"The Michael Terrell Chronicle" - Alec Kerr

For many people spring break means killing like 3 half g’s and waking up with puke all over yourself behind Edgewater, taking down an O in 2 days and realizing you weren’t fully prepared, and striking out consistently with bitties yet coming back with a story of how you pulled off the Philly Fakeout and The Casper from the 11^th floor balcony. For the crew of the 0.0 Experiment our broke ass spring break consisted of Nerd Bashing, endlessly searching for bitties, and trying to make the Guiness world record for largest Miller High Life pyramid as Reggie and I embarked on a journey to Indy. As we pulled out of Reggie’s driveway and set about to the week we had been tirelessly waiting for, Mellencamp decided to make an ill advised comment that he could party harder than me. A bold statement even for Kiel, who could? I mean I do have like 15 game balls from little league (somehow correlated to how many people think George Lopez is funny). Clutch shot after clutch shot in beer pong, busting my ass trying to hop Pat’s fence, and passing out sitting straight up with a turkey sandwhich in my hand was a sure sign I had outdone Reggie and most likely made for the more memorable moments of the night. Little did I know Michael Terrell has higher standards than I since I woke up to a text that said “boy do I have a story for the blog”. This tale cannot be told any other way than the words of Terrell himself.

“So I was trying to do doughnuts in the wet grass of Spring Mill School at 4:30 in the morning and got stuck in about a foot of mud. I ran approximately 1.5 miles back to the Kennedy household and got Connor, Pat, and Ruff. We tried to push it out but it was too deep. This was becoming an issue since people started getting to school around 7. In total desperation I call “Poor Man’s Towing” which is a ghetto dude in a truck that meets me instantly and asks 0 questions to why I am in the back lawn of a school at 6 in the morning. Throw him a smooth $120 and he pulls me out, just in time to hit the car wash and roll home about 8 a.m., avoiding definite grounding and probably some legal trouble for destruction of private property. INTENSE”

Since I was burping up Miller High Life, zebra cakes, Lemon Kush, and my turkey sandwhich it’s easy to tell I was in a state of confusion and I had a lot of things running through my head. First, I’m not sure what Terrell’s reasoning of doing doughnuts at 4:30 in a school’s yard (by himself I might add). But I’m sure as hell glad that he did. I was also baffled by the fact Wil was never on Fear Factor since obviously he was built for it and his only strengths are the exact ones needed to have “fear not be a factor for you”. Also I couldn’t help but think why does my mom call me every morning and complain that I wake up too late? (Seriously mom I scheduled my earliest class at 2:30 for the sole purpose that I can be in prime time for nick at nite, get off my back). Why can’t I hunt worth shit and how come my family dies of cholera before I even make it to St. Louis in Oregon Trail? And why does Lucas O’Rear for Northern Iowa look so much like the villain of the disney channel movie “For the Luck of The Irish? My wandering mind though, was interrupted by my churning stomach, worsening headache, and the sewer smell of Wil walking up the stairs.

If you are still with me after that bullshit filled paragraph, thank you, but realize it doesn’t get any better. After that eventful night I figured my spring break would be similar to my bracket, sure the first night was pretty good but it’s pretty unrealistic for Morgan State to make a final four run and there probably wont be 30 upsets. Luckily Cory invited us to come down to Bellarmine, which at first I was reluctant since the smarter the girl the harder it is to blow smoke up her ass, but eventually the idea of finding some new bitties and bashing some true nerds won me over. Since Bellarmine wasn’t on their spring break Kiel, Cory, and myself decided to be the only ones going hard on that Wednesday night. Even though finding a complete box set of Boy Meets World was awesome and made me realize I took getting to watch it everyday for granted, I wanted to see what Bellarmine had to offer. As the night wore down and the search for bitties had gone awry it was time to play hard ball. Obviously the two girls outside the residence halls weren’t 0.0 Experiment fans since the “do you know who we are?” didn’t work like we somehow thought it would.

I began to think at what point does our blog popularity rise us to that status? At what point can I put “not being Reggie Kiel” under my strengths for a job application and the employer know exactly what I’m talking about? When will I make some money so I can quit buying bologna all the time, the handjob of meats? I mean it’s evident by the quality of the blogs and all of our supporters (Kevin Sheehan, Ruff’s mom, and everyone in Sound Garden) that one day we will reach that status, and I try to think about the route of my career before it all hits me at once and I end up like Aaron Carter.

