Christy is shit house drunk.

So I decidxed t o write the  blog t5oday/.   This is what happends when Matt makes me drink wine from the B lock O’ Wine.  We , as in “Matt and I, and Julias” deicided to dhave dinhner tonight.   What that means is, Matt is going to cook dinner and Ju’lia and I are going to take credit.  So we invited Becky and  Debby and Roy and Chris and whoever else was inclined to drink with us. So lJulia and I got here early. She started in on Beer….uh……..wqhat awas Julia drinuibng…..;..bewer……..uh….Miller High Life and I had a cider…my favorite.   Then I started on in the block of wine and then the bottles that Debby and Roy had brought.   So that was fun. I was drunk after the first fglass fo cider. I think I had 5 glasses of whin e after thatl.   Obfviouslyu I’m drunk.,   Matt and Becky think it’s funny.  Roy just came back because he was ki8ckeed out. .   Roy says tiittes are good, and that “show me demj titties.”. Matt is explaining what DrYeti is .  Anytway, so yeah, I’m drunik anddecided that I wanted to type the blog for the day.  Some of you might ask why, and I can answer that.  Why is  because  matt is an ass an on the way  home from  dinner with my parents last night…lhe says  “:I have nothing to bnlog about “..  WHATEVER!~!!!!  HJe just had dinner with my parents!!!!  That’s not to blog about?!?! EGeeeeeez. So anytwayy, then we bought food for dinner tognihte….a delicious roast in the crocak poit with carrots and potatoes and mushrooms and such. YH”um!!!!!!   Obviopslyu I’m drunk, because Matt and Beckyu will not let me Backspace.  Which is the key to drunk typing.  But thankfully, Microsoft Word is  fixing somethings for me. So this sic actually bnwetter than I ‘m typingb for me.  

Hmmm..what else?>  Julia was crazy…and matt is sweet talking me wiuth sinamun rolls .  ytum!!!!!!!

W@hyt?  BEcayuse he can dnow get into my lab to leave me random thingsl.  So I guess I’m ruynning out of things to blog about because they are taking my wine away from me and I’m either going to have to sleep in matgt’s sock sraqwer , wait drawer or wander aroung squjirrel hill until I see the bneaciona  nd then go home.   Or .k….i can driver my mazda home and crash amd royt hit it ahyway.    Matt is going to publish this for me. YUAy.  This is what he gets fir  aking fuin of me.  I have drank tooooooo much wine for the night.  At leas ti only have  to p[retned to fgive the practicval tomorrow. NBow I’m goint to sleep on the futon. I love you mala.  



\=)

Don't give me your excuses.

I'm going to apologize now if my posting is sparse this week. I've got to present some research at the local Pittsburgh Yeast Meeting this Friday, so I'm busy playing with powerpoint, etc. Based on current trends, the Yeti should keep you entertained though. Kill you if you let me down Jared!

I'd also just like to take this opportunity to say that Dr. Yeti is now the #3 hit when searching the phrase "yeti toss" through the MSN portal. We couldn't have done it without our millions of fans. As a reward to you all, here is a picture of science:

Western PA Speak

I received this list via email the other day.  Since I know that a lot of our readers are not from this area, I figured I would share this.  Learn it and love it my friends.


Ah yes! "Picksburgh." Yunz are from Picksburgh if . .1. You didn't have a spring break in high school.  Seriously, what kind of assholes have a spring break in high school?2. You walk carefully when it is "slippy" outside.  Yes.  Slippy is a word!3. You often go down to the "crick."  We swam in the crick when I was a kid.4. You've told your children to "red up" their rooms.  I always hated redding up my room.5. You can remember telling your little brother/sister to stop being so "nebby."  Don’t get nebby wit me!6. You've gotten hurt by falling into a "jaggerbush."  The willington.7. Your mother or grandmother has been seen wearing a "babushka" on her head.8. You've "warshed" the clothes.  My grandmother even went so far as calling my brother Jarsh.9. I ask you to hand me one of those "Gum-Bands" you actually know what I'm talking about.  I’ve gotten weird looks using this one.10. You know you can't drive too fast on the back roads, because of the deer.  Especially in the mountains.11. You know Beaver Valley, Turtle Crick, Mars, Slippery Rock, Greentree and New Castle are names of towns. (and you've been to most, if not all, of them.)  Show me your Beaver…county courthouse.  Show me your Beaver…county fair.12. A girl walks up to three of her girl friends and says, HEY,YENZ GUYS"  Sloth would have been way cooler if he would have used this instead of “you”.13. You hear "you guyses," and don't think twice. Example..."you guises house is nice")14. You know the three rivers by name and understand that "The Point" isn't just on a writing instrument.15. Someone refers to "The Mon" or "The Yough" and you know exactly what they're talking about.  Nothing better than Injun river names.16. You remember the blizzard of 1993 (or 1976, or 1950, or 1939, or...) and remember not being able to go outside because the snow was over your head and you would have suffocated.  Where was the blizzard this year?  The fact that the snow has been minimal pisses me off.17. Someone starts the chant, "Here we go Still-ers!" and you join in.  In the proper cadence. Waving the appropriately colored towel.  If you don’t, we’ll shoot you.
18. Bob Prince and "There's a bug loose on the rug." hold special meaning for you.  19. You've either eaten a Farkleberry Tart or know someone who has.20. You drink pop, eat hoagies, love perogies and one of your favorite sandwiches actually has coleslaw and french fries ON it.  It is pop.  Period.  It’s strange that they didn’t have perogies in the south.  Assholes.21. You know what a "still mill" is.  22. You expect temps in the winter to be record breaking cold and temps in the summer to be record breaking hot.  Unless you are in the south then it’s just retarded hot.  No wonder they are so lazy down there.23. You know what Eat 'N Park is and frequently ate breakfast there at 2:00 AM after the bar closed and made fun of people.  Eat ‘N Park’s the place for smiles.24. You order "dippy eggs" in a restaurant and get exactly what you wanted.  Is there any other way to order an egg?25. You spent your summers, or a school picnic, at Kennywood, Westview, Sand Castle, or Idlewild.  Kennywood’s open…26. You've been to the Braun's Bread Plant or Story Book Forest for a school field trip. (We went to the Heinz plant and the Isaly's plant for cub scouts.)  I came so close to pulling the sword from the stone at Story Book Forest.27. "Chipped ham" was always in your refrigerator when you were growin' up.  I went to the deli at Wally World in Monroe, LA and asked for chipped ham.  I got the strangest look.  I then told the lady that I wanted it sliced really thin.  She made five attempts until she got it right, then she spent the next 10 minutes manually working the machine to get me 2lbs of lunchmeat.  Serves her right.28. You refuse to buy any condiments besides Heinz unless a Pittsburgh athlete's picture is on the side of the container.  29. When you call the dog or the kids you shout, "Kum-mear" and they come.30. Franco, Roberto, and Mario don't need last names and you can recite their exploits by heart.31. Food at a wedding reception consists of rigatoni, stuffed cabbage, sauerkraut and polska kielbasa.

The Spillway

I love the Spillway. If you’ve never been to Corbin’s Island, aka the Spillway, while you’ve been in or around Juniata College, your life has been completely useless thus far. There’s no finer place on Earth to mix fire and meat in that wonderful tradition known as grilling. Beer tastes better there, especially when it’s free. The sun shines a little brighter, the air’s a little cleaner, and Yetis frolic with impunity.

Many was the time in the summer of 2002 that Dr. Snail (Dave Hayes) and I would grab a 30 pack…or several 30 packs…and whoever else was around to take advantage of nature’s majesty at the Spillway. Reg would bring a box of hamburgers, and the chemists would all fail to properly light and maintain a charcoal grill. I don’t know what it was, but there was a definite divide in grilling ability between the chemists and biologists. I don’t fault them; at least they can do math.

