Do you - Jon "DJ 75" Dawson

As we are all back in school, there is only one thing that needs to be discussed. What is it you might ask? Well its plain and simple; just fucking doing you.

As the year gets under way that means a few things. 1. Gob is the best o linemen in the country. 2. Soccer season has started, and I wouldn't tell our trainer no. 3. One simple word with many different meanings... FRESHMEN. Now some of you who will read this, will say who the fuck is Gob? Well bitch who the fuck are you. Others will say fuck soccer. I'm not mad, to each their own. Now few will be on the same track as me when they hear FRESHMEN, but let us begin there.

1. Nerds can be a pseudo name for Freshmen. You see them walking around all the campuses with their lanyard on and acting like just cause they were cool in high-school makes you cool now? No you idiot, you're scum of the earth and unless you're the next Andrew Smith, you don't deserve to even be noticed. At the bigger schools I am sure nerd bashers have a field day, but here at BU we do our best. The crowd favorite here on campus is simple, as I drive back from practice I drive real slow and simply honk my car horn. Then I just drive away and flick them off. Fucking nerds don't look at me. Now when I'm in my room and yelling out the window that some nerd "dropped his pocket" and watch him look around I think what a tool. And if I'm in the library ( obviously lost ) ill ask someone where a book is, then quickly interrupt them and say, "I don't care bitch".
2. Sluts. They are all over the place on campus now. My philosophy is that the freshmen babes come out now, get too fucked up, hook up with Dillon one drunk night then hybernate till spring. And to be honest I'm fine with cause that means he steals another bra and hangs it from out fire sprinkler in our room. Or this means that us hot guys and legends get friend requests on the book from hot newbies. Naturally some one who sucks would be content with this, but me being a veteran proceed to like their random statuses till they either in box, chat, or post at me and ask to meet up. That move is for advanced workers only though, so hotwagz, gaines and wil be careful.

Those are the only things that can be said about freshmen, they are either nerds or sluts and just like a blank canvas its up to you do what you want. I'd like to take this time to shout out to andru creighton for transferring to ND with Gob. Shout out to Purdue for going hard on tuesdays. Shout out to Dixon for hating every single GDI ever (makes me scared since I'm one as well). Therbs do you with that sound system try to get some play. Lastly I'd like to throw a shout out to the St. Luke Catholic School Top 5 all around athletes. 5. Robbie Schick ( Cadet A) 4. Maggie Schraggie & Jessie Stark ( enough said) 3. Tony Shook (soccer) 2.Buddy King ( greater than Billy Kennedy) 1. Justin Maloney( more heart than anyone and his cousin would come and clown at practice)

That's all my peeps. Remember be like the 7 5 and all with jive.

That New Blog - Matthew Ruffing

That New Blog:

Caves and Nomads

What’s good bitches and snitches. It’s been a grip and a half but the Killa is back and ready to fuck your world up again. I know I retired from the game but being back in the town where it’s socially acceptable to be blackout on the streets and come into work hungover and stoned and the drive to avoid the 0.0 has brought me back to your second most visited site right behind youjizz. As always, I hope classes are going slow and awful and that your social life is struggling. Just kidding cronies I hope all is well. I also hope you went hard this summer, but one thing I know for a fact is that you would not believe what occurred this summer in the 317. I refuse to share more than half the stories that took place for the mere reason that you probably would lose even more respect for me than you already have. Am I embarrassed about any of it? Fuck no I had a great fucking time and lived more in those three months than you probably ever will.

In those three months my street cred rose from a mere 6 to a solid 9.6. I know, pretty fucking impressive. And I’m sure your asking, “Coach Bombay, how could you have done such an astonishing thing in such little time?” Good question pal. It all started in the first week of May. I turned 20, and considering im seriously concerned I may not make it to my 21^st I decided it was time to go harder than Jimmy Kennedy on a Saturday night (sidenote: you ever seen that guy drink? Motherfuck me, he doesn’t stop). A few short days later Mr. Pickles had had enough of the living under his parents roof and purchased an apartment. Yeah. “Oh shit” is right. The first few days of owning the apartment the only furniture in the place was the legendary beer pong table, busch and keystone cans, and more than 5 handles of god’s gift Kamchatka, all empty of course. After that it was just a blur of daily beer pong games and meetings in the oval office. I’m not wasting my time explaining what meetings consisted of. If you can’t pick up on it than you suck.

