Under the Table and The Red Menace

So. This is the story of my roommate. When I came back to my room he was already about 3 beers in, which was half way to his 6-drink capacity. He was playing some beirut, taking shots, falling down, and fighting somewhere in the meantime, all of this taking well above his maximum. Then he found the fan.

First he just humped it for a while, then he decided it was a better pillow.

Shortly after that the absolute chaos began, and I escaped as my hapless drunk roommate was wildly flailing to escape a headlock in the hallway. When I returned about an hour later with my other roommate, (i live in a triple), we came across this hilarious image.

What you can't see in this picture are the crumpled up beer cans he's sleeping on and that his hair is dripping wet from all the beer poured on it. Somehow he made it on to his top bunk in the middle of the night, but that's still kind of a mystery.

Also, here's a picture of me that has been dubbed "The Red Menace."

Now there were a couple of circumstances leading to the pigment perfectly captured in this photo:

1. Alcohol

2. Face cream that closes my pores

3. Two long-sleeve button-down shirts being worn at the same time.

4. Crowded room

Anyways, hilarious.

Fun Things to Yell at Hockey Games

I'm just gonna put this out there. Hockey games are boring. Unless you're drunk. First let me tell you how that came to be. So you know the Power Hour right, a shot of beer every minute for an hour, well me and my roommate had this great idea of making a power hour playlist ( you can download a program to do it here) using only shitty 90's music that makes us angry (Nickelback, Sum 41, All American Rejects). The idea was to get drunk and furious before catching a bus to the Carleton men's hockey opener. I'd say it was pretty successful.

Now things got hilarious as soon as we were waiting for the bus. Imagine a writhing mass of 150+ drunk college students each trying as hard as they can to get on to 70-person school bus. It was like a mosh pit with more pain and less music. So after I had headbutted my way to seat in the third row, it was time to be belligerent.

I got to the hockey game and took up my shouting position at the top of the bleachers and the following are things I may or may not have yelled at the top of my lungs (with a little help from a flask of peppermint schnapps):

"Kill the non-believers!"

"Win it for the heathens!"

"Blood for Oil!"

"God hates the other team!"

"Break the bonds of the oppressor!"

"Beat his ass! Beat his ass! Beat his fuckin' ass!"

"Lightning bolt...Lightning bolt...lightning bolt...lightning bolt...death...death...Death DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH!"

It was good times. I don't think I really affected the game any, but the crowd enjoyed me. Carleton wins 4-1. Then I went home, smoked 5 bowls, drank some more, and passed out playing pokemon. Later bitches.

What's Your Passion?

Don't get me started on the stock conversation. Oh wait, do get me started on the stock conversation because that shit needs to change. Ok. So if you don't know the term "stock conversation" I'll give you an example. Take for example, Mike and Steve. Mike and Steve live one floor apart in the same dorm, they have one class together, and they're both members of the college democratic club. They're on good terms, but they aren't really friends. An average conversation between the two, if they say, happened to run into each other on the way to class, would look like this:

M: Hey, how's it going?
S: It's good, it's good. How bout you?
M: Not bad. My legs are really sore from practice yesterday though.
S: Basketball, right?
M: Yeah
S: Yeah, that seems like it would be real tough. Hey, did you do the problem set?
M: About half of it, I faked the rest
S: Oh yeah, me to BLAH BLAH BLAH

Notice how they managed to basically talk about nothing the entire time. Neither of them will come out of that conversation particularly impressed with the other, and they will remain mere acquaintances forever until someone breaks the ice. Welcome to the stock conversation. You have probably at least 25 a day. You don't like them, but they're better than the alternative of just saying nothing. Or is there another option? Is there a way you can actually talk about something for once?

Enter "What's your passion?" It's basically a joke, but not really. It came about when I was trying to think of a way to have an interesting conversation with the custodians that clean my building. I mean, I don't particularly care how there day is going or who they're going to vote for, I want to know if they used to be lumberjacks or dated a bank robber, or can draw extremely convincing sketches of woodland creatures. So the idea came up to just say, "what's your passion?" to them, and see how they respond. You don't have to use those words exactly, but the idea is to make some sort of question or statement that dislodges the avalanche of truth and knowledge that the average person holds back in the stock conversation.

I mean, think about all the best conversations you've ever had. Were they about homework or classes, or were they when your friend told you he likes to make engines out of scrap he finds at the dump, just because he likes the idea of making something from nothing. You never know who's a badass until you ask.

Now if you're like me, you've probably noticed that you've had a lot of your best conversations when you're drunk and high. Why do you think this is? It's cause your goddamn stock conversation inhibitions go out the window and you're not afraid to ask or answer the kind of insightful question that would make you feel awkward when you're sober. Well fuck that. Just ask those kind of questions all the time and have those kind of conversation and discover all those friends you're too much of a pussy to make. Otherwise it's just a waste of time.

The Yebisu Museum

I just arrived in Nagoya and I'm now writing on Alex's computer, the same one he uses to write his blog. If I told you I was sober right now, I would be an うそつき, or liar. That's thanks to a successful day at the Yebisu Museum in Ebisu, Tokyo. If you're looking for something to do in Tokyo, I highly recommend this museum. Yui, Chris, and I left Yui's house around 1:00 and wisely decided to buy my ticket to Nagoya first, while we were still sober enough to do so. Then it was off to the Yebisu museum. The museum consists of a large central room with a tour going from the left-hand side and a tasting room on the right. First-timers are encouraged to take the tour, while repeat visitors can head straight to the prize on the right. The museum itself is free, and tasting costs about 200 yen for a 350ml draft beer. But we'll discuss that in more depth later. The tour was kind of fun, but all in Japanese, so somewhat difficult to understand. They had some neat old-fashioned brewing machines as well as some attractive glasswear and computer quizzes on beer knowledge. Here are some pictures I took from the tour:





But really, the tour pales in comparison to the tasting room. It's 200 yean for Yebisu Black (the best ever) and regular Yebisu (also awesome) and 250 yen for Weiss, which is actually really good and I think only sold in the museum. You can get some other Sapporo products and Guinness too for more money, but don't. The Black is where it's at. I had nine beers total, 5 Yebisu Black, 3 Regular, and 1 Weiss. It was delicious. With each beer you also get some complimentary beer snacks, which are pretty tasty. We spent a couple hours drinking, talking, and playing Nagano Snatch, and it was great fun. I don't have any pictures of this, but I'll show you some great shots I took while enjoying the black for the first time yesterday. Just imagine these pictures times 5.





Finally it was time to leave, and we headed to Tokyo station to catch my shinkansen. We got to the station in time to drunkenly devour some tasty curry, then it was time to say goodbye. I had a great time with Yui and Chris, and I can't wait to hang out with them back in the Minnie-Min. I rode the Shinkansen drunk, and it was sort of difficult because I was paranoid about missing my stop. So I read some Dostoevsky and The Cat Who Lived a Million Times again. I arrived in Nagoya safely, and now I'm ready ready for bed.