Everyone loves the Spillway differently. For most of Juniata’s rugger (uh YEAH River Rats!), the Spillway was a post-game tradition revolving around kegs, food, songs, and if no Rugby Queen was available, thinly veiled homoeroticism. Dave Hayes liked to do a little snorkeling, fishing, and general wildlife wrangling there. Some people were swimmers, others were sunbathers. You’d have frisbee in the parking lot, Krause “shwampin’” in the muck, and me stumbling around like a drunken lout soaking it all in.

If the weather was nice and you had friends in from out of town, the Spillway was a great place to show off. If your girlfriend was a badass, she’d love the Spillway too, and you could enjoy it together (or she could at least drive your drunk ass home). If you’re Whitford, you’d get sick of people’s shenanigans, and walk over the mountain and down behind Burger King to get home. If you’re Reg, you might decide to throw your car in reverse and gun it at Dave Hayes near the dumpsters to see who would flinch first. If you’re the yeti and Matt Bochman, you’d go there to drink 2 cases of beer, eat 12 bratwursts, and call an Asian bicyclist the wrong name.

Like we used to tell Shannon, “Your mission, should you choose to accept it (and you must!)” is to get your ass to the Spillway at least once before you die. Also, if you’re wealthy, we’d all enjoy it if you paid someone to pave the road going there.

The Dr. Yeti Archive

All of our misadventures are listed here in reverse chronological order with the possible exception of our newest posts which should be on the main page anyway. If I was better with HTML, this would be an easy thing to set up, but for now it’s being done manually. Enjoy my suffering.

8/08/2006 We ate a lot of steak.
8/07/2006 Shitty Wok
8/05/2006 Frank Parry was on the Titanic.
8/04/2006 A warning to men
8/03/2006 Craziness
7/31/2006 It tastes so good when it hits your lips.
7/30/2006 at last
7/22/2006 Dakota Fanning pisses me off.
7/21/2006 Matt Bochman Dancing
7/20/2006 FOR-EV-ER
7/19/2006 The Lovely Parry wedding
7/18/2006 Archive update
7/14/2006 The Revered Doctor Matthew Bochman King Jr.
7/13/2006 "Those boys are just like a couple of little old spider monkeys."
7/12/2006 MacGyver Krause needed a brochure and a sock.
7/11/2006 "He called the shit poop."
7/10/2006 Parry's bachelor party
7/09/2006 Superman Returns...to smoke pole.
7/07/2006 The two wise men.
7/06/2006 Apocalypse now
7/05/2006 Grad school interview
7/03/2006 July round up
7/01/2006 Beer goggles
6/25/2006 Time off
6/22/2006 I'm going to quit biology.
6/21/2006 It sucks to be a straight white male these days.
6/20/2006 The Dee
6/19/2006 The hits just keep on coming.
6/12/2006 Yeti migration
6/08/2006 Shake what your momma gave you.
6/07/2006 Life is short, but I'm not.
6/06/2006 Kill you Dave!
6/05/2006 Please wear deodorant.
6/04/2006 Worst fisherman ever
6/01/2004 June lessons
5/31/2006 He's a complicated man, and no one understands him but his woman.
5/30/2006 vom
5/27/2006 Knowing is half the battle.
5/25/2006 Hobbies, but not Hobby
5/24/2006 ABC = Asshole Broadcast Corporation
5/23/2006 Desperation
5/22/2006 Fish for free
5/21/2006 Random notes
5/18/2006 I Did It
5/17/2006 Something is afoot at the Circle K.
5/16/2006 I've always wanted to go to Arizona.
5/15/2006 Most forgetful Rain Man ever
5/14/2006 Dr. Yeti - The International Incident - The End?
5/13/2006 Take Me Out to the Ball Game
5/11/2006 Dr. Yeti - The International Incident pt. 4
5/10/2006 Dr. Yeti - The International Incident pt. 3
5/09/2006 I'm a big kid now.
5/08/2006 Quick, before it's gone!
5/05/2006 Dr. Yeti - The International Incident pt. 2
5/04/2006 Dr. Yeti - The International Incident
5/03/2006 HAL-9000
5/02/2006 my take
5/02/2006 Philadelphia sports fans
5/01/2006 We're #1!
5/01/2006 Frump and me and the Yeti make three.
4/26/2005 Bob Krause's scab
4/25/2006 Krause update - 2006
4/23/2006 Bob Krause was at Pig Roast.
4/20/2006 Shame
4/19/2006 If shitting your pants is cool...
4/18/2006 Ohhhhhh Maeby
4/18/2006 Matt Bochman doesn't know anything about music.
4/16/2006 It's the little things.
4/15/2006 Graffito
4/12/2006 Reverse E.D.
4/11/2006 Save Our Yuengling!
4/10/2006 Pig analysis
4/09/2006 John Rakar would love John Constantine.
4/09/2006 Damn dirty apes!
4/08/2006 Matt Bochman doesn't know best.
4/06/2006 Random Tantrum
4/05/2006 Fatman and Little Boy
4/04/2006 Ben Franklin is a douche.
4/03/2006 An Omen?
4/03/2006 A.C. Slater
4/01/2006 Dr. Yeti loves "Snakes on a Plane."
3/31/2006 These boots are made for Walken.
3/30/2006 Site 60 Vikings
3/29/2006 PAT buses
3/28/2006 Bobby Walters hates Mexicans.
3/27/2006 Not that anyone cares...
3/24/2006 Pittfinger (2)
3/22/2006 Batteries Not Included
3/21/2006 Steve the postdoc
3/20/2006 A little penis-vagina action
3/19/2006 Blogging Schmogging
3/16/2006 Oxymoron
3/15/2006 We have a perpetrator.
3/14/2006 Ballad of Forty Dollars
3/14/2006 The dregs of society
3/14/2006 1 Part Yeti, 1 Part Snail, 1 Part Trapper
3/13/2006 Colonial America was totally gay.
3/12/2006 Happy Birthday Goiter!
3/11/2006 I declare shenanigans!
3/10/2006 Happy Birthday Chuck Norris!
3/09/2006 Yeti lobster
3/09/2006 Bulleit Bourbon and bikes
3/09/2006 Back to the Future
3/08/2006 The Sloganizer
3/07/2006 Life or something like it.
3/07/2006 The chemistry of lubricants
3/06/2006 Dude
3/06/2006 Johnny says, "Taste my pain, bitch."
3/05/2006 Hank's Packard
3/04/2006 The finale of 6 Feet Under is sad.
3/03/2006 Freaky Friday
3/01/2006 Mountain Moonlight
2/28/2006 Christy is shit house drunk.
2/28/2006 Don't give me your excuses.
2/27/2006 Who Does #2 Work For?
2/26/2006 Western PA Speak
2/26/2006 The Spillway
2/25/2006 Assualt on Precinct Yeti
2/23/2006 The Pen-is Mightier for 600, Alex
2/23/2006 Don't mess with the Superfriends. I'll ruin your shit.
2/22/2006 Sammy Davis Jr. Had a Glass Eye
2/22/2006 George Dickel
2/21/2006 Glaring omissions
2/20/2006 The Superfriends unite
2/17/2006 Smallville down under
2/17/2006 Take that personal privacy!
2/16/2006 7 reasons why you hate me.
2/16/2006 Dildonic mechanism
2/16/2006 Lunch with Schmegegan
2/16/2006 Applehead
2/16/2006 Thank you Jesus.
2/15/2006 Happy birthday Mala
2/14/2006 Hi Stiffler.
2/13/2006 The Bio Department wants you!
2/13/2006 What's in a Name? pt 5
2/13/2006 What's in a name, part 4
2/10/2006 What's in a Name? Pt 3
2/10/2006 What's in a name, part 2
2/09/2006 Two in the "Pink"
2/09/2006 HEY! Am I old!?!?
2/08/2006 What's in a Name?
2/07/2006 Random Rant
2/07/2006 Mass emails, go!
2/07/2006 Scotch, scotch, scotch
2/06/2006 Get some culture.
2/04/2006 Put food in me.
2/03/2006 HERE WE GO STEELERS, HERE WE GO!!!
2/02/2006 Why Matt Bochman wants to kill everything
2/01/2006 Uncle Glen
2/01/2006 The scientist goes on a trip.
1/31/2006 State of the Yeti Address
1/31/2006 "It's like I'm taking crazy pills!"
1/30/2006 Hey!!!! Is that old????
1/30/2006 American Beauty
1/29/2006 Neuroscience party
1/28/2006 The Year of the Dog, part 2
1/27/2006 The Year of the Dog
1/26/2006 Christy's arm glands
1/25/2006 Observations n'at
1/24/2006 One more home remedy
1/23/2006 Brokeback Broncos
1/22/2006 No jinx!
1/21/2006 Mullets in the Mall
1/21/2006 Go Stillers!
1/20/2006 The cure for the common cold
1/19/2006 Thursday sucks.
1/18/2006 The Krause Chronicles, part one
1/18/2006 He Called the Shit, Poop
1/17/2006 Happy birthday, happy apartment, happy Bochman
1/16/2006 Napmare
1/12/2006 Genetically drunk
1/11/2006 The Rule of 3
1/09/2006 Ribbed for her pleasure
1/08/2006 Lazy Sunday
1/07/2006 Blue Bayou
1/07/2006 Bochman's bathroom is a death trap.
1/06/2006 Mr. Mom
1/06/2006 Jess is on Avenue A, Bochman is on the couch
1/05/2006 Don't touch me there.
1/05/2006 Pissed Off Yeti
1/04/2006 Slimey limey
1/03/2006 R.I.P. Blue
1/03/2006 In Honor of Our Counter
1/02/2006 Field of Dreams (and neurotoxins)
1/01/2006 Don't look up.
12/31/2005 Kill New Year's Eve
12/31/2005 You Don't Always Have to Bump
12/30/2005 Frank via Darren
12/29/2005 The Manhattan Project
12/29/2005 Where's Arnie?
12/28/2005 Jew Jerky
12/27/2005 Hardy belly laugh
12/27/2005 Fort Necessity
12/26/2005 A Very Mountain Christmas
12/26/2005 crazeye
12/25/2005 Tiny Tim sold his crutch on eBay
12/23/2005 XX vs. XY, grudge match of the century
12/22/2005 A Christmas Gift
12/21/2005 Of Rebels and Men
12/21/2005 X-mas presents so far...
12/20/2005 Just one pitcher
12/20/2005 A Tribute
12/19/2005 Uniform
12/18/2005 Happy Weekiversary
12/17/2005 Trusty Steed
12/17/2005 I'm that guy
12/17/2005 Billy Hole
12/16/2005 Free Beer Friday
12/15/2005 Some thoughts on Lowsyana
12/15/2005 Pittfinger
12/14/2005 The legend of the Ruster
12/13/2005 Why Nap-time is Fun
12/13/2005 Oh my dear god...
12/12/2005 Don't make me take you to church young man!
12/11/2005 Our (my) first post...