Naturally I’d like to get some things accomplished. Like having a beef with J Kwon, it would be purely for publicity though because honestly “Tipsy” is one of my favorite songs closely followed by “Some Say Love”. Another thing I’d make sure to do is kick it with Will Smith. Will Smith might be one of the biggest superstars on the planet and even though Fresh Prince of Bel Air is one of my favorite shows, I’m a huge fan, not because of his acting, but his career behind the mic. He absolutely kills Miami, and if you weren’t an owner of his CD “Big Willie Style”, then God bless you because it was pure genius. Odds are though, instead I’ll be doing my usual routine of sitting at home making fun of high school kids then realizing I acted just like those tools in my early days at New Albany….But if for some reason you’re watching TMZ and you see some douche stepping out of a Hummer with Will Smith, saying “you talkin shit?” to J Kwon, bashing some nerds, and yelling “wassup bitties” then don’t be surprised when it’s the same kid that uses Ask.com as his search engine, lives for GoldenEye, and reps the shit out of America that they are making fun of, Alec Kerr. My facebook status will accordingly be “I told you so”.

Evident from my post “Blame Canada” myself along with Ruff, Kiel, and Van Dyke might be some of, if not the biggest supporters of America out there. So one last thing I’d like to touch on, the top 10 reasons I love America so much.

1. The Mullet, the 10-90 (10% in front 90% in back), The Tennesse Tophat, The Mississippi Mudflap, The Canadian Passport, Business Cut (business in the front, party in the back), The Whorehouse Cut, The Riverside Cut,The Ape Drape, The Camaro Crash Helmet, The Kentucky Waterfall, The Wrestlemania, The Missouri Compromise, The LPGA, The Achey Brakey Big Mistakey, The 7, The Beaver Paddle, The Neck Warmer, The Shorty Longback, The Louisiana Purchase, The Long Island Ice Tea, The Schlong (short in front, long in back). This may be, is, the worst haircut of all time, yet people (extremely American people) wear it and still get laid.
2. Post game riots. I live for this shit. Respected communities getting burned, smashed, and vandalized. Whenever your city’s team makes it to a big game you’ve drank enough grain alcohol to where you are starting a riot, win or lose. The weird combination of testorerone, anger, and booze casuses you to have the mindset that if we win, we break something, if we lose we break something. Often times this ends in a resisting arrest charge because in that state of mind when the cop is trying to arrest you the “don’t fuck with me you don’t realize what I’ve just been through” mentality kicks in.
3. Girl Scout cookies. After a session of burning some L’s I can honestly say there is nothing better than opening your pantry and seeing a box of Tagalongs.
4. Snuggies. Being able to eat, change the channel, text, and for Ruff, jerk it, all while being simotaneously warmed is amazing.
5. Aicha Smile. When Wil won’t go to random houses and pee in their pools and Reggie won’t go to the nursing home and hit on old ladies with me I sometimes feel like it’s the end of the world. Then I watch that kid ruin his high school career and realize it could be a lot worse.
6. Most days I’m pissed off. I used tell my first two professors to suck it everyday and threw my pink lemonade in Reggie’s face when he would say “I see you’re bringin’ the V-Neck back” at lunch. Now I just watch Zach Galifinakis’ “Can’t Tell Me Nothin’” video every morning when I wake up. Only in America could a fat, 40 year old guy who hasn’t graduated from college have the free time to make that and still make millions of dollars.
7. John Mellencamp. Reggie said I had to put him on here or he’s keeping my hoodie. John did sing Pink houses and that shit is about American as you can get so I guess he legitamately makes the list.
8. Tailgating. What’s better than a Saturday afternoon drinking all day? I’ll tell you, a Saturday afternoon where I can Nerd Bash, see people throw up on the side of the road and no one be concerned or confused, get hammered, dance with bitties on the bed of trucks (until they realize who it is), all followed by a game of football. Sure IU loses most of their games but the guy who got arrested for unrooting some bleachers and throwing them over the side of the stadium against Ohio State can tell you we have a great time regardless.
9. Nascar. Plain and simple I hate Nascar, but if you have ever been to a Nascar race you will see a mixture of some of the more American things in life. For example, mullets are everywhere, beer seems like it is endlessly flowing, riots are possibilities, and tailgating is a must. I could give two shits about who actually wins the race, yet being at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway on race day is like a parade for everything America has to offer.
10. Last but not least, beer. As Benjamin Franklin once said “Beer is proof God loves us and wants us to be happy”. Couldn’t have said it better myself, there’s nothing better than sitting down with a refreshing Miller High Life. Miller High Life you ask? If it’s good enough for my hero Kenny Powers it’s good enough for me, plus I drink it for the same reason I buy my dress clothes at Wal Mart, I like to keep it classy.

"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."

"A Few Good Moments With Matthew Ruffing"

"Are The Filthy Five Dead Yet?"