Things got hilly after that. Conflicts with gay neighbors provided constant issues with having to give half a shit about how hard we were partying. Seriously, we only gave half a shit. Eventually we all got sick of the dirtbag bitching and pulled the Baltimore Colts and left quietly in the middle of the night. And that leads us to the decision to avoid the stinky armpit of the state and head back to heaven.

Except heaven is starting to look like purgatory. It’s still the best place on earth but it’s been invaded by the most annoying people on earth…Coasties. Part of it may be because I live in the most Jewish populated apartment complex in the 812, but they’re fucking everywhere. Don’t get the wrong impression, I’ll rock a snapback and a jersey twice a week, but that’s only because its comfortable. These douchers won’t leave the crib without checking themselves in the mirror thrice, constantly moving the hat to where it looks best. Fuck off coasties ya’ll FUCKING SUCK.

Shouts to Zack Martin and the Irish crew, Gob you look great on the field and so do you Carlo. T Stock your legs are fucking tree trunks and Turk I respect you kicking into the net the entire game. Also to Reggie Kiel, We’ve been on campus for maybe a month and haven’t seen your acne-infested face once. You don’t know how happy this makes me. Michael Ludwig for being the twin I never had, Welcome to the Experiment son, teach the state of Missouri how we do things. Keep it real tweeple, smoke weed eat dagwoods, God Bless. @thatBTownie23 get at me.

"Daddy's Home" - Alec Kerr

Originally I was planning on writing a farewell blog to all the students of IU, townies of Bloomington, and groupie hoes; but after 10 minutes in Btown this weekend and a text from Tanya saying she needed me to finger blast her asap because Reggie had worse hands than Braylon Edwards, I think it’s clear IU is where I need to be for everyone’s sake. I’m sure my professor loved the weekly tales of how tipped I got and how many new haters I gained over the weekend when she assigned blogs for HW… and now she’ll get to read more. Since the University seems to have disagreed with many (all) of my educational and social decisions last year, your blog entries will be most likely be administered by Reggie, Ruff, DJ 75, as well as some celeb posts. That is until next semester when I can successfully nomad on someone’s couch (It will unlikely be superior to Ruff’s Smallwood nomad living situation) and in the meantime you’ll get a few stories of how every day for me is like a lame version of this in the Ivy Tech parking lot…but for now I’d like to touch on a favorite pastime of mine- blowin and and gettin swoll- and how the illest way to work off last weekend’s bad/dope decisions brought your boy to an epiphany.

Getting high and working out is one of the least talked about and least appreciated pleasures of fitness. Lifting weights is fun when you’re under the spell, cardio is cool too, but for me, nothing compares to domin’an L and strappin the heavy bag up on the deck. 2 tokes of the good is usually all it takes to start the enchanted wave, 3 if I wanna go deep. As its spirit enters my system it flows from the lungs into the bloodstream and as it passes through the body slowly in every cell, I get in the zone and cue in the music. Music is a must. “I wanna be a billionaire” starts things off as I begin to shadow box. I’ve got a timer on my phone that fires off a loud “saved by the bell” ringtone every 3 minutes and “back that azz up” every 30 seconds to let me know when to work, sprint, and when to rest. By the second round of shadow boxing Rick Ross has taken over the tunes and the sweat has started to flow. Soon I’ve moved from shadow boxing to putting the gloves on and bouncing in front of the bag waiting for my phone to go off, a Khalifa beat to start bangin, and I’ve settled into the favorable groove. For me the initial goal is always to find the balance between concentration and losing myself completely in the movements. That’s where the love is. When the two of them sync up perfectly together, the body flows smoothly from my bush league technique to moves formed from my pure baked-ness, never stopping to admire the work.