Assualt on Precinct Yeti

What an eventful night my fairy pets!!  The night began with yours truly making a totally awesome quesadilla.  When you take a yeti add some primo beef, sautéed onions and green peppers and mozzarella cheese you pretty much get fantastic.  After I finished my meal my nephew arrived because his mother was going grocery shopping and it’s much easier to do without him.  So we played and played.  He liked running his miniature four-wheeler over my face although it wasn’t quite as fun for me and then he decided to pull things off of my dresser.  Luckily nothing was hurt and he didn’t pull anything down on himself.  He then found some extra pillows in my closet, put them in the middle of the floor and proceeded to fall on them – face first – over and over again.

Well, everything was going fine and then we got a phone call from his mother, my sister-in law.  Apparently she went to Wally World in Mt. Pleasant to buy her groceries.  While placing the groceries in the trunk of her car, she was mugged.  She was crying and hysterical on the phone, so Marty and I jumped in the car and bolted down off the mountain.  I really think Marty was going to shat his pants with me taking corners on country roads at excessively high speeds.  In all, it took 10 minutes to get there when it normally takes 25 minutes.  So we get there and she’s in the little eyeglasses cove of Wally World on the phone with her bank canceling her debit card.

At this point, the incident was vague, so she filled us in.  She was at the trunk of her car, taking the groceries out of the cart and putting them into the car.  She noticed a car coming down the parking lot, from the store, without it’s lights on.  They pulled into the spot next to her and a guy/kid got out and came towards her.  They both grabbed her purse, which was on the top tier of the cart, at the same time.  She held on, but he pulled her to the ground and eventually the strap broke loose and they were off.  She jumped up and punched the car window, but to no avail.  These hoodlums, there were three – two boys and a girl – sped off into the night.  There were witnesses, a guy and woman were in a car parked nearby and saw the whole incident.  It was a white four door Saturn.  No one was able to get the plates.  So there we were, inside Wally World trying to comfort her and helping her get everything taken care of, read:  cancel all credit cards!  The whole situation is a mess.  It’s a major pain in the ass for someone to have to call various corporations to cancel cards, you’re on the phone for a long time.  Her phone was in the purse, so she had to call and cancel that.  Her SS card was in the purse, she’ll have to get that taken care of…and we all know what it’s like to deal with government entities, it sucks balls.  Her newly acquired driver’s license was in there as well, noting her address, which made things a bit more interesting because there was a house key nestled somewhere in the purse too.  So, Marty and I sped back up the mountain just in case we were actually dealing with semi-intelligent thugs who would have seen an easy opportunity to break into their house.  As I suspected, we weren’t dealing with criminal minds equivalent to myself or Matty Bochman.  Today my brother had to make a trip somewhere to buy a new lock for the door and I don’t think he was too happy about it.

Didn’t Wally World catch them on surveillance, you ask?  Well yes, but the camera system at this particular establishment are a bit outdated and the guy who is able to work the surveillance equipment will not be in until Monday.  

Was there an actual security officer working at the store?  Apparently not.  It was the manager who was there to assist us.  I imagine there was some fat redneck in the back eating donuts and watching the cameras, but the sight of said person would scare away business, so they kept him in the back.  Remember, this area is considered the “mountains” by all you folk not from up here and even the people that I don’t consider to be from the mountain you would and yes, they are the typical mountain person you think of when you hear the expression…big, dumb and toothless.  

Weren’t the police there right away?  Nope, not at all.  As explained to us by the manager, this Wally World is outside the jurisdiction of the local town so they relied on the State Police, which made me feel a lot better because I rather take a state boy that a local yokel.  The problem with this is that they are dispatched out of Greensburg, a town about half an hour away and the manager said that it usually takes them a couple hours to respond to a call.  Well, the officer arrived 3 hours after the incident and when told the nature of the situation immediately called the base.  You see, the folks at Wally World, when the reported the incident to the police, told them that it was a theft.  It wasn’t.  It was robbery, a more serious offense and a felony yet to boot.  Oh yeah, and the fact that they drug her to the ground could be considered assault.  The officer apologized to my sister-in law for this mix-up even though it wasn’t his fault.  He then proceeded to roll his eyes when he learned how obsolete the camera system was at the store.

Well, that was my Friday night in a nutshell.  Rest assured, if I see a four door taint-fisting Saturn somewhere with a blonde girl driving it, I’ll exact a little mountain revenge.  See, we do things a bit different up here.  And there’s a good chance I might see said car, so if you’re out there four door Saturn, just know that I, like Chuck Norris, do not wait.