What’s up Haters I’m back so how’s my dick taste? The most awesome Monday has just taken place in the 317. The few men who decided it was better (or just had already spent all their money on liquor and tree) to stay home and not go to Florida and avoid coming back with sun poisoning, three drinking tickets and two sexually transmitted diseases had the night of their lives. The hoodlums Kerr and Reggie made the trip up for 18 hours of intoxication and it was a memorable day and night that Alec doesn’t remember much of. Starting with the first L of the day, Kerr was saying non-sense and laughing at his own words while everyone else encouraged Reggie to throw basketballs as hard as he could at Kerr’s dome. After the second blunt a few of us ventured out for a nice sit down dinner like family, but Kerr got fuzzy and went silent for a few hours (thanks to Chet for providing a 5 hour energy shot for Kerr so he could get back in the game). We proceeded to grab 4 cases and head to The Frathouse. We arrived and began to party but had one dilemma – no chart topping B-Shags music to get us into focus. Most of us were confused and lost, in a completely new territory of not having music in the background to get silly to. That’s when PK made the second most clutch play of the night: he called DJ 7 5. The most clutch play of the night was that DJ 7 5 answered his phone, in the middle of doing some homework, heard that there were 4 cases, 8 dudes and lots of beer pong being played and said “Fuck these books, I live for The Frathouse. I’ll be there in 15.” When we all heard this, the mood brightened drastically but none of us knew what DJ 7 5 had in store for us.

Jon “DJ 7 5” Dawson came into The Frathouse with three speakers and a legitimate DJ board. The room got rowdy when they saw him, but then fell silent when they saw the gear. None of us had seen anything like this in The Frathouse, had there been bitties there DJ 7 5 may have gotten blown on the spot (kind of like him sexting a girl saying “Where are you girl? I need a BJ and I’m finishing on your face J”); and would have gotten many more after his performance on the beats. The night just got more special as Brock and Pat started running the table, refusing to lose. With Pat being abstinent from the alcohol, Brock was forced into drinking just about every cup, dishing out a few to the people that respected him enough to help him out. Reggie and I were shitty as fuck with our 1-2 record and knew we needed to bring a better performance to the table, planning out celebrations for each and any situation of us hitting a cup like we were motherfucking Ochocinco. The game was intense, Brock didn’t know his arm from his leg and PK had to quietly tell him where to aim when he shot because he was so drunk, but was somehow still knocking down shots like Reggie Miller against the Knicks. Mellencamp and I were facing another loss with two cups left, while Brock and Pat had just one left. That’s when Mr. Bombay whispered in Reggie’s ear “get ready to suck my dick bitch,” then proclaimed “Fuck all ya’ll haters” and bounced the ball into a cup and waved goodbye to the kings of the table. The rest of the night is a blur, the only image I remember is Wil and Alec making out behind the fridge (Wil spent the rest of the night with his shirt off, but no one knew that Alec had ripped it off his body, not Pickles drunkenly taking it off during baseball).

Waking up at 4 in the morning to help out a fellow lukie was one of the lower moments of my night, still drunk, driving, freezing, and muddy, the only thing I kept thinking/asking was “WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING DONUTS AT 4 IN THE MORNING BY YOURSELF??”

My mood was brightened the next day when pk informed me I would be attending the pacers game with him, dumbass (terrel), and DJ 7 5. Of course the pacers fucking suck, we all know it, but we still go for the delicious treats and Jeff Foster’s wife showing off her busty body 7 feet away and smiling every time she catches us perverts staring and trying to take pictures of her left boob. I should’ve known it was going to be a legendary night right from the start: as we pulled up to Conseco Fieldhouse we saw a group of about 50 teens holding all sorts of band instruments. I almost nutted in excitement. Being the basher that I don’t get the credit for, as well as, being known for bashing large groups of people, I stuck my head out the window, stared the teacher and 4 band geeks standing next to her down as hard as I could and right as we passed I screamed “PLAY THAT MUSIC NEERRRDSSSSS” with a middle finger in the teacher’s chin. The entire band stopped and stared, ready to cry that someone had said what their entire high school was whispering behind their backs. The actual game sucked and the obnoxious hicks who obviously have the worst lives ever considering being at a pacer game and seeing Boomer up close was better than waking up naked next to a 10 and immediately sparking the beautiful blunt she rolled the night before (it’s never happened, probably never will. I don’t care I need my dreams). But, we made it fun. While searching for ice cream, Dawson and I were persuaded into trying to get to the locker rooms by Terrel (what the fuck were we thinking listening to the fucking idiot who got stuck doing donuts by himself at 4 am?) 3 young teens walked by, of course JD says “whats up girls,” they giggle, I giggle because I feel like im 15 again, and Terrel giggles because he hopes he can get a number from one of them. We encounter them twice more, both times Dawson makes the same comment. While mealing on my cake batter ice cream the girls walk by once more (obviously skanks considering all they were doing was walking around in a circle again and again). Then the unimaginable happened. The girls came up and started talking to Dawson. Thank god I was facing the other way because I may have spat in the slut’s face for being such a slut. I walked away but reluctantly turned around knowing this shit would be priceless. The girls explained they were from Anderson (reason #2 for being nominated for sluts of the year), told JD he was cute (#3), and (#4 and most slutty) only thing they wanted to while at the game was get a guy’s number (I didn’t look but I’m pretty sure Terrel had a boner because he jumped out of his chair when he heard this). So Dawson, although telling the girls he and I were 20 and Terrel was 16 (which of course they believed although I think 2 questioned it and thought he was 12) gave him a number, fuck no it wasn’t his own, DJ 7 5 isn’t a pedophile (say what you want about my past, some say it’s questionable but does it look like I give a fuck what you think bitch? I had a blast.) But he’ll gladly hook Jack Dillon up with some slutty young girls. Terrel texted Jack, explained the situation and told him to get pictures of the hot girl. This just wasn’t your spring break Terrel - that’s the most fucked up thing I have ever seen someone do with pleasure and excitement. Later we were so inspired by the three cronies who jump on trampolines and dunk the ball at the end of third quarter that Dawson and I thought it was appropriate to let them know our feelings after they were done. Me and “Claws” got in a legit screaming match of “YOU’RE THE MAN!” “NO YOU’RE THE MAN!!” and then while they were giving out shirts to the Pacer faithful, Dawson said, “No fuck this, I don’t want your shirt. You take mine mothafucka!” And gave the shirt off his back to Claws, who proudly kept it on his shoulder for the rest of the night.

