**2 posts in one week? What is the world coming to?**

**Please keep in mind that the nature of virtually all my posts is cynical in nature, however, any and all feminist complaints can be forwarded to my secretary- Steve Jeng (aim:Jenga48).**

First of all, I nearly choked on my El Gordo(it’s a burrito, you sick bastards) when I pulled up this away message and read it.  Whoever wrote this needs to be hunted down, tied up, and forced to EAT each and every one of Shakespeare’s Sonnets – so as to classically condition them to vomit whenever they see the word ‘love’ printed.  You be the judge of the damage done::

[START Away Message] I love you. Very, very simple, very truly. You are the epitome of everything I have ever looked for in another human being. And I know that you think of me as just a friend, and crossing that line is the furthest thing from an option you would ever consider. But I had to say it. I just, I can't take this anymore. I can't stand next to you without wanting to hold you. I can't, I can't look into your eyes without feeling that, that longing you only read about in trashy romance novels. I can't talk to you without wanting to express my love for everything you are. And I know this will probably queer our friendship - no pun intended - but I had to say it, because I've never felt this way before, and I don't care. I like who I am because of it. [END Away Message] (let's hope this was coming from a guy to a girl..)

Now onto the advice giving section I’d like to call-

“I can’t believe you did that you dumb bastard, if you only had a six pack you wouldn’t have gotten into this mess.”

Good one bro, you’ve outdone yourself this time.  It’s apparent that; a) you haven’t scored a piece since your bros ‘bought you one,’ b) you own more porn than Larry Flynt, Hugh Hefner, and Steve Jeng (aim: Jenga48) combined, and c) you’re currently awaiting refills for your prescriptions of Prozac and Zoloft.  Hey, ‘everyone’ makes mistakes, and you deserve a round of ‘tea-bags’ from your buddies for this, but don’t worry, there’s hope for you yet Nancy, I mean Nick. With a little expert tutelage (& these 4 easy steps) we can prevent you from ever getting caught with your pants down again.

Phase I: I Am All That Is Man - First of all, stop binging on Edy’s Ice Cream and watching the WE channel all damn day.  Move out of the girls bathroom and into the gym. Eat a steak. Hit someone. Preferably, you want her to see you at the gym while hitting someone with a huge steak in your hand.  There, we would have established that yes, you are a man after all, and not an undeveloped girl, because only girls write the garbage that you did, and only girls would post that shit on the internet, let alone on an away message for the love of G-d.

Phase II: Hide Like A Man – Which means you have to avoid any and all contact with this ‘the epitome of everything I have ever looked for in another human being.’ Don’t answer her phone calls, IMs, emails, skip that Women’s Studies class you’re taking with her, and LOCK YOUR DOOR – the last thing you want her to walk in on is you crying in a fetal position while listening to ‘Hold on Little Girl’ by Mr. Big.  Seeing her after a confession like that is similar to taking your mom out to dinner right after she caught you jerking off to a rerun of Golden Girls. A little awkward, maybe.  Just hide bro, hide at the gym.

Phase III: Deny, Deny, Deny – And by deny I mean getting with every other chick in sight – especially her roommate(s).  If and when she walks in on you and says, “What are you doing?! I thought you…” Cut her ass off right there and say, “doing what I always do baby, bangin’ hoes like a playboy playerhater playmate – kiss my grits, nooch.” And then proceed to ask her, “you want in on the freakfest baby?”  If she doesn’t walk away in disgust and actually partakes, then congratulations my friend, our work is done here.  If not, enjoy the freakfest, and move onto the next phase.

Phase IV: The Best Defense is Offense – You have now progressed to the point where you can start scheduling dates/meetings/’whatever non-sexual term you deem fit’ with her again. Getting her to meet you after witnessing your freakfest- Hard. You not showing up to your scheduled meeting - Easy.  So yeah, instead of meeting up with her, do something for yourself man – hit the gym, or even better have another freakfest.  When she calls to ask where you are, tell her that you’re running behind and that you’ll be there shortly (haha, yeah right).  Two days later (the industry standard for calling girls back), when you finally respond to her 12 messages, construct an elaborate story of how your car, cellphone, and computer all broke down simultaneously after the Nebuchanezzer released it’s EMP weapon, & thus destroying the machines that control the matrix(& taking care of the 2 day lag), and how you want to make it up to her tonight. When she points out that you don’t even own a car, respond with, “Bitch, what you don’t know about me I can just about squeeze in the Grand Fuckin’ Canyon.” Now repeat Phase IV until you’ve managed to ruin at least 3 big nights for her (birthday, etc.), or to your hearts content – the world’s an oyster my friend. 

YOUR BONUS  – Wait, it gets better? Of course. You will have perfected being ‘the Asshole’ so well that she will actually develop feelings for you (bc that is how shit works).  For you, strike a balance between Phases III & IV, and try to accrue as many free dinners, gifts, and rides to and from parties as possible.  For her the tables have turned, and the fun’s just started – her ‘ride’ being similar to that of a previous xanga (6 December 2003 “Option B”) Also, you want to let her know that she’s “a swell girl” and “that she knows her place” from time to time, so she doesn’t doubt your sincerity in this ‘everbody wins right?’ relationship.  Well done my friend, now sit back, grab a steak, and enjoy the freakfests..