And added note, it was a godsend that my nephew was not with her.  That would have only served to piss me off even more.  And we all know, we don’t like an angry yeti.

The Pen-is Mightier for 600, Alex

What follows is a script that was written for All Class Night.  Unfortunately because Dawn Scialabalbalblablabla was a huge bitch, we never got to act it out.  I’m convinced that this would have been one of the best skits ever performed for ACN.  Just look at the cast, a dream team if I’ve ever seen one.

I apologize that I have nothing “original” to post today.  My brain has been stuck on repeat, so to speak, and you all really don’t want to listen to me whine and moan.  Jared Miller gets a little introspective at times.

So, without further ado…

Faculty Jeopardy

Cast of Characters

TK Trebek – David Hayes
Kris Klarkson – Matt Bochman
Tim Launtz – Reg
Coach Smith – Jared Miller
Announcer – David Hayes


Set –
Table with names in front where contestants stand.

Game board with categories

Need- jeopardy music



Script

Announcer—The Director of Residential Life and major pain in the ass at Juniata College, Tim Launtz
(Tim Launtz takes his place)
The Dean of Students and local drunken son of a bitch, Kris Klarkson
(Kris Klarkson stumbles to his place)
A strength and conditioning coach, role model to many meatheads at Juniata College, and returning champion by threat of bodily harm to the host, Coach Doug Smith.
(Coach Smith takes his place).


And now the host of Faculty Jeopardy, TK TREBEK!
(TK Trebek takes stage)
TK Trebek – Well, we’ve had an exciting game so far. Let’s take a minute to meet our contestants and find out the charities which they are playing for.
Tim, has $105. Tim, tell us who you are playing for.
Tim—I am playing for Habitat for Humanity
TK Trebek – Outstanding. Dean Klarkson, at a nice round zero dollars. Kris, tell us who you are playing for.
Klarkson – Well TK, today I am playing for Alcoholics Anonymous.
TK Trebek – Wonderful. Finally we have Coach Smith with a record negative $200,000. Please do not hurt me and tell us who you are playing for.
Coach Smith – I will be playing for the United Negro College Fund.


Trebek – Ok let’s get back to the game. Tim, its your choice.
Tim—I’ll take “Housings, Dwellings, and Domiciles” for $800, TK.
Trebek – The answer is, “Where extra students are placed when too many freshmen are admitted.”
Tim – What are study lounges, laundry rooms, basements, possibly broom closets.
Trebek – That is correct.
Tim – I’ll take “Drugs” for $600.
Trebek – “This common narcotic commonly skews one’s perception of reality”
Klarkson – What is alcohol?
Trebek – Incorrect
Launtz – What is power?
Trebek—Incorrect
Coach Smith – Steroids!!
Trebek – That is correct but I am sorry we cannot award you any points because you did not phrase it in the form of a question. Tim, your choice.
(Coach Smith interrupts)
Coach Smith – Hey Trebek, how much do you bench?
Trebek – Uhh, I’m sorry, I do not lift weights.
Coach Smith – What? Lift up your skirt Trebek and show us your muff!!
Trebek – OoooK, Tim still your choice.
Tim – I’ll take “Moist Things” for $800
Trebek – This, sometimes moist phenomenon has plagued forgetful computer users for four years.
Klarkson – What is poopfinger?
Trebek – Correct, and you’re on the plus side.
Klarkson – I’ll take “Baker Etiquette” for $400
Trebek – It is common courtesy to do this when a student drops his/her cup in Baker Refectory.
Klarkson – What is, run over and try to save any wasted drops of sweet delicious alcohol?
Trebek—Incorrect.
Tim Launtz – What is, slap them with a $105 dollar fine?
Trebek – Incorrect.
Coach Smith – What is, WHOAAAAAAA!
Trebek—Correct! It is now time for Final Faculty Jeopardy Question. The category is “Wastes of College Tuition” and the answer is, “This is the best, most efficient way to waste college tuition.”

Jeopardy Music Plays
Contestants scribble down answers. Coach smith tries to copy klarkson’s answer)

Trebek -- Tim, let’s see what you have. “What is, put up more ‘Real Students’ billboards.” Sorry, that is incorrect. Kris, what did you come up with? “What is build a science center, don’t finish the basement and lock all the computer labs 24 hours of the day then place sod only to dig it up days later to fix broken water lines etc. etc.” That is correct Kris. Coach Smith, let’s see how you did. You drew a football play. True, this is a waste of money but not the most efficient way to waste money. It looks like Kris Klarkson by drunken luck is the winner.

(Scene closes as Coach Smith gets roid rage and destroys the set with jeopardy music in background.)

Don't mess with the Superfriends. I'll ruin your shit.

A few days ago, I posted some of my opinions.  I don’t think people like a lot of what I have to say, but that’s the great thing – you can have your own opinions too.  Chances are I think your opinions suck or that you’re a goddamn bleeding heart taint-fister.  If you hate me and my mental twists, good for you!  Go give the shocker to your pets for all I care.

If you hate someone else’s opinions, tell them about it, and make them feel bad, then you can gargle with the yeti’s bunderwear (i.e. boxer briefs) and brush your teeth with my dead gay dog’s seminal fluid.

Something along these lines happened to Becky.  She posted on her blog, someone’s feelings were hurt, they in turn hurt Becky’s feelings, and then it was a big feelings cluster fuck.  I commented on the situation because I protect my friends and say what I want.  Having slightly more social grace than me, Becky might remove the comment.  For those of you that care, I’ve shared it below:

I see no need for you to have to apologize.  You started the Zero Tact Club on Facebook.  Take pride in it!  If people are such little bitches that they can't handle your opinions and/or criticisms, then they can lick my taint!  What happened to people in this country?  You don't need to grow up; Americans need to stop being pussies.  "Oh no, someone said something unpleasant about me (sniffle).  Whoa is me, somebody doesn't think I'm as badass as I do (cry)."  Suck it up.  Be a man.  If you're a woman, grow a set and be a man anyway.  Don't like what I'm saying?  That's cool, you're allowed to have your own views.  Wallow in my germit, douches.

Don’t mess with the Superfriends.  I’ll ruin your shit.

Sammy Davis Jr. Had a Glass Eye

I don’t really know where to begin.  So much has been covered by the other bloggernauts (a combination of blogger and juggernaut…quite crafty, don’t you think?) already that I may relegate myself to talking about nonsense.  But this really wouldn’t be any different than all the other times I have sat down by my computer to type to you folks out there in cyber-land.  

This past weekend was a blast.  The only comparable blast known to exist in the universe at present is a patented Chuck Norris roundhouse kick.  That being said, I’m sure you all understand that this was no ordinary weekend.  I had to work a bit Saturday, helping my brother install some ductwork.  I cut the hell out of my finger on a piece of band iron.  It bled like a….well, you fill this one in.  I couldn’t work fast enough that morning, all in anticipation of making a short jaunt to the ‘Burgh.

I arrived at Chez Bochman around 4ish and thankfully he came out to help me carry up my things.  The four loveliest ladies in the world, Jess, Lini, Becky and Mala, were already there.  We all made our hellos and then Matt and I made a chilly trip to the liquor store to secure some wine.

Okay, so here’s the deal.  I was gonna write some good stuff here, but I don’t feel like it anymore.  I really have no idea why, but that’s just the way it is.  Instead, I’m gonna make a little list.  Think of me what you will, I’ve got a little space to fill…or something like that.

• Bochman reprimanded me for lighting the birthday candle repeatedly.  At first I thought it was because I’m not supposed to play with fire, but then he explained to me that b-day candle was used to light the bigger candles.  I didn’t feel as much like a little kid after that.