Another successful night at a Pacers game and sadly none of this is surprising shit to anyone that has accompanied the Kennedy’s to a game. In conclusion, I just want to soak in the genius that is known as Gordon Bombay from my previous post. Butler is still doing them, and yes Kansas lost. And for all the faggots on facebook who are so pissed off that Kansas lost because they had them winning the whole thing and ragging on NIU’s celebration I have two things to say to you. 1. Fuck yourself in the face, read the blog and you know better than to have Kansas doing any real damage in the tournament. 2. They just beat the number one OVERALL seed in the biggest tournament in the world.. no fucking shit they’re gonna go buck wild, if it was me I would’ve been buck ass naked running around throwing my shit all up in Kansas’s shit.

God Bless America and the 75 block, they’re the best. Dawson, PK, Dillon and Terrel: get your heads out of each others asses and get me a fucking 75 shirt. How the fuck does Jessie Keller, oops I mean Keaton, rep the 75 harder than me? C’mon guys.. Much love and appreciation to all the 0.0 faithful. Keep hatin.

"C'mon Man, Carry Out?" - Alec Kerr

Spring is right around the corner, skimpy shorts and people walking down Fee Lane are as common as Reggie coming home with a trainwreck. You want to get out and do something, but if you are like me and don’t have any money since you spent a shitload on tums because you drank too much water in the shower, then you are limited on the activities you can do. A year ago I would be asking myself, how do I enjoy the nice weather, check out the bitties, and have some fun all at the same time. Now I have that answer. NERD BASHING. There’s no better feeling than cruisin’ with your dudes and bashing some nerds with your hair flowing in the wind. I can only compare it to the joy I had when my mom brought me home a Will Perdue jersey, if you didn’t know Perdue was the weed carrier/towel boy/bench warmer for the Bulls and is quite possibly the worst player to ever have 4 championship rings (Yea I know, John Salley has 4 rings too, but at least he was good at some point in his career).

With the rising popularity of “Nerd Bashing” across campus, I’d like to tackle a few myths and properly educate everyone how to Nerd Bash successfully. For those of you who aren’t familiar with Nerd Bashing, it is the act of yelling "nerd", while passing a nerd(s). Usually executed while driving. People with higher Nerd Bashing skills are referred to as "Nerd bashers". Chances are if you needed that description to realize what Nerd Bashing is, then you are most likely a nerd (if you are still confused maybe my hero, the Original Nerd Basher can help you with this short, yet favorite clip of mine). Some people say “targeting nerds, Alec you are a jerk”, frankly I don’t care, I’m ruthless, but I never descriminate who I bash. Jordan Hulls, the towny freshman starter for the Hoosiers basketball team can verify that since I have bashed him on several occasions.

I’ve recently encountered a few instances where some people on campus are attempting to nerd bash yet it is about as embarrassing as the fact that Reggie’s favorite movie quote is “I don’t know how to quit you” from Brokeback Mountain. One problem amateur Nerdbashers come across is that they don’t get creative enough. When you’re new to the game a simple “nerd” can get the job done, but as you get more advanced, alternation and a higher level of creativity are required. For example on Valentine’s Day a poor young sap waiting to cross 10th street was holding some chocolate and roses, little did he know Reggie was about to hit him with a “you think that’s gonna help faggot?” Naturally, being taught by myself (“Once you have mastered the art of Nerd Bashing, and met various, excruciating criteria, then you become The Anti-Nerd. The only one known to man is Alec Kerr, himself. None are expected to join him in our lifetime."—actual quote), the anti-nerd. Reggie was quick with a witty bash, prepared for this moment by months of training.