There’s two common times in my life where I always feel like I have to write my feelings down right then and there because it is a special and fragile vibe that I’m tuning into, and I want to hold onto as much of it as possible. One is when I’m out with my cronies, pre-gamin usually, and I’m just catching a buzz when I go to the bathroom to drain the golden hammer. I’ve come to some life altering revelations about friendships and what’s important in my life while looking into that urinal cake and reflecting on the wonders of this temporary experience on this floating rock. I always think that I need to step aside and write down how I feel right then and there while I’ve got a hold of it, the slipperiest of thoughts, but my BB doesn’t have a functioning “m” button.. I can barely sext, let alone express my feelings to the max. I usually wind up just hanging out and having fun, but somehow I almost always eventually lose the magic of that precious inspiration as the night goes on, and then I have to wait until a similar night in a similar urinal to recapture that fuzzy picture again. The other time I feel that way is right after I get done getting high and working out, and that’s where I’m at right now. I’m dripping sweat onto the keyboard, drips of sweat illuminating my “no fat chicks” tattoo in the blacklights while I’m sitting on a folded towel. If I showered before I sat down to write this I’m pretty sure I would have lost some of what I’m feeling right now. There’s a sweet wisdom that reveals itself out there on that deck. It doesn’t give me any complete answers, but it gives a brief respite from the monkey body and offers a clearer view of what it really is that we’re dealing with in this life.

That’s why I’ve decided to trek back to where the roots began. Where, on a fateful night in Wil’s small, cold, akward dorm room playing beer pong it all came full circle. Van Dyke was probably wearing a classy v-neck paired with a destroyed set of kicks, and had a blank yet determined stare on his face, ready for anything because at that time he was untouchable by authority figures. It was this same cold December Wednesday that I met a doucher wearing a Michigan State jersey, posted with the only hot ginger I’ve ever encountered on his lap, looking like his annual number of showers were 2, serious hygiene problem was my first thought…just grimey overall. Yet when he hid in the closet after the RA’s ignored the “if the room’s a rockin, don’t come a knockin” sign on the door; Ruff, Pickles, and I had bonded on another level. The next day we were on some FIFA together enjoying bong snaps and skipped class…the 0.0 Experiment had begun.

Usually when I’m down here in the dirty, at the end of the night, I’m looking down into the shot glass at a deep pit of despair just knowing I have to wake up in the morning and tell some retarted slampiece with daddy issues (that only listens to Gucci because the deep suburban parts of Louisville are obviously “hood” (side note within a side note; a lot of girls get dinner, but only apathetic cunts can win my heart)) that she needs to leave because I have class; even though I don’t, I simply need to take a shower because I’m feeling straight heinous since I can’t just skate off after taggin’ a biddy as usual. But even in the nerd capital of North Jordan Street, there was something different in the bottom of that shot glass this weekend. It may have been a mixture of backwash compounded by creepy bros and sorostitutes alike, but I think it was something bigger than that. Since Reggie was at home sucking on Janet’s tit as usual, Bryson and I prowled together, we disrespected women, we clowned a nerd that did the Chappelle robot dance with a long sleeve button up (only the bottom button fastened and no undershirt, of course), it seemed as if we were on that same “floating rock”.

Coming back to IU is a major decision though, don’t get me wrong. I only want two things in this life, one is to have an old drug sniffing dog so I never lose my weed and the other is to be in Btown (if you knew the Villas don’t allow pets you would see the dilemma). But as DMB once said, “turns out not where, but who you’re with that really matters”, and if DMB is really gonna be making life decisions for me…. Then fuck it, I’m back Btown.

P.S. Biddy’s, don’t let the long hair or additional tattooing fool you, I haven’t changed one bit so don’t expect me to have grown up in any way. I’ll still be disrespecting you, refusing to cuddle, and as always, the same rules will apply; I won’t pitch in for pregnancy tests and documentation will be needed to prove its mine.

BBBRRRRLLLLLL (bird call…..bitches)

"SURE I'VE BEEN CALLED A XENOPHOBE, BUT THE TRUTH IS I'M NOT. I HONESTLY JUST FEEL THAT AMERICA IS THE BEST COUNTRY AND ALL THE OTHER COUNTRIES AREN'T AS GOOD. THAT USED TO BE CALLED PATRIOTISM."