• We didn’t get the Little Pink Box of Wine that Lini was referring to.  After searching the web, I couldn’t find one place that sold the stuff, but I did find a bunch of people referencing it.  I’m pretty much sure that this is the unicorn of alcoholic beverages.  Nonetheless, the pink box of wine I came home with was tasty.  Oh, and Lini wouldn’t let me read the directions on how to open the box of wine.  She is such a pro at it that she just opened it without reading the directions.  I was impressed.


• The cd that Becky brought was the shiznit.  I believe the mix was called “Warm Fuzzy”.  It was quality.


• Clutch performance?  Bochman and Mala, for leaving the Christmas tree up and decorating it for Valentine’s Day.


• Game that Mala kicked everyone’s asses at:  Dance Dance Revolution.


• I lost my nose somewhere in Bochman’s living room.


• No one would give me a strawberry starburst, no matter how much I complained and bitched that I hated any and all other starbursts (which is a lie, but I do favor the strawberry).  As a continuation of her past trends, Jess ate all the strawberry starbursts and yet again ruined my life.  I think her and Bochman conspire against me.


• The mirror was definitely my enemy.


• In Becky’s pictures I am wearing a pink cowboy hat (See Bochman’s post).  I don’t remember it.  Who put that on me anyhow?  It wasn’t me, was it?


• Matt Bochman is quite the accomplished writer.


• Nothing was better than hearing Lini laugh.


• Becky danced and I danced.  I liked dancing, especially to Henry Mancini’s “Baby Elephant Walk”.  Lini wanted me to keep dancing, she was laughing, although I’m not sure whether she was laughing at me, or laughing because my dancing made her happy.  Does that make any sense?


• I got two complaints about the pictures that I took.  1) Becky didn’t enjoy the Sunday morning pic where she looked tired as hell.  2) Lini didn’t like the one with her and Jess on the futon.  Apparently she is in her pj’s in that one.  I bet you wouldn’t have known, had I told you, eh?


• I’m convinced that Mala will be the greatest banjo player ever.  Period.


• I think Jess took my picture dancing in front of the tree, but I have yet to see it.


• Bochman’s black couch, which I now refer to as the Black Death, totally killed my lower back.  KILL!


• Nothing beats my favorite of favorite songs, “Scarlet Begonias”, playing randomly through the dvd player.  Just a little taste, because I can’t resist (and a pertinent line)….


• I ain’t often right but I’ve never been wrong // It seldom turns out the way it does in the song // Once in a while you get shown the light in the strangest of places if you look at it right


• The atmosphere of the evening was spectacular.  You could feel all the love and happiness that everyone exuded.  It truly was a magical weekend.  Thank you all.

George Dickel

I get a lot of spam email. It’s usually the normal stuff, you know, Increase the size of your penis, Get a loan now!, Pre$ciption Med$, 14 year old blonde takes on goat…that kind of thing. I’ve got several email addresses that I use for different things, and I’ve seen this nonsense in all of my inboxes. Today was no different, but I’ve never gotten a gem quite like this one:

From: George Dickel
To: The Scientist
Date: 22-Feb-06
Subject: George Dickel No. 8 in Limited Supply

Wanted: George Dickel

Dear Friends,

Greetings from Cascade Hollow, Tennessee!

I am writing today with some good new and some bad news. The good news is that today, more and more folks are finding out that George Dickel is truly the best Tennessee whisky in the world. The bad news is that it is now becoming the rarest, too. And at the risk of sounding the alarm, there just may not be enough to go around in 2006.

Due to popular demand, we will no longer be able to provide George Dickel No. 8 all across the country. Because so many whisky connoisseurs are enjoying the best sippin’ whisky around (and who can blame them?), we’ve had to make some hard choices and for the time being only supply George Dickel No. 8 in a few markets and at the distillery here at Cascade Hollow.

But don’t despair, you can still find George Dickel No. 12 at your favorite retail outlet. We’re really sorry about this because we know how you feel about George Dickel. But if you like George Dickel No. 8 as much as we do, you’re gonna’ love George Dickel No. 12.

As a loyal consumer, we wanted you to know that while the supply of George Dickel No. 8 may have slowed to a trickle in some places, we continue to be committed to providing you with the best Tennessee whisky in the world, and we hope you will continue to sip responsibly.

Best wishes for happy and healthy 2006!

Guy L. Smith
Executive Vice President
George A. Dickel & Co.

Now, I’ve never had a drink of George Dickel in my life. Hell, I’ve never even heard of the nonsense. I’ll never know how they (he?) got my email address or why they felt the need to warn me of the trickle of Dickel No. 8. What’s the difference between the 8 and 12 anyway, four more rednecks pissing in the No. 12 tanks?

I don’t even know why I like this email so much; I just get a tickle from the Dickel. According to George though, he knows how I feel, and he’s really sorry for the lack of whisky in America. Good, good for him.

Glaring omissions

Two things have recently been brought to my attention: 1.) I forgot an important fact about the Superfriends weekend, and 2.) I’ve never mentioned my little sister in the blog.

First things first, not only did Jess and I end Friday night watching Poison Ivy 2, but we called it quits on Saturday to the film magic of “Too Legit: The MC Hammer Story.”  I’ve known for some time now that Jess likes to fall asleep to a little TV, and Comcast didn’t disappoint with its selections.  Nothing beats watching a black dude in parachute pants yelling at other black people in various and sundry dancing clothes while his best friend/business associate is getting shot in the arm during a drug deal gone horribly wrong.  I’ll never understand why this movie didn’t get wider exposure and critical acclaim.

I have a beef with movie critics, but I’ll save that for another time.

Ok kids, now on to my sister.  Her name is Shannon, but I often call her Goiter, as it’s listed in my cell phone.  She doesn’t have a Goiter (that I know of), but hey, nicknames don’t always have to make sense.  She’s going to be 22 this year, and like every Bochman, is a dirty drunk.  Also, like normal Bochmans, she drinks swill (i.e. Miller Lite) pretty exclusively.  I’m not saying I won’t drink swill, but I do like delicious beer most of the time.

Uh, back to little sis.  One time, she tried to drown me.  Another time, she bruised my scrotum.  She’s also got the worst dog in history.  Well, to call it a dog is an insult to real dogs.  This thing is more like a cat…a crappy cat.  I often call it Doug.  So yeah, I have a sister named Shannon.  She has a roommate named Shannon.  I used to have a roommate named Shannon.  There’s a river called Shannon in Ireland.  What do they all have in common?

Herpes.

Goiter’s roommate Shannon is a trip.  She’s constantly high, and I mean constantly.  She grows her own herb and smokes like a Vegas lounge act.  At any point during the day, if you show her a shiny object, she’ll forget what she’s doing, wonderingly play with it while giggling, and then get the munchies something fierce.  This girl stuffed her Thanksgiving turkey with ganja.  Chances are she makes a little bathtub crank on the side too.  Kids these days…

That’s it for now.  Stay tuned for a rambling description of my older sister.

The Superfriends unite

I apologize for the lack of posts this weekend, but I was busy with the Superfriends. Busy having a ridiculous good time!

Jess (the Socialite) and Becky (the Beckeroo Banzai) showed up late on Friday with hugs for me and Mala. I don’t think Mala has really met either of them before, so they told her not to be afraid, but Mala’s a kung fu expert and can handle herself. After a little settling in and makeup application, Jess’s friend from high school Samantha came over. It turns out that she lives on the same street as Becky and Christy (a scant 0.42 miles away), and is awesome. She brought delicious brownies with caramel and nuts, and she reminded me a lot of Jess. Needless to say, she’ll get an invite to the next shindig.

