A good mixtape

Midday, for college kids, is a time to waste. Finished with classes, many of us mill about until the inevitable time for pregaming (or gaming, for those of you not into wonderful college institutions such as Power Hour). Commonly it is used for naps, video games and, for the more studious among us, reading. It is not a time, however, for wide social gatherings or anything productive. This is an unmitigated shame.

Now I'm not suggesting we should all start tapping kegs at the crack of 4, but the introduction of a happy hour would add a new, dynamic feel to the Northwestern social atmosphere. Happy hour, in my limited experience, is a time where everyone is in a good mood. We've all just finished classes and are in a state of mind that goes right along with the open, jovial atmosphere of afternoon boozing. No one gets wasted - though I'm sure Dan Clay could prove me wrong - and it leads to a far more relaxed and intelligently sociable time than 1:30 at the Deuce.

The best part of Happy Hour is the music selection. I'll take every excuse I can get to listen to Steve Miller Band's Take the Money and Run or Dire Strait's Walk of Life. These songs force most sane human beings to feel good, no matter many people around them are wearing Ugg boots. On Fridays, Northwestern frats barbeque, creating about as much revelry as you'll ever see from sober teenagers. Why is this only one day a week? And why not add a few good German beers to the mix - IFC patrols don't begin 'till 10.

So let's all go outside in the warm weather and revel over not having class for another 16 hours. The only real restriction is that you can't listen to crunk music. Anyone who listens to Lil' Jon and the Eastside boys before dinner probably has psychological problems because their Daddy didn't love them, anyway. Anyone who wants to happy hour knows where to find me - I'll be in my room, playing video games.

Chicks Dig the Bullseye

So I decided to write a blog. Why? Do I have anything useful, constructive or funny to say? No. It's because I'm not quite as cool as I should be. So I figured I'd just copy other people. It seems to work for Stuart Scott, so why not me? I basically took Matt "Rosie" Rosenthal's idea, 'cause he's pretty fucking funny.

I spent the entire weekend on my couch with the tv stuck on ESPN - it was the NFL Draft, and I actually care who get selected with the 238th pick. It was a complete waste of time, and the only decent memories I have are of Friday night, when the Lodge held one of their legendary floor parties. Which sucked. It did bring up something that is becoming an unfortunate reality in my life. I can't get chicks to like me... unless I play darts.

I'm pretty fucking good at darts. I haven't lost at Northwestern in my two years here. In fact, I kill most anyone who challenges me. That however, is unimportant. What is important is that girls swoon over me when I'm throwing sharp metal objects nine feet. Well, they don't swoon, but I sure as hell get more attention than other times. This basically proves that Napoleon Dynamite (which I've never actually seen) was right when he said Ladies love guys with skills. Darts qualify.

The point is... well, there's no real point which anyone should understand. Everyone should challenge me to a game of cricket, though, because it will make my night much better.

So that was my first attempt. I promise I'll be more irreverent next time (sure). And if any girls are reading this, I swear I'm not that desperate. When I'm sober.