"Lazy K, pronounced (O-P-P) - Thee Alec Kerr

Sup to all you posers, hoes, and shitheads. Time to open your brain tanks again cause’ here comes some premium 91 octane knowledge. How are your summers going? Sike, I couldn’t give two shits (unless your name is Grace Schultz of course. Sike again, our facebook marriage is solely for telling the crazy groupies who won’t leave me alone that I’m taken). So don’t facebook chat me if you’re gonna tell me about how your summer is going because there is honestly nothing in this world I could care less about. And so you groupies will stop sending that same fucking question to my inbox, mainly pissing me off because I keep thinkin’ I’m getting a message from the biddy I met at Pi Kapps (yea I was seen at Pi Kapps, fuck me right?) that spoke in my Nature of Cancer class (just playin, Lazy K doesn’t fret over biddies) I’ll answer the question everyone is dying to know.

My summer has been a little rough so far, kinda like listening to Diggy Simmons rap, for three main reasons. First I don’t have a job, probably because I’m too qualified for most shit, or because I refuse to look for one…So I’m broke as hell. Second, let’s be honest, mostly every bitty in Kentuckiana knows this penis (maybe not the face, but the dick for sure) so it’s hard to tell bitties I play 2^nd base for Bellarmine or that I used to be a child movie star to get them back to the sack (or Formal room at Delts) like I could at IU. And the real thing that’s been itching me this summer (other than the possibility of crabs…just kiddin’ bitties, I have documents that prove I don’t) is that I didn’t know what I wanted for my birthday. I have finding sweet birthday presents down to a science, similar to how well Aaron Alvey, pronounced (Ass-Clown), has mastered being a piece of shit. So for you biddies wondering what to get me for my bday, (July 23^rd, but I’m sure you already knew that) quit guessing and listen up because I want all kinds of ill shit.

So here we go, if you want to be like Lazy K this is the stuff you are gonna want to hope your poor parents get you:

· A wrist roller- I need something to do in class to keep the bitties moist. Plus I want forearms as big as Josh Hamilton so I can strum a biddie’s cervix harp all day.

· Another tattoo- I’ll stick with Chinese symbols because I’m spiritual and mysterious.

· Internet- Come on mom don’t be a bitch about it. If you say we can’t afford it, get a job so I can be happy on my birthday. You obviously don’t understand how hard it is to watch porn on your Blackberry that doesn’t even have 3g.

· Like 6 calculator watches- Yea fucking 6. Straight from Japan. I’m talking like delivered on my doorstep from someone who still hates me from World War II. Have you ever seen someone wear 6 calculator watches at the same time? Of course you fagn’t. Then again you haven’t seen someone tell a biddy that’s sleeping in his bed he was going to the bathroom then come back 30 minutes later with another biddy and bump uglies with her on the futon but, that’s what Lazy K does.

· I was reading Joey Fitzsimmons wall the other day and his friend was talking about his little sister wanting to hook up with him. If she thinks that queer is cool she would probably try to drug Lazy K and marry him. Add me on Myspace sometime Kailey Gahan and use that camera phone girl.

· I want Chillaa to add me on Myspace. He is blowin up in Canada and claims he is an NBA 2K10 expert. Those of you who avidly read the blog will know that I also claim to have 2K10 in my list of experteese (as well as closing bitties within 15 minutes and rolling L’s). I’ve challenged Chillaa to numerous 2K battles and he has ignored all of my requests. Plus me and Gorilla Joe threw some rap disses his way on Youtube and he had them removed.

· A new o-line in flag football- Obviously my squad nominated me as QB because I’m exactly like JaMarcus Russell (I have the arm and work ethic to prove it) and we thought we had a good chance of winning the league. That is until we were dumb enough to recruit two Pi Kapps who couldn’t hold down the offensive line worth shit and caused me to have the worst QB rating in IU intramural history. Seriously, fuck you guys.

· Austin Powers 3- Even though they took my life story up to that point and turned it into a mediocre movie.

