Believe It or Not

You’ve seen squirrels, groundhogs, and rabbits; ….last night, I chanced upon a wolpertinger darting through the trees. It was only for an moment but I swear to it. “Couldn’t be” I muttered to myself, “This far from Bavaria?” I didn’t believe it at first but it couldn’t be denied. It was all there, the horns of a roebuck, the wings of a jay and the feet of a duck. I stood back jaw agape astonished by the wolpertinger’s majesty. Sadly, before I could a girl to expose her breasts and lure it in, it wisped away, appearing to take flight into the night. In an instant the beast was gone, I can only assume it was up to something awesome.

white chocolate

p.s. It may have been a rabbit.

The Truth

What is it with all these shady-ass girls trying to dance with me at the Mug? When I’m there with my boys on the dance floor all I’m looking for is a good time, a random hook-up is the last thing on my mind. Its insane! We’re down there for less than five minutes and we’re already surrounded. Like hungry kittens, timid at first, but once they see what they want they close in and attack; I turn and they're pawing at my ankles. Why are girls always so horny? All they want is sex. We break free but they pursue. As quickly as we move to the extremes of the floor we’re re-encircled. They’re everywhere; if they’re not on the dance floor then there standing on the sides giving me the eye. How can I be expected to have a good time if I know I’m being ogled? All I want to do is dance with my boys, just let me have my fun. When I go down there, all I’m looking for is fun, not sex. Eww! Girls, Leave us guys alone. When we’re at the mug, we’re not there to dance with you. All we want is guy time, so keep your distance and let us have our fun.

white chocolate

p.s. When I leave the Mug I leave alone, my bed is the only thing I want to be inside of.

My Prospie

**WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS MORE THAN 400 WORDS.**

Bummer,
I’m on probation until at least the end of the year. Security says that I’ve accumulated more noise complaints (along with a couple of alcohol violations) than the rest of the campus combined. Its not that I’m unruly; my living habits are far from disruptive. It’s just that the local house fellows are far less tolerant than one would expect of professors at a liberal arts college.

I signed up to be a host of one of the focus students this weekend. I registered early, arrived promptly and assumed all would go smoothly. After all, I’m a decent student, fairly relaxed and also pretty outgoing; I’d make a good host; I am a great, positive, glowing person. After the sign in and the pizza dinner with hosts and focus kids, the pairing process began. The hosts’ names would be called, in alphabetical order, and they would proceed out the door with their new soon to be friend. It was exciting; a chance to share with another all that I had learned in the past year; a chance for someone to adore me; a drinking buddy at the very least. Adams, Bryant, Clifton, my heart began to pound. Houston, I grit my teeth and clenched my hands. Martin, my eyes rolled back, my subconscious screaming with desire. Peters… my heart dropped.

“There must be some mistake,” I thought. “Maybe my prospie isn’t here yet. Perhaps they’re just saving the best for last.” The pairings finished. I remained entirely alone with 4 other unpaired hosts (a hobo, a junkie, a dwarf and a giraffe) a few stragglers, and the staff of the event. The smoke cleared. With a flushed face and a soul hungry for fiery vengeance, I raced up to the administrative table slammed both fists on the table, and screamed “Liars, filthy blood-sucking vagrants. Where is my friend?” Four overseers smirked down at me. The first three cackled out bellows of laughs. The forth leaned forward and spat.

… I was waitlisted… I was belittled, embarrassed, humiliated. Tears ran down my cheek. I fainted, awoken several hours later in the center of the quad by frolicking of a caliber of which I have never seen before; host and child rejoicing as one. Harmony wisped in the air. The dog was a happy mask. But I, your intrepid protagonist, sat lonely in the corner, taken aback by sadness I wandered in the shadows. The dog barked longingly and no one responded.

It occurred to me the next day that the man had probably screwed me over. I was placed on the waiting list because of my probation. It has to be. Black listed, stricken from community service at my very college. I could have handled ‘400 BABIES!’ but they wouldn’t even give me one. The kibble bowl was empty.

With love,
Barky (aka white chocolate)
Happy 4/20

My Opinion, For What It's Worth

Greetings Readers,

Guess what Tuesday was. The 35th anniversary of Picasso’s death? Right, but it also happened to be my birthday. Exactly 19 years since the day I was born. Drink up and toast to life.

One of the questions I’ve heard most often, as with every birthday, is “how does it feel”. Typically, I reply “not much different.” After all, I’m not a years older than I was yesterday, just a day, a few hours. Its not as if I’ve crossed some invisible barrier into 19-hood. The year is man’s invention. Nevertheless, it got me to thinking. Here I am, another year older, and what have I accomplished. Sure, I’m in college, but what about my other aspirations. I’ve yet to go platinum. No screenplay that I’ve written has been picked up. I’m still pretty far from walking on the moon… bummer.

We have the tendency to gauge our life experience in terms of years. With each birthday, we reflect, asking “what have I accomplished in the last year?” or “how much deeper am I now than I was then?” But what is a year but a catalogue of moments. Rather than judging progress long term, why not live life in the moment. Take the risk. Pursue that ‘unrequited’ lover. Live and love each moment because each instant lost is a lifetime of missed experience.

white chocolate

Music Lovers Unite!

Like many students at Vassar, I have a love of music. Whether I’m doing homework, groovin’ down or just relaxing, It’s always been a close friend. Until recently a bulk of my library came from Limewire or other p2p networks (yeah, it’s against school policy but the administration didn’t seem to care and plus my computers not registered anyway.) Sadly this is no longer an option. Sure there’s still a bunch of bit torrent hosts and the occasional ‘free’ website but these are entirely unreliable and often more of a hassle than they prove to be worth. What are we to do?

Recently a friend at Princeton turned me onto Ruckus, a legal music sharing network reserved exclusively for college students. As of now, the site boasts over 100 colleges and universities across the country and over 3 million downloadable tracks submitted by the artists themselves, all completely legally. See for yourself (http://www.ruckus.com/ruckus/home.do). No longer will we musicphiles hide shadows, suffering oppression at the pen of the man. Let’s step into the light. It’s fast, easy and lawful. We need to get Vassar in on this. Any Suggestions?

white chocolate