While everyone can Nerd Bash on the basic level, advanced Nerd Bashing requires intense training, dedication, and the fact that you have to be a natural born Nerd Basher. Take Ruff, he has spent countless Sunday afternoons passing L’s and bashing nerds with me on campus, so he should have started to develop some good bashing skills, right? Let me take you back to a few weeks ago when we were impatiently waiting for Pickles to get out of his class for getting a drinking ticket, obviously ruining a perfect Saturday afternoon where we planned on doing a power hour to American songs. By nature we would get tired of changing the songs, which would in turn result in us just drinking while jamming to songs like Ain’t that America (of course Reggie would make us play Mellencamp, and boastingly say “play Small Town, you know my mom and dad are in the video too?” Yes Reggie, we know you tell us everyday, just stop) and a personal favorite Proud to Be An American by Lee Greenwood. We spotted a group of nerds coming out of a restaurant. A prime Nerd Bashing oppurtunity. Ruff’s only comment was “C’mon man, carry out?” It was weak and embarassing, he just didn’t have it. The Scoundrel can yell “wassup bitties!” with the best of em’, but advanced Nerd Bashing just isn’t in his strengths.

When you are like Gordan Bombay there and fail to reach the advanced stages of bashing, that’s not time to get down on yourself. You can't lay in bed at night and ask yourself, Why does Alec go straight to the fridge any time he’s at an unknown party? (Well it’s a strategy I’ve found helpful. Making a turkey sandwhich at a party where you know no one makes party go-ers a) think you must live there or b) think don’t fuck with this guy he’s crazy. For the people that live there, they just think you are good friends with one of their roommates.) Why doesn’t the 0.0 Experiment have their own show? (Honestly, I’m baffled by that every night. I mean seriously, Amanda Bynes had her own show….) Or What can I do to improve my Nerd Bashing since I’m like Ruff and just don’t have what it takes?

The answer to that is simple, you have to jazz up your game. You have to find a distraction to make up for your lack of skill. Some methods include bashing while you are on the bus (everyone respects someone bashing nerds while they are riding a bus), bashing with a mega phone (taking it to the next level, making sure to not only bash the nerd, but take their dignity as well), bashing while driving a mini van (anytime you roll up to a stop light, throw open the sliding door, and bash a nerd, it doesn’t matter if you are the LeBron James of Nerd Bashing or the Brian Scalabrine, you’re doing it big.), etc. It’s all about creativity guys, as a wise Nerd Basher once told me, “don’t rush the bash, let the bash come to you”.

Last but not least some people have been asking me, “how do I keep from getting bashed?” Being a Nerd Basher all my life its hard to say. Yet being in the field everyday I tend to see things the normal eye misses. For starters I stray away from bashing nerds wearing headphones, what’s the point of bashing a nerd who doesn’t realized they got bashed, right? In the early days before I got readily recognized on campus for being “the guy who writes the blog”, “the Anti-Nerd”, and “that cute guy”(this refers to all three girls on campus who think I’m cute), I would wear headphones not connected to anything, for the pure reason of not getting Nerd Bashed. Another approach is to take back roads, any place where cars aren’t accessible are about as safe as you can get, unless you were in the lecture hall of 400 that Ruff successfully Bashed everyone as he walked by one day (the apex of his Nerd Bashing career). The best advice I can give is just don’t be a nerd and never assume you can’t get Nerd Bashed.

"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."

Setting the Record Straight - Jordan "Reggie" Kiel

Greetings Crackers,

I just want to take some time to apologize for my delay in blog post. I’m sure Alex Miller has been long awaiting this post. There are a few reasons I haven’t been able to write in awhile, but the most obvious reason as “Editor in Chief” of The 0.0 Experiment, I have spent most of my time peer editing Matthew Ruffing’s post. I’m sure you can still look at the post and say, “Wow, Ruff can’t spell or write worth shit.” That’s because I elect not to change all of his grammatical errors because it is un-Ruff like to have a properly written post.

So now that my reason for delay is out there, without further wait I would like to talk about something that is on all of our minds (besides getting my fingers wet on spring break) I’m obviously talking about March Madness. While it is known throughout Southern Indiana that I am among one of the better “bracket filler-outers” around, a lot of you not from that area might not be aware of this. For example, were you surprised when George Mason made the Final Four in 2006 as an 11 seed? I wasn’t. Or were you surprised in 2001 when the 15 seed Hampton knocked off Iowa State? I wasn’t, this to me was a no-brainer…obviously Jamal Tinsley is going to be too high to function in a big game like this. Maybe my greatest upset pick ever was when the Canisius Griffins knocked off the top-ranked North Carolina State Wolfpack in 1956. With all of this being said, some of you might be thinking, “With all of these upset picks Reggie, how have you not won the competition that ESPN has every year?” This is honestly a great question, my only flaw when it comes to tournaments brackets are the infamous 8-9 games. I have failed to pick an 8-9 game successfully since 1996 when Eastern Michigan knocked off the Duke Blue Devils.