· A new wrecking crew- Ruff’s idea of a good Friday night is drinking some Zimas and listening to the Halo soundtrack, Reggie still believes that Hannah Montana and Miley Cyrus are different people, and Van Dyke always wants me to sacrifice a goldfish or some dumb shit.

So there you have it, that’s what I want for my birthday. I’ll be back in a few weeks to tell you how much better my birthday was than any birthday you’ll ever have, mainly because you’re poor and I’m fucking awesome.

I’d also like to take this time to say a little bit about Kevin Sheehan and Casey Domek-the two douchers dumb enough to come to IU with long distance relationships. Honestly you guys aren’t too bad. I give you all a lot of shit since you didn’t support Ruff, Pickles, and myself with our lifestyle at the end of the first semester, and mainly because it’s so easy. I just want you all to know you were my 22^nd and 23^rd favorites in our pledge class respectively and thanks for the recliner, you probably didn’t want it back after some of the shit I did in it anyways.

"SURE I'VE BEEN CALLED A XENOPHOBE,BUT THE TRUTH IS I'M NOT. I HONESTLY JUST FEEL THAT AMERICA IS THE BEST COUNTRY AND ALL THE OTHER COUNTRIES AREN'T AS GOOD. THAT USED TO BE CALLED PATRIOTISM."

Guest Blog from the man, the myth, the legend.....Jon F'ing Dawson

As an avid reader, first time writer, I thought of what I should write about. Then it hit me like a simple “nerd” to an unsuspecting punk walking on campus, why not write about what I know best. But then I realized I don’t know anything except to just do me. Yes I do me whather it be “DJ 75”, “JD”, “Dawson”, “Jon” (for my hoes), “Daddy” (for my Hoes), or simply “Fuck that’s him”, you better believe that I do me harder than anyone else out there. And for all you wannabes and hater that want to do you like I do me, here is my simple solution; What To Do In College.

Play a Sport- an actual school sanctioned team sport is cool, but the true legends do intramurals and do it harder than anyone else. This section goes out to that guy who breaks his finger in flag football and still plays every game. Playing intramurals, NCAA sport, or just doing you in pool volleyball, every slampiece respects a man in a sport. So when you win your game, weather it be the water volleyball tourney or the Business College freshmen competition, you better walk back to you dorm with both arms fully above your head and the index finger of both up as if you Billy “Brett Favre” Kennedy on Turkey Bowl day( best day of my life ps).

Skip Class- in my whole time in and around colleges I have only heard of one person who hasn’t skipped a class. Do I know that person? No. What do I know about her? That she won’t sleep in the man himself Charlie Russell’s bed on a weeknight so she can get to her morning class. I mean honestly that bitch goes hard if she hooks up with him and still goes to class. But skipping a class is for men and women alike, be it the ND football player who goes to 5 out of 11 classes a week, or the simple Kappa who skips her morning class when I don’t have practice. Don’t ever think that it is a must to go to all of your classes. Find a balance.

Get Hammered- First semester I was about every day. From keg stands to gremlins, to chugs, from pulls, to shots, to mixed drinks just pour that drank and put it down. No one will question you as long as you kill that drank. Second semester I lost my way. I was frazzled, scared, and lost. Luckily I looked to my mentors, elders of the 75 Block and in the past 6 days have been to little 5, ND spring game, and Jersey Tuesdays. And you better believe I did me at every one of those night along with Tausch and Espo and The Farra Twins. So weather you’re an alcoholic who grabs football player's GF's boobs or a simple chugger who cant lose, pour that drank and bottoms up boys and girls.

Girls- Sorry Girls but I am all about doing me, so why would I respect you right here. Doing girls is simple enough, Lupo do you with the hottest Ram I’ve ever seen. But for those out there that are reading this in the library, studying and texting weird girls, KG, and may or may not be high, pay attention.. Personally I have used lines such as, but not limited to the variation of, “we’ve been eye fucking for a while”, “Sup slut”, “wanna get a pizza and fuck”, and my personal favorite line, but it can only be pulled out as a response to “I have a boyfriend”, “ I have two Goldfish in my room”. And when that slam looks at you totally confused you just say, “ oh my bad girl I thought we were talking about shit that didn’t matter”. You better believe that your fingers will be wet in 3 minutes. Basically I have all the lines and bases covered for girls, but I am no master. No no I learn from the best and that is Mr. Matt Ruffing and Alex Stewart in 6th grade. He sent her a note that said, “Did you take my football because you like me, circle yes or no”. That’s has been in the back of my mind ever since.

