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.