If you are an active reader of the blog you may know that Ruff and Wil made a visit to IU last weekend. With all of these stories from the past week flying around like the Wright Brothers, you may be wondering why I was not involved in any of these shenanigans, the answer to that is simple. I honestly didn’t want anything to do with being around Ruff for an entire weekend. I can predict Ruff’s actions just about as easily as I can predict the NCAA tournament. It is a fact that Ruff had to go outside to “cool off” after having 4 or 5 beers and a pouch or so of Grizzly Wintergreen. The only thing that I have yet to grasp out of this whole situation is, “Why in hell are all you pansies surprised?” When I was told by Alec that they would be visiting I quickly made plans to leave town and visit a friend of mine in Louisville. Quite simply, I just didn’t want to babysit Ruff all weekend. I didn’t want to have to hold his “Knuckles” jacket while he puked up his wine coolers, and I didn’t want to have to try to calm him down after he struck out at the frat. With most of this post being directed to my hatred towards Matthew Ruffing, I expect to have to deal with something like this when I visit him a few days. Surprised? Don’t be.

This next week should provide plenty of stories to share on the blog. I apologize again for this delay and promise it will not happen again.

God Bless America more than any other Country,
Jordan “Reggie” Kiel

"A Few Good Moments With Matthew Ruffing"

"Kenny Norman"

What’s good haters, I know most or all of you are either on Spring break or preparing for it, so I come to you again this week with just a few things to say. First off, I’d like to formally apologize for the pathetic post earlier this week, I lost a lot of respect for myself with the combination of my pre-pubescent performance at IU as well as the dog shit post. If it happens again I’ll suspend myself from all things blog until I can get my shit together. Quick side note—shout out to Allen Iverson. One of the best small guards to play along the likes of Mugsy Bogues, John Stockton, as well as, Tim Dossman and Tommy Rouse who were dominant CYO players (Rouse actually played power forward but the motherfucker did it at 5 foot 4 inches, mad props). But Iverson did it while saying “fuck practice and you, Larry Brown” as well as doing so much wreckless gambling and drinking that the dude got banned not from just one casino, but every one in Atlantic City and Detroit.. I’m sorry but how do you get banned from every single casino in DETROIT??? God bless you sir.

While on the topic of basketball, I think it’s necessary to acknowledge March Madness like every other generic blog. It’s the second best thing in the world behind Miley Cyrus’ body. I thought I was at the top of the class of creating genius brackets until Wake Forest lost first round last year, I had them in the final four (Fuck you Teague). But this year I’m gonna make a few bold predictions right now before the bracket even comes out: Butler is going to the elite 8- Gordon Hayward is dirty and so is Shelvin Mack and Brad Stevens is the smartest coach under 50 years old in all of America; Kansas doesn’t make the final four, maybe not even elite 8- Aldrich is a pussy and I never saw them play consistently well; Syracuse and Kentucky in the championship game – there’s no way Wall and Cousins are going out before getting to the final game, and if they do they both go for 20 and 20 in their final college game; Purdue is out by the sweet 16- the blame shouldn’t go to Hummel’s injury, more so the fact that they have dudes like John Hart getting legitimate minutes. I watched from the bench as my team played him in high school and none of us were concerned about him before the game and didn’t leave the game saying, “wow that Hart punkass was sick.” And Stevie Loveless is on the team. You gotta be fuckin’ me Painter. I watched Pat Kennedy dominate the shit out of him every summer, bottom line he doesn’t deserve to hand the actual players little cups of water when they come off the court. Call me Painter I’ll get you in touch with Kennedy who is better than Hart and Loveless combined and the bastard hasn’t cared about basketball since he touched Christen Salyer’s thong. Mad Props to Kelsey Barlow though.. dude’s sick, he should be getting more minutes though, second best defensive player on the team behind Kramer..not a bad person to be second to your freshman year. Do you Kelsey 317 for life.

As IU’s spring break is quickly arriving, Reggie has made a paper chain countdown for the day he gets to come see how we do it in the nap and Kerr has been struggling to sleep at night asking himself what shenanigans we’re about to get into. Number one- you pussies aren’t ready for Compton Street. Too many lives have been nearly lost, too many close calls with the police and drunk meatheads, too many eggs have been cracked, and too many bitties have lost their virginity (bullshit on that last one minus maybe Wil’s mom). The Compton Spot is central for what some people would call immature and illegal destruction of property. In no way am I admitting to any of the following crimes, but only repeating these farfetched stories that have been whispered on the streets of broad ripple and the surrounding area for the past 4 years.
A few kids have been rumored to have done the most insubordinate and inhumane things this area has ever seen. For example, for a few years there were some teenagers who considered themselves professionals at executing the classic egging of cars. On too many occasions these hoodlums would buy up to 100 eggs at a time and plan on using each and every egg on that given night. These bastards were fuckin experts. Never striking from the same spot twice in a row, they were swift, nimble and just overall athletes that survived on the their youth and legs to make swift get aways from the car that just got smacked with 4 or 5 eggs all over their fresh new Hummer’s windshield, windows and doors.