Well, being as it was late and lots of driving had just occurred for the ladies, we basically just sat around and had a few drinks. Two more of Jess’s friends (Brendon and Randy) came over for a little, but I think we hit the hay around 2. Jess and I attempted to watch Poison Ivy 2 before bed, but cheap HBO sequels are only so entertaining.

In the morning, there was a small Arctic trek to Starbucks, and then we all got cleaned up and headed north to Grove City in the trusty Escape. We were going to meet Jess’s momma for lunch (who for some reason loves me and who I love back). The food at Rachel’s Roadhouse was pretty tasty (3 Cheeseburger, go!), and the waitress reminded me of someone who I can’t quite place…

Back at Casa de Shenker, the ladies collected cowboy hats, crayons, and other fun sparkly things in anticipation of a silly night while I talked to Jess’s mom about all manner of things. We all played with the ponies in the barn a little too, and then another of the famous Poker Girls, Lini, showed up.

Lini came back to Pittsburgh with us, and in a magical unscripted Superfriends moment, the yeti himself arrived 60 seconds later with a pillow and cooler full of ice cream pie. He and I took a jaunt on down to the liquor store for a fine box of wine, and the ladies played Dance Dance Revolution with Mala. We were looking for something called The Pretty Pink Box or something like that, essentially a small box of wine in pink cube that Lini fell in love with in Colorado. We found a pink cube of wine, but it wasn’t quite right. Jared still drank the hell out of it.

Anywho, much drinking, fun, and hilarity ensued. I’m sure pictures will be posted by Jess, Becky, and/or Jar-head, but this one’s pretty great so I’ll toss it up here:For the millions of Dr. Yeti's fans that don't know, that's Lini, Jared, Jess, me, and Becky. Is it just me, or was Jared born to wear a small pink cowboy hat? He is from the (Brokeback) Mountain afterall...

Lazy Sunday saw the sad departure of Lini and Jess, but Jared and I decided to spread just a little more love by cooking up a big batch of Yeti Gumbo:
10 cups chicken stock
1 each red, yellow, and green bell pepper
2 ribs celery
1 yellow onion
1/4 red onion
8 oz. mushrooms
4 cloves garlic, chopped
3/4 cup dark roux
4 bay leaves
3 chicken breasts diced
1 smoked sauage
2 pounds shrimp
Secret herbs and spices

Then I had to go to work today. Being awake and sciencing is stupid.

Smallville down under

It's Friday night, and I'm waiting for the Socialite and the Becky in Progress to show up. In the mean time, I've decided to kill time by looking at other people's blogs. I found one written by a 13 year old girl from Australia. She loves Tom Welling and thus Smallville. Matt Bochman also loves Smallville. Chances are, Mala could be best friends with Loz Jellybean and watch the first two seasons together. TV is great.

Take that personal privacy!

Some people have been wondering how I knew where people are and what they're searching for when they end up here (see Twinsburg post). Well, Jared and I are internet genuises (read: technologically retarded), but we also have a sweet little site meter that keeps track of some things for us. It let's us know where the last 100 people have logged in from both visually:
And in list form (for the traffic voyeurs out there). We've got the Mid-Atlantic states blanketed, but there's sparse viewing from the rest of the US and internationally:
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
Linda-a-Velha, Lisboa, Portugal
Azevedo, Porto, Portugal
Philippines
Mexico, Distrito Federal, Mexico
Scarborough, Ontario, Canada

Seriously though, what were yinz yard apes doing on February 5th?

Jared and I almost quit that day because we thought you hated us.

Anyway, this is our Patriot Act blogware (I'm not sure if I can call it software, so I'll just coin that term if no one else has beat me to it). We're like Santa Claus; we can see you.

7 reasons why you hate me.

I have opinions.  Where my dad used to work, they said that, “Opinions are like assholes.  Everyone has one, and they usually stink.”  Because I am an asshole, having opinions pretty much doubles my assholery.  For instance:

1. Politics is useless.  I’ve never voted, and I don’t plan on starting.  Politicians are crooked, but I don’t blame then; if someone was trying to buy me off, I’d probably let them too.  See, there’s no one good to vote for.  Any decent person stays the hell away from politics or is undecentified by getting involved.  Plus, no one political has any opinions (and thus no asshole?) because if you piss off voters, you’re not getting elected.  I don’t care of the President is a Democrat or Republican, I’ve never seen any difference.  


2. If you’re gay, you shouldn’t try to convince straight guys to go see Brokeback Mountain.  There was a homosexual movie critic that wrote an entire article about why straight dudes should go see “the gay cowboy movie.”  Two of his arguments were that it shouldn’t matter if it’s two guys getting it on, it’s still just a love story, and you get to see Anne Hathaway’s boobs.  Well, no offense sir, but straight guys don’t want to see love stories to begin with, so having two guys involved isn’t helping the situation.  Further, according to Julia, Anne Hathaway’s boobs aren’t that great, and even if they were, I’d just look at them on the internet.


3. I think the word homophobia is one of the most misused words in modern society.  In connection with opinion 2, homosexual men have been quoted saying that all of the Brokeback Mountain jokes you hear these days are homophobic.  Listen, homophobia literally means a fear of homosexuals.  If I make a Brokeback joke (and I’ve made a few), it’s not because I’m scared of gay cowboys.  I’m deadly afraid of orchards.  The only proper time to use homophobia is if a gay guy is trying to rape you.  I’d be afraid then.


4. Religion is bad.  Religion causes war.  Religion causes social angst.  My family claims to be religious.  They aren’t.  They argue about it a lot.


5. You can’t describe large groups of people without using stereotypes.  I find that most stereotypes are true, not necessarily for everyone under a certain blanket description, but for the majority.  Hell, that’s how the stereotypes get started.


6. Vegetarianism is stupid.  Well, let me rephrase that.  If your religion doesn’t let you eat meat, it’s silly but ok.  If you don’t like the taste of meat, that’s fine too.  If I don’t like the way something tastes, I’m sure not going to eat it.  However, if you don’t eat meat because you think there’s something wrong with killing animals, you’re a tard.  Humans are animals.  If other animals kill for food, we should too.  If you eat vegetables, you have to kill them.  For you to eat, something must die.  Also, the extra protein from meat is what allowed humanity’s immediate ancestors to develop the extra cranial capacity necessary for abstract thought.  Plus let’s face it, meat is delicious.


7. Biologists should rule the world.

Dildonic mechanism

One of Jared’s hobbies in college was to verbally berate Shannon, whether he deserved it or not.  I think it’s mostly because the yeti has undiagnosed ADD (none of that ADHD shit) and needed something to occupy his time.  On one such occasion, Jared was riding shotgun while Shannon was driving us somewhere.  Mid-drive, the yeti started fidgeting and going through the glove compartment.  He pulls out a tire gauge (or some other small metallic object) and asks in a tone of utter disbelief and exasperation, “Shannon, is this some kind of dildonic mechanism!?!”  Needless to say, the Krause and I had a good laugh while Shannon was left wondering why God hated him so much.

Lunch with Schmegegan

I had lunch with Megan Little on Tuesday.  It was good to see her after all this time post-Juniata.  The sick thing is, she’s been working just a few blocks up 5th Ave. from me for the longest time, and we only just saw each other this week.  She’s a lab tech (soon to be filthy rich lab manager) for the chair of the Neuro department, so she’s been pretty busy.  I’m a Tony Jr. in a new lab for a guy trying to get tenure, so I’ve been pretty busy.  Being busy is stupid.

Applehead

Christy Marie Reedy is a pirate.  She also hates protein, silver, and gold.  But just yellow gold; she’s down with white gold, platinum, and titanium.  She’s going to live in the south in the valley of a mountain near the beach in a house on stilts next to some palm trees.  When she gets bored of that, she’s going to move to a town that isn’t there yet and become both the mayor and the governor.  Winning Powerball may also be involved.