RoadTrip- nuff said. Go visit your friends in other schools. You can do you any way you want. Whather that be hopping on bars and twerking with Espo and Lupo, or walking around campus lost waiting for Gob. Waking up in UK’s dorms totally lost and only hoping that your car is in that parking lot and not worrying how it got there, or taking a girl to a bathroom in Transylvania’s frat building. Or maybe its rapping with two black dudes who only blow dank. Or going to see Kid Cudi at MofO the night before a game. Whatever and where ever you want to go, just do you and make sure every slam knows daddy’s home.

Friends- Fuck you Gordon for never responding. True friends are always there. To hold the trashcan for you, take your shoes off so you don’t get marked, give you a ride and buy you 7 bucks worth of McDonalds breakfast Espo. They come find you when you're lost. They give you a room. They let you drive their car and they let you cheat off of them. They let you move into their room, Dillon. All in all I’m not getting emotional but a solid group of friends is like water basketball at highland. Another court isn’t the same, but once you're at that court, it's like nothing ever changed. Sarah Crider, Amila, Morgan Hunt(the ugly one) Laura Grahn (so hot) Chris Modglin Ellie Cutter Whitney Neilson.

Go to class… you know that five-letter word- I know that I said skip class and I mean shit were on the 0.0 right now, but if you are at least there, that’s half the battle. Sleeping in your chair is better then sleeping through the class. My favorite technique is the simple hide behind the person that’s in direct line with the teacher from you. They cant see you, if you cant see them.


Now here is just a list of what else you can do to do you:

Smoke weed
Get a girl friend
Cheat on her
Threesome
Shower with a girl
Go to class still drunk
Pregame a test
Really just pregame
Join a frat( 75 till I die)
Nerd bash
Streak
Sleep in an unfamiliar place and not know how you got there
Get locked out of your room after taking a shower
Steal from the library
Become friends with the cafeteria workers
Make sound effects when you're speed walking to class
Always participate at least once in class
DJ a party
Crash a party
First to pass out
Last one standing
Become best friends with the Qdoba workers
Become friends with sports players
Don’t forget where you came from

So that is my basic crash course on how to do you. I hope you really liked it. No I don’t I don’t give a shit. That’s what I did to do me. I do me and me alone. I wear capris and do me. I am in the top three of water basketball players, best chugger, designated mischief driver behind PK, creator of the Block, the Block DJ, and all around great guy. I get slams, dominate scarface, 1 and done turkey bowl,St. Luke Catholic School repper and rep the Block harder than anyone else. Peace love and respect 7 5 till I die.

PS knock knock, Daddys home.

"Suck a fat one Sheehan" - Alec Kerr

Wassup to all you toolboxes and 0.0 Experiment groupies? I can’t go one day without someone pestering me on my email, facebook, or the one the site I operate on the most, Myspace about writing a new blog (mainly Whitey and Sheehan). The thing is, unlike those two douchelords, I have a life that involves getting my fingers wet and dropping Lazy K downpours on unsuspecting Myspace poon. So if you want the 0.0 Experiment to fuck you up with truth on a daily basis you’re out of luck, especially last week considering it was Little 5 week. Now contrary to popular belief, I actually made it to a few classes, but most of my time was spent stealing books at the library from nerds who went to the bathroom so I could sell them back at the bookstore, and trying to frat at the best of my ability. I usually tend to stay away from the frat scene considering most frats (and by most, I mean Pi Kapps) bro extremely too hard, but with the undying love Delts shows me I had to show some back by doing my best to creep out 90% of Gamma Phi’s pledge class the very first night of Little 5. Even Reggie made his weekly trip to Delts, his frat of choice since every other one “wouldn’t give him a bid because he took all their girls”. Not real sure about the truth behind that since every night I see him talking to a girl who is a 7 at best, holding hands all night, maybe the occasional dance, but can’t close the deal.