You will learn to respect not just The Compton Spot, but The Frathouse and the classy Springview Drive. The Frathouse is where you will lose all sobriety once you enter the door and the music of chart topper B-Shags blares from the beer stained garage. Springview actually kinda sucks. Nothing really cool happens there minus that’s where Gordon Bombay rests his head at night. As well as the time Pickles and I almost got shot by the block’s druglord. No bullshit. The dude heard us rustling around his house looking for some shit we had lost, started coming after us and as we ran he reached for his low back, naturally we immediately stopped because we knew what was about to happen while that bitchass Hurrle left his boys to die- suck my dick you blonde faggot. The vicelord then became our best friend, gave us his number and told us to come party with him sometime. When we called him a couple weeks later just for the hell of it, the phone had been disconnected and was being monitored for illegal activity. 86th and Springview does it real big. But in all honesty nothing cool will probably happen when you’re here strictly because most of us have matured since those days.

God Bless America, Daniel Kleinschmidt and Joel Tucker for giving us awesomely perverted music, Michael Terrell for constantly telling a story, Jon Dawson for being too drunk in Cancun and repping the Frathouse on facebook harder than ever, Alex Miller for making out with a girl and afterwards being shitty at her for leaving because she was definitely down to fuck, and to you for respecting what we’re doing here.

Sportsmanship: A Thing of the Past - Alec Kerr

Before I get to the Premature E-Shaqulators latest game in the tournament, I have to say a few things about Wil Van Dyke’s latest trip to IU.

Wil left many things behind here after his weekend trainwreck. He forgot half of his clothes in my room, his phone somewhere in Bloomington, vomit in several places, hearts across campus aching, and most importantly he left his dignity. Of course, always following Wil around, Ruff made the trek too. Although Ruff’s night was cut short when 5 shots and a pinch of Grizzly wintergreen caused him to spend the rest of it puking in his car like a 13 year old whose balls haven't dropped that he is (almost as embarrassing as WVD the proclaimed “worst basketball player ever” beating him one on one last week). There was some intense partying that ensued upon Van Dyke’s return, and contrary to my beliefs people actually missed him (shout out to the 2^nd and Washington party for showin’ more love to the blog than the Rugrats had for Reptar). I can only imagine what stories we will have after spring break. A whole week of partying, nerdbashing, and having Wil one-up his jackass video…..My dream.

If you are 1 of the 6 people who care about the Shaqulators then you are in luck because the tournament got juicy last week. Obviously we were on a clear path to the championship with Pat dropping 30 a game, Reggie and Bryson cheering us on from the sidelines, and me doing my best James Catusco impression. Naturally, I had brought a crowd to the court (as you can tell in my last posts about the E-Shaqulators I’ve become a hot item at the HYPER) by halftime. Unfortunately for the squad, that crowd had noticed that Pat was not only making grown men cry for our team, but for his brother’s team as well. For some reason the IU intramural system thinks this is a violation, we had also broke about every rule possible, so it’s a wonder it hadn’t happened sooner. The HYPER officials called Terrell over and told him, whether we won or not we would be disqualified, Pat took this chance to demoralize that girl, saying her job was worthless and she was going too hard. Needless to say Pat was ejected, even with an “I’m sorry” and an “I take it back” she wouldn’t budge. Our dreams were crushed worse than when Evan Reilly beat me in 4square in 6^th grade, ruining my reign as champion. After our captain denied the allegations, and the HYPER worker big leagued us, motives were down, I began to question where Ashton Kutcher was, with our growing blog popularity I figured the only explanation had to be we were on another terrible edition of Punk’d.

In this situation we could have given up, I could’ve gone home, got hammered, watched like 8 episodes of WWE Friday Night Smackdown, called Wil and got his voicemail 12 times until he answered just so I could ask him if the Undertaker should retire with the belt, then cry myself to sleep. But this is where the Premature E-Shaqulators differ. We weren’t giving up, we were determined to go undefeated, make the other team pay the $10 charge for the appeal to get us disqualified, and get that pizza party at Mr. Gatti’s that Terrell promised us. Reggie started out the second half with a 3 and a “ball game”, this is where I knew our legacy would forever live in IU intramural history. After making a come-back from the 8 point deficit at halftime, we took home the W. Being our last game we treated this win as our national championship, I did a suck it move to the opposing team and their fans (helping the bring back suck it movement) and did a complete lap around the gym fist pumping, for the same reason I buy all my dress clothes at Wal Mart: I like to keep it classy. Although we gained more haters than Steve Bartman, the Premature E-Shaqulators will be forever known as the team that “won it all, without winning it all”, and will definitely be back to continue the dynasty next year.

Coming Soon: Nerd Bashing, the correct way to bash and some ways not to get bashed.

"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."