Thank you Jesus.

Holy shit, I love the internet!  Someone from Twinsburg, Ohio was just using the MSN search portal, i.e. http://search.msn.com, to look for “vagina nicknames,” and the Dr. Yeti blog popped up as one of the search results.  I’m assuming because we have 5 posts about nicknames and one about the Vagina Monologues (make that 6 and 2 now I guess), MSN saw fit to connect the two and misdirect this poor soul.  Good, good for us.

I feel the need to create a list of vagina nicknames now…

Happy birthday Mala

Today is Mala’s birthday.  She just turned 16.  As a child prodigy, I had to get her something educational, so I ordered up Seasons 1 & 2 of Smallville.  If you like pretty people, young Superman, and/or Kryptonite then Smallville is the TV show for you.  

To be honest, she opened her presents a little early last night.  But who can blame her!?!  We turned our Christmas tree into a Valentine’s Day tree, and the dishes were freshly done.  Some sort of gift was necessary.  Necessary…NECESSARY!?!  “Is it necessary that I drink my own urine?  No, but it’s sterile and I like the taste.”  Sorry, I channel Patches O’Houlihan whenever I hear or read the word necessary.

Anyway, I dropped the ball and didn’t think to get Bob Marla a cake or invite everyone over to sing a little Happy Birthday, so I figured I’d clean the place up.  I Swiffer WetJetted the kitchen and bathroom floors, cleaned the top of the stove (well, it’s not really too clean, does anyone know a really good surface cleaner for baked on stains?), vacuumed, and cleaned out the fridge a little.

The Simpsons are trying to do some social commentary on religion.  It pissed me off.  

Hi Stiffler.

Here we are; it’s Valentine’s Day once again.  If you have a boyfriend, girlfriend, hermaphrodite, favorite sheep, or any combination thereof, you probably had a pretty good day.  If you’re a lonely, disfigured, useless piece of humanity like me, your day was either normal or extra shitty.

I don’t know that I’ve ever had a good Valentine’s Day.  It’s one of the occupational hazards of being chronically single.  Now, normally, I wouldn’t even bother to write about such nonsense, but I was inspired this week.  Yesterday, Danielle Stiffler gave me a call, and I haven’t talked to Stiffy in many a moon.  We were doing a little reminiscing, and later that night, I started to think about the first time I met the Stifflah.  It was actually at an anti-Valentine’s Day party in college.

Now, because I’m lazy, I’m going to fill this post with an essay I wrote in March 2005 for Shannon, Jared, and Darren entitled, “How to get drunk and smoke no less than an entire pack of cigarettes.”  It’s really about Stiffler as you’ll see below, but be warned, I was but a mere baby when I wrote it.  I think I’ve mellowed with age, but judge for yourself:

It would be pleasing to begin this essay by simply stating that there is only one way to get drunk and smoke no less than an entire pack of cigarettes.  Indeed, my readers may agree that it would also be acceptable if there were a single preferred method out of the hundreds of possibilities.  However, getting drunk and smoking no less than an entire pack of cigarettes, like life, is seldom that simple.  With this essay, I aim to use anecdotal evidence, sophistry, and Jedi mind tricks to fully explain Matt Bochman’s life-experience with alcohol and tobacco, as well as demonstrate why Matt Bochman should drink the first beer on the Coonass Canoe Trip (Editor’s note: The Coonass Canoe Trip has yet to occur, but I still haven’t given up hope).

Legend has it that on a blistery cold day in February near the beginning of the current millennium, Matt Bochman drank no less than 384 beers and smoked no less than Stiffler’s entire pack of cigarettes.  It’s a quaint tale, and anthropological research has shown it to be completely true.  However, it is a gross oversimplification of the evening’s events and ramifications.

During a dark time in the life of a simple Pennsylvania Dutchman named Matt Bochman, he was invited to a modern day Tower of Babel cartographically named East.  Having masturbated approximately 40 times that week and having nothing better to do for the foreseeable future, he accepted the invitation and put on his drinking shoes.  He commenced to sit in a chair, not unlike the Stink Chair of Viking lore, and drink can after can of Key Light while watching some horseshit on TV and listening to stupid bitches babble on about stupid things.

Then, out of nowhere, a tiny sprite with a devilish aspect arrived and set the Boch-cock astir.  This pixie-hellion went by the name of Danielle Stiffler.  She liked to drink, she liked to smoke, and she liked to tell her boyfriends that she thought about Matt Bochman while she masturbated.  Curiously, Matt Bochman thinks about werewolves and the awesome power of yeast genetics while jerking off.

In any event, 50 Key Lights tends to put a man in a certain state of mind, so in order to get to know Stiffler a little better, Matt Bochman decided to continue to drink heavily and do everything that Stiffler suggested he do.  In layman’s terms, he obeyed Stiffy due to a stiffy.  This obviously led to the inhalation of no less than Stiffler’s entire pack of cigarettes while in an intoxicated state due to the consumption of no less than 384 beers.  Now, if 50 Key Lights will put a man in a silly frame of mind, 384 Key Lights and the finest tobacco that the state of Virginia can offer will wreck even the steeliest of cognitive machines.  In the case of one Mr. Matthew Q. Bochman, it rendered him completely retahded (as they say in Boston).

So, my eager young minds, if you want to get drunk and smoke no less than an entire pack of cigarettes like Matt Bochman, you have two choices.  First, you can drink 50 beers in the presence of a baboon, meet a woman that will stay out of reach for 3 years, and then finish the evening by ingesting another 334 beers judiciously interspersed with smoking breaks.  Alternatively, you can choose to stay at home, eat pork chops, watch lesbians have sex on Showtime, and drink and smoke alone like a real man.  In all honesty, that’s the true road to happiness.

As Stephen King says, “and now constant reader,” let me share some advice with you.  Never get involved or allow yourself to even be attracted to a woman shorter than 5’6” or taller than 5’10”.  As my old man says, “keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut.”  Cheers to beers my brethren, and props to hops my homies.

Done and done…go!

The Bio Department wants you!

I apologize for the lack of scientist posts for the past few days.  It was one of the department’s recruiting weekends, so I was busy wining and dining soon-to-be scientists in hopes of convincing them to play science with me.  I wonder how many more times I can squeeze science into these sentences…

On Saturday, we took the troops to a brewpub in the Waterfront called Rock Bottom.  The brown ale there is delicious, and the food, which tends to be prepared with one of their beers in some manner or another, is also good.  I’m proud to say that every recruit ordered a beer, and none of them seemed to be dirty hippies because plenty of meat was consumed.  The calamari appetizer rocked my face off.  The pub tips in brown ale sauce were good, but Julia ate most of them while she waited for her chicken in brown ale sauce to show up.  

There were 12 or 14 people involved (half recruits, half grad students), so we were sitting at a long table.  At one point, each end of the table ordered 2.5 liters of beer (and a liter of foam those cheap bastards) in a beer tower and we raced to finish it.  Do I even need to tell you whose team won?

After a ginormous piece of carrot cake, we all headed over to Dave and Busters to drink the hell out of some more booze and play games.  I played below my ability the first time on the race car game, then totally destroyed three other people including a big talking Julia van Gulia.  Despite my prowess in the arcade atmosphere, I still didn’t collect enough tickets to get any type of prize.  I was driving that night too, so I couldn’t even throw a hardy drunk on.  It’s probably better that way; I don’t want to scare away the next generation of promising scientists with my usual antics.

Anyway, Sunday rolled around, and after the recruits met with some faculty, we took them for pan-Asian cuisine at Lu Lu’s.  The egg rolls sucked ass, but everything else was tasty.  I usually get General Tso’s there because I’m a boring tool, but I tried the spicy basil noodle plate this time.  It was ok, but I think the General would’ve treated me better.