Enough about how fucking awesome we are because the biddy that tried to skip town with my time piece this weekend could go on all day about our eminence, I’ve got something else I want to get off of my mind. This kid in one of my classes, some d-bag who watches so much porn he swears he is in relationships with Audrey Bitoni and Eva Angelina, asked me if I wanted to fill in on his intramural softball team. Reggie went home, so I was going to spend my Wednesday night killing a 12 pack of Miller High Life by myself then walk to Wal Mart to tell little kids to enjoy their time when they can piss their pants and not need an excuse for it, and to steal vintage tank tops (Sure I can afford them but when you are probably going to have your own TV show and you already have groupies like those twins from Brownstown, there are things you just don’t do….and one of them is pay for your own tank tops) but doing some work in softball sounded better.

So I showed up 15 minutes late because I started listening to classics like Soundgarden’s “black hole sun”, Limp Bizkit’s “nookie”, and “Butterfly” by Crazytown (I wouldn’t say I’m a Crazytown-a-holic…..but I wouldn’t say I’m not) so I got in one of those zones, you know what I mean. Of course needing space for trophies so I could show off to the biddies, I didn’t bring any baseball gear either, so I arrived in my patented 90s vintage tank top (No, not your run of the mill crapperwear, I’m talkin’ about a 1994 San Antonio Spurs tank top, so yeah, I looked pretty fucking awesome). When I got there some doucher, not realizing who I was, wouldn’t stop calling me “the dude”. I guess he was making fun of my tank, but he is obviously retarted because that’s an awesome name, almost as cool as my nickname, “Lazy K”. Naturally I’m lazy as shit so it works perfect. I also love the name since it sounds awesome for my business “Lazy K Cuts”, where I give dougies while we listen to Jock Jams, Creed, and N.W.A. for the small price of a blunt.

Now for those of you who aren’t from the Kentuckiana area or just don’t watch the Little League World Series, let me fill you in. I was probably the best little leaguer New Albany Township or New Albany City League has ever fucking seen. I was getting police escorts to K-Mart to sign up every year, and the year I threatened to not play when they tried to make a rule against me pitching 2 games in a row because of my pure dominance, they gave my team authentic jerseys and fitted caps. When try outs to rate kids for the draft came along I would come on three hours of sleep because I was fingerblasting Jennifer Markson (while doing the Westside symbol with my fingers) at her house until I fell asleep when she made me watching some dumb fucking movie called Save The Last Dance and had to walk to try outs year after year. I’d finally show up, late, and throw knuckleballs to the kid I was throwing with, point to the fence and whiff on purpose when I was hitting, and jog in slow motion when they were getting my 40 time, it was a fucking joke. Everyone in the gym knew my ass was top pick, it was just a matter of what team I’d being sticking my Boa Constrictor-like genatalia in week in and week out. I had parents fighting over the first pick so I could take their team to the ship and make them feel like winners for once. My dad coached every year but I never got to play for him because he never had first pick. He had second once but the guy with first pick knew what my shit was about and couldn’t pass me up. Biddies instinctively stalked to my games like Monarchs migrating to Mexico in the fall, I was inevitably making the All-Star team and calling the shots on my league team. My grandpa pitched for the Yankees so George Steinbrenner had been scouting me since I was like 3, it’s true that I threw a 1 hitter with a broken finger, I had a Barry Zito curve in 5^th grade, and I was hitting switch before it was cool to be a switch hitter, so yeah, I’m fucking sick. I’d probably be in Jason Heyward’s shoes right now if I hadn’t figured out biddies in New Albany will open their legs for any basketball player.