TO EVERYONE: I hope you’ve learned a thing or two here people.  The bottom line?  Remember – there’s nothing too big that a workout at the gym, a porterhouse steak, some yeti-sports albatross overload, and sex with an ex-girlfriend can’t handle.

**Good luck understanding this chaos**

Freshman Year. So it all began with...

 "So all I have do is join a fraternity and it'll be endless orgies, right?"

Hawaiin Luau Party. Jarret's room. Jarret's vodka. Steak dinner. Beer pong. Bidded in a crowded Room 3 wasted. Paul Wilson: Do you accept? Jeff accepted his bid right? Enter Jeff Sutton, TLoco, Maggie Margeson, Scott Haack, Gary Holle.  Carry-in. Gamma Phi Beta, you mean Gamma F** B*****? Fucking paint the rock. Keep a black book, a lighter, and a rough rider. Scavenger hunt with no car. TQ night. Burns Park in the pouring rain. Fake V**** - Fill it to the brim Su Lee. INCOMEKING! I mean incomeschwing. 1.5 kidnappings. 3 kegraids (1 during chapter). 2 interviews. Do these guys ever stop smoking weed?  Horseshoe Night, dodging cups left and right- ooh, a warm one. Inspiration. Here's the Wall, now let the Good Times Roll! What's your name? Laurence? No it's Scut. My name isn't Scott?! Constitution in the freezing cold. Flaming ***, we beat the record! The big run, fire drill, mama ska, bungwad, continous keg, it's all a blur. Kind, fish, entrails, purgatory, neophyte. Welcome to the Bond(adge)s.

Winter Rush. Batman and Robin, old men, ky jelly, and a pair of arayan ass buddies.  Now feel our pain. Did I say tie me to a tree upside down you bastards? Greek Week 2001. Worst Variety EVER. It's not my fault she fell on her face. Where did all the parties go? It can only go up from here, right?

Sophomore Year.  Never Assume...

"To the Edge and Back."

Social chair? Print up 500 quarter page flyers and distribute. Hawaiin Luau party Round Two. "Wait we're on so-pro? What do we do?" Jarret: 'If we're gonna break the rules, we might as well buy 4 kegs and 6 handles of vodka.' "And IFC?" 'Fuck the IFC!' IFC + Nationals together= "Juniors and Seniors, don't let the door hit you." Here come's Nick Pence w/ a bottomless RUSH FUND and Scott Bonato. Bonato's a rushee rushing rushees, "come check out our sweet basement...yeah I'll be president someday." Here come the Sweet 15 (sweet like sugar, because they're all white.). Home depot card + Shant = cocktails, halloween, and blacklights. Inspiration in the blink of an eye. Call me Mr. $$bags.  Revenge of the 'bums' part II. Winter Rush roommates to be. Playboy playerhater playmate's money making Shant scheme. Nobody's getting laid here.. Variety 2k2 -Danger! trex, CT, chemo.. you want ME to lift HER over my head?! Robbed. Something's gotta change..

TBC..

and that is that.

Ladies, today is your lucky day. There are a few openings in my airtight schedule for the following positions::

The Fine Arts (ie. you'll be writing my english papers), Ethnic Cusines (or "get in the kitchen, NOW"), Domestic Responsibilities (ie. do my laundry), Nightlife and/or Leisure (ie. you'll be buying me drinks and/or giving me massages while I watch the "Count of Monte Cristo yet again").

All positions are highly selective. Please send all applications, pictures,  andgifts through my secretary, Steve Jeng (sjeng@umich.edu). Women's Studies majors and East Quad affiliates need not apply.

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Today's targets: "skinny" Asian guys (indians included) and Girls. Seriously, I couldn't fit all of the nice things I had to say about them in the Grand Canyon.

So blah blah blah - working out is such a part of my life that someone could steal all of the shit out of my room, replace it with a benchpress and some weights and I wouldn't know the difference. However I would be missing out on the secondary reason why I log more hours at the gym than I do with the girl I'd be dating sometimes.. but what's the primary reason you say? Well let me introduce to you the epic saga of:

"Against All Odds: From SkinnyAsian to IntimidAsian"

Chapter One: Broken

Enter Larry. We call him Larry because it turns out Laurence was too good a name for him at the time.  So yeah, there he is in all of his naivety, weighing in at 135lbs (your standard weight for a skinny Asian that plays basketball and is part of the math club), with braces on his teeth, and ready to participate in the orgy that is College Life(cus that's how college is right? oh and when you joing ANY fraternity you can immediately tap into the limitless possibilities of "Sorority Girls Gone Wild." Sorry buddy, the only half truth is that the Girls are more GONE than they are wild.) So wondering what he'd do with the little time he had between the plethora of orgies, class, and a few two-somes; Larry decided to join an IM soccer team- Team Jerry'sKids, cus damn, he couldn't tell the difference. I think the team of fourth graders Larry coached the summer before could've shown Jerry'sKids a thing or two, like how to kick the ball in any other direction than out of bounds. So to make a long story short, Larry's leg was fractured (not broken) because his own goalie decided that the ball belonged to himself, not Larry, and Larry's legs weren't going to get in the way.  The fact that Larry could take two steps before falling on his face and having to crawl meant that 'he was aight' and that Team Jerry'sKids would finish the game before taking him to the Hospital. Oh yeah, Team Jerry'sKids, you're all invited to my wedding.

And that is that =) (for now..)