there were a few shows on Nickelodeon, although I hate to say it, that I positively disliked. Nobody who is fond of their IQ should ever watch these shows: Ren and Stimpy & Rocko's Modern Life. No. Just no. My girlfriend says she liked those shows, and it makes me think I should try single life again.

Everybody has their own favorites, and there's only so much of your time I can use up talking about bygone awesomeness. Most of you can get HBO and probably feel like you're too old for such tom-foolery as Nickelodeon re-runs. But as you stay up til 2:30 in the morning for that one boob shot on HBO2, take a moment and let nostalgia take over. Best thing in the world....until the boob shot, I mean.

Byah!
Rob

24, Change, and Tacky Sobriquets

"Spare me your sixth grade Michael Moore logic!"

I started watching season five of 24 last night. It was good, but something was different - and not just Jack's hair and the fact that they killed off half the cast in the first five minutes [SPOILER ALERT]. As one of my friends pointed out to me, while Jack "The Ripper" Bauer and the Chechen terrorists are killing each other, there's significantly less bloodshed than normal. I'm not talking about less people dying, but less of their blood and guts flying across the scenes. When someone explodes, I expect to see some internal organs (or at least pieces of them) everywhere, not newspaper-confetti . When someone gets shot in the back of the head and dragged across the floor, I expect it to leave a bloody trail, maybe even some bits and pieces of brains.

Now if I seem a little bit bloodthirsty, let me clarify: I'm not necessarily against the change, I'm just surprised by it. It caught me off guard, but I guess its my fault for not watching 24 for so long. And maybe its for the better, maybe what the viewers really want is less needless violence.

I guess I just feel a little empty inside, knowing things will never be the same. It will take time to heal, but I guess we always knew this was coming someday. Well, cheers to new beginnings.

Life's Too Short For Tacky Sobriquets

-Matt