So this fag that asked me to fill in on his lame ass softball squad was in for a rude awakening when he realized I could take any pitcher the other team put on the mound yard with wood, let alone his Demarini and I had too much swag for the “Master Batters”. Original name I know. I’m making a team next year just so I can have an awesome name like “Premature E-Shaqulators” for our basketball team. They put me in right field and penciled me in at 7^th in the lineup. Obviously he wasn’t aware I only made 2 errors ever in little league, once because I wanted to fuck up this fag on my team’s perfect game, and another because some d-bag said I couldn’t catch a pop up in my hat. He also probably didn’t know that I’m like 8 for 10 with 6 rubies and 2 homers lifetime against that piece of shit Aaron Alvey either.

I’m not going to bore you posers with the game details because it was mostly same old same old with me making the biddies wet with my golden glove and fluid stroke at the plate, the real shit popped off in the 9^th….Only because they wouldn’t let me pitch (must’ve been something like the rule in pee wee football where you can’t run the ball if you are over a certain weight, but instead you can’t pitch if you were hurling fastballs at 65 with a 10 to 8 movement on it before you were legally able to go see Godzilla without your parents). So it was tied up at 12 a piece in the top of the 9^th with 2 outs and of course I’m up. They want to pinch hit some Alec Kerr wannabe because it’s “their team”, I look that sack of shit in the eye and say “chill the fuck out, I got this” and go dig into the box (not without blowing a kiss to some bitty, she was a solid 8. That’s not why I blew the kiss though, the pitcher’s girlfriend had been eye fucking me all day, just wanted to make her jealous). I get one up and away, my spot, I took it opposite field with what I would call a glorified check swing because that asshole tried to pitch around me. It was looking like a game winner and for those of you asking yourself how hard I can hit and did hit it, let’s just say I Benny The Jet Rodriguez’d it and knocked the cover off of the fucking ball. Of course I pimped the shit out of it too. A nasty bat toss, hit the other team with my patented nut grab and shocker with the other hand, and then pointed to all the biddies (game winner in the 9^th? I’m pretty sure the only way that would end would be me drenching all the biddies with a Lazy K cloudburst). I was feeling good until some fuck that thought he was Jeff Bagwell told me it went foul. Pissed enough I was going to have to think of a line other than “I hit the game winner, so yeah, lets hit my dorm room” to take the pitcher’s girl and her friend to Pound Town later that night, that same Alec Kerr wannabe said “dude, I thought it was gone. Like it would have been like that Aaron Boone homer against the Red Sox dude”. If I wasn’t determined to throw a nut shot to Bagwell as I rounded first base, I would have thrown my bat at that douche. If you knew one thing about Lazy K, it’s that, other than Aaron Alvey, Boone represents all that is soulless and unholy. Being so worked up by this scene and that tool pitcher trying to pitch around me I pulled out a sacrifice fly that scored the game winner. No big deal.

A lot of you are saying 1 of 3 or maybe all 3 things to yourself right now. “This blog is sooooo long”, well get the fuck over it, you should have just read it in parts but you’re a dumbass, probably why you aren’t as legit as myself. “Why isn’t construction paper more socially acceptable?” Same thing I’ve been asking myself for years. Personally I love that shit and I can’t figure out why my teacher gives me the lemon face when I turn in a research paper and it is 8 pages of construction paper. Ever heard of creativity bitch? Or “your life is like a movie”. Exactly, I make every day shit look fucking mind blowing. My biography would be a whole lot more interesting than that fag Benjamin Button’s, my beard has experienced more than his digressing aged body. So it comes to the question, who would play Alec Kerr in the movie? I’ll tell you who, some good looking fuck like Leonardo DiCaprio….or Chris Meloni. Someone with balls. I can guarantee you that Die Hard, The Godfather: Part II, South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut, Do The Right Thing, E.T., Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle, Titanic, Friday Night Lights, Forrest Gump, and Top Gun all put together won’t be more American than my shit. Know why? Because I’m a Goddamn American icon.

"SURE I'VE BEEN CALLED A XENOPHOBE,BUT THE TRUTH IS I'M NOT. I HONESTLY JUST FEEL THAT AMERICA IS THE BEST COUNTRY AND ALL THE OTHER COUNTRIES AREN'T AS GOOD. THAT USED TO BE CALLED PATRIOTISM."