"A Few Good Moments With Matthew Ruffing"

"MAAAAAACCCCCCCKKK"

Life with Pickles is slowly killing me. Seeing him on a regular basis has begun to make me less intelligent. He smells, doesn’t shave, and constantly splurts out random sayings that make no sense. I now regret even the thought of living with the maggot. It’s scary to think of what animals will take refuge in his room. Meanwhile, Pickles had another classic weekend. He got a job at a pizza place that somehow looked past the unsanitary living habits of VD as well as the sewer smell. Wil really loved it there, he made friends with the grower who wants to live with Wil, which is perfect considering he now needs to find a new roommate. Wil no longer has that job after the infamous killa tactic of not showing up to work, and instead going to IU with me. My MVPesque drinking stamina has diminished miserably. Max 2 hours after starting the night I ventured out to my car to lay in peace for the remaining duration of the night like I was a high school sophomore. Completely embarrassing. To regain my Mariusz Pudzianowski regimen (just with drinking instead of lifting heavy shit), I’m gonna drink every single night until Kerr and the douche Kiel arrive in indy. Pickles played up to his potential this weekend; after a hard weekend at IU he came home so hungover he asked me to cuddle (again) and phoneless. Everyone loved having Wil at IU again and I loved him not being anywhere near me.

Last Saturday after work Pickles hitched a ride to our friends house, quickly making a pit stop to pick up a case of busch light and a handle of early times. The troll started out the night ripping shots of the whiskey, totally prepared to wake up in the morning and not know what was happening. Pickles got off work at 10pm and by midnight, he was outside in the snow, no jacket, no shoes, and too drunk to spark a bowl. Wil was being Wil, taking shots on command, proceeding to try to rip the shot but inadvertently throwing the entire drink all over his face and shirt, you know.. regular van dyke shit. Wil decided he was funny enough for comedy central and is planning on working on a routine to submit to them. Then, Wil went Mike Tyson. Pickles got heated after a few comments with another guy about a girl. Wil didn’t like what was said and in near tears exclaimed, “I lost my virginity to..” (like I was gonna tell you who it was on a blog.. grow the fuck up.) From then on, Wil was ready to fight anyone, there was a total of 6 people at the house and he tried to fight the four who didn’t live at the house. While Pickles was talking crazy, but classic shit, I decided it was necessary to get some of his antics on film for future comedic relief…he didn’t appreciate it. Pickles proceeded to throw my phone across the room, and then hit me in the chest. Calm and collected, I looked him in the eyes. Wil Van Dyke’s life flashed before his eyes, everyone could see the fear in his eyes after he realized he had just woken up the bear inside of Gordon Bombay and was about to the feel the heat. Yeah fucking right no one fucks with Pickles, I fetched my phone like a baby pug and continued my night in peace.

As much as I want to drive flaming knives through Van Dyke’s eyes right now, I have to give him credit for his mature antics at the end of high school. Wil had been waiting for this moment ever since he gave himself a swirly in the fifth grade. After having the most absurd spring break of his young and wasted life, Wil decided to take a break from the drinking until the end of the year. But Pickles couldn’t hold off from the liquor, after murdering one and a half water bottles of Jim Beam, we took a trip to Khoury’s, before he got there, Wil needed to text his Dad and made Whitey completely stop at a green light like the bitch he is, told his dad it was fine and made his way to wreak ultimate havoc at Khoury’s. VD was being his obnoxious self, quoting a drunken hick at the top of his lungs. Everyone was already pissed at the troll, but to push it further he felt it necessary to say “What up girl” to some young bitty with a guido walking behind her.. yeah wil you had a girlfriend.. nice work. When we tried to get him to calm down he wasn’t havin any of it. He chucked his juke across the room then went outside to throw up. Being a friend and not wanting to get kicked out of the joint; I took Pickles to chatard to cool down with tuna. That’s when things got really weird. Wil started to cry in the back of my car because all he wanted to do was go home but had already told his parents he was spending the night at gobs. He then got out of the car and cried for water, I gave him a full water bottle, and instead of being a normal human being and utilizing the greatest non intoxicative material God gave us, he took a couple sips and then poured the rest on a car driving by and on the ground. Pickles then began his infamous language. Wil began to speak in ways that no person has ever been able to comprehend. Some of the weirdest shit I have ever been a part of in my life. Wil called his girlfriend multiple times, screaming her name at the top of his lungs, and then when she said she needed to talk to her boyfriend, he threw a bigger shitfit than when he was grounded because he intentionally crapped in his pants and hid them so he didn’t have to miss any of the white sox game in 4^th grade (true story), and launched his phone across the parking lot because he thought she had another boyfriend. Good fucking work jackass.

Much love and appreciation to all the fans who put up with Reggie’s childish posts and enjoy Mr. Bombay’s intellectual thrillers. Pat Kennedy for being hit number 2000 and HPER enemy number one, Mark Titus just because I want to know if Dallas Lauderdale eats little children, Reggie for giving Wil the opportunity to be cooler than someone for a change, and the makers of Kamchatka for the awesome hole in my stomach.

God Bless America. Nut.