Then the snow hit.  We didn’t get 27 inches like Central Park or anything, but the worst of it came right when we had to take the recruits to dinner at the house of two developmental biologists.  I was driving the mighty Ford, laughing at the feeble people without 4-wheel drive, and then some douche bag that looked like a terrorist pulled out in front of me.  I hit some ice and damn near showed him what a Ford Escape Jihad looks like, which would’ve been just fine by me (I might as well use that insurance I pay for, right?), but if the recruit following me would’ve smashed her car into mine, people might have gotten angry.

You know, just writing that sort of gets me worked up again.  I tried to watch my language all weekend, but when that dude pulled out in front of me, I let loose with a string of creative language that thankfully just made the science ladies laugh.  Screw it.  I’m pissed.  We ate, we drank, we conquered.  The end, go!

What's in a Name? pt 5

Round 5

Original Cindy – I had the pleasure of working for Cindy Clarke in Institutional Research my senior year.  I believe Matt came up with the nickname.  It stuck.  I really have no funny stories about her, at least none that I remember.

The Couch – The identity of this young lady shall remain unknown to you casual readers.  Let it be known that she was a very, very large girl.  How did she receive this name you ask?  Simple.  She bent Whitford’s futon!!!  That’s right, she sat on it and bent the metal bar along the front.

The Frumpkin – How could we have left this one off of the list for so long???  This is the nickname by which Shannon Brown is known.  It’s really quite fitting if you think about it.  Nobody else in the world embodies the name Frumpkin as does Shannon. Bob, Shannon and myself had went somewhere and were looking for a parking spot beside the tennis courts.  I was driving, Krause was in the passenger seat and Shannon was in the back.  I was having some trouble finding a spot and Shannon made some comment concerning this when I blurted out, “Shut up you frumpkin head.”  Krause nearly pissed himself right there on the front seat.  The name stuck.

Beardo – John Terrissi.  He was a hippie.  He wore a beard.  One time Beardo and I ate all of Matt Bochman’s chocolate chip cookies.

Tig Ol’ Ballywacker – Yet another large female, although not so much fat as she was tall.  This girl would be able to post up on Shaq with great success.  I swear she had size 18 feet.  They were simply huge.  Matt and I joked about her having a penis.  Seriously though, we really do think that she had a penis.  And it was big!

Flock of Seagulls – An incredibly nice, but incredibly dense brunette that graduated with us.  She entered our senior year with a hairdo that warranted the nickname.  A memorable story was one in which she went to State College and hooked up with a large black male.  As the story goes, she is quoted as saying, “He rubbed his penis all over me.”

T.J. – Timmy Junior.  She played women’s rugby for a little while and that’s where we first saw/met her.  This girl was all of 5 feet tall and 4 feet wide.  She was like a female version of our fat bastard friend Timmy.  It would have been sweet if they would have hooked up.  A couple years later, someone did hook up with her…

The Old Man – He was the owner of Rte. 22 Beverage for the several months of its existence.  He was a pretty cool guy.  He berated his wife who worked the cash register and generally loved us.  One of the best moments was when they were going out of business and were giving away all of the posters and signs that adorned the walls of the store.  In particular, we were interested in a large Yuengling Light poster.  The old woman says, “I think someone had already signed the back of that one.  Yep, Gunner Franks.” (Signing the back of the sign = dibs)  To this the old man responded, “Fuck Gunner Franks!”  And that, my friends, is why it pays to be a big drinker.  The old man appreciated our steady business and rewarded us with the sign.

What's in a name, part 4

The incestuous twins­ – The incestuous twins were a couple that looked like they were brother and sister…but that’s not even quite right. Perhaps incest isn’t the right word because they really looked like male and female versions of the same person. The girl was shorter with lighter hair, but they had they exact same face. Chances are, it was a cloning experiment gone horribly wrong.

The hamburger twins­ ­– Oh man, this was a set of crazies. They stuck to one another like glue (or like hamburger buns sticking together). The male twin would steer the female twin around the cafeteria. Like, literally walk behind her and guide her by the elbows. They also got all of their food together, whether they both wanted stuff in a particular food line or not. I think Amy Skibble named them.

Tonto­­ – This is yet another person that Jared and I lived across the hall from (Are you catching onto the pattern of people living near us receiving nicknames yet?). Krause may be the one to credit for this nickname, and I guess it’s because Kodie Hockenberry reminded the Krauser of an Indian. Tonto’s “famous” for gutting a deer outside of North and butchering it in the kitchen. He also hung a wild turkey from the ceiling of his dorm room and plucked it there. Sounds like an Injun to me.

Toto – Kevin Flagg was my freshman roommate. He was from Kansas, and because everyone at Juniata is really creative, they gave him the unique nickname of Toto. Several variations of the name would pop up from time to time, including Totes and Scroto. As a pro-wrestling fan, I imagined that Toto was a badass wrestler with a finishing maneuver called “The Blizzard of Oz.” For anyone wondering, it was a tornado DDT from the top rope.

Sock full of nickels – Oh sweet Jesus. Sock full of nickels girl was a volleyball player. She was an ugly volleyball player. It looked like she took a shotgun blast to the face, had her head lit on fire, and had the flames beaten out with a sock full of nickels. That’s all I have to say about that.

Leslie Poopanero – To be honest, I don’t really know a lot about this girl, but I do know that she always looked bitchy. Well, one fine April day at Pig Roast, she got blind drunk and stumbled into the woods to pee. She drops her pants and squats to relieve herself, and in the process, also unknowingly shits. At some point during the procedure, her feet slip, and she lands squaw in her own feces. Thinking it’s mud, she wipes her shit-covered hands off on her shirt and pants and stumbles back to the crowd stating that, “it smells like honey.” Understandably, her friends refuse to take her home, and she has to ride the drunk bus back to Juniata covered in excrement.

Crooked Jim – Crooked is a hell of a guy…he just has a candy cane-shaped penis. Well, at least that’s what one would assume when first hearing Jim’s nickname. I think it all came about when his freshman roommate Aaron Amick thought he was lying about something and called him crooked in that context. Either way, Crooked Jim looks a little like Les Stroud (aka Survivorman) but not nearly as Canadian. Legend has it that he also has old leathery balls full of sawdust. If he ever gave you the Arabian sunglasses, your eyeballs would immediately be desiccated by osmosis into his old, old balls.

Floor whores – Did you ever wish that you had an STD? Several STDs? Some completely new and uncharacterized versions of crotch rot? Well, pay these “ladies” a visit. Of course, if you lived in North a few years back, you didn’t have to go anywhere; they would come to you. The Floor Whores were a roving duo of ladies that were looking for some action. If there was a sighting on North lawn or on a different floor, a verbal alarm was sounded, and our doors were locked tight. If you had any type of standards, which surprisingly Jared and I do, you didn’t want anything to do with them.

Dr. Johnny Blacktop – This is what Jared and I called Dr. John Matter. See, my friend Vinny T.’s dad own a concrete/paving business, and Vince used to refer to himself as Dr. Johnny Blacktop (or Blacktop M.D.) in high school. I think it was his porn name. Anyway, I co-opted it for Matter, and it stuck with the Yeti and me.

G.O.D. – Good Old Duane Stroman was the man in the Sociology Department. He’s approximately older than the universe and still a badass. Jared and I used to take his classes, where we’d sit in the back passing notes and giggling. This was tolerated by G.O.D. because Jared’s a sociology genius, I could hold my own in class discussions and on tests, and we all liked Yuengling. Stro would tell dirty jokes during class and give us a little smile. He also used those old school dittos. Remember that shit from elementary school? They were in that purple/blue ink, and you had to wonder if they came from a Gutenberg printing press. Oh, and he has a hot young wife. He’s not Jared’s idol for nothing.