Note: This column was written during my sophomore year at the University of Wisconsin-Superior, and published in the Promethean.
On November 12, 1998 there was a contest. Two men who will remain anonymous (Tom Heuer and Chad Gustafson) had a wager on who could drink the most Sunny Delight. For those who don’t know, Sunny Delight is a lightly textured beverage that has vitamins A, B1, and C, and tends to make me “go” a lot. Well, as stupid as this is already, it gets worse. They decided that their abilities were about even, and they both should suffer the consequences. Basically, this involved running up and down the hallways of the Crownhart building in their boxer shorts, doing cartwheels. This is my top story. This is the only news I have. If someone doesn’t send me a story soon, I’ll have to replace this column with crude, childish drawings that will surely offend everyone. It’s okay though, because printing this story only proves even more that all the crap goes on the back page.
Here’s some interesting news. the cultural dinner was a big success, but apparently one of the university’s head honchos didn’t appreciate the belly dancing. I’m ashamed that one of the members of this university would be so rude towards our cultural dinner. I mean, sure, I was eating at McDonald’s at the time the cultural dinner was going on, but at least I’m not rude (Actually, I was out of town that night). Belly dancing is a part of many countries’ cultures, just like booze, raunchy movies, and swearing loudly in public places are a major part of ours. It would be like if other countries got upset at me if i came to their cultural dinners stinking drunk, cussing loudly, and dressed like Roseanne Arnold. Oops, I think I just ruined my point. In fact, I’m not qualified at all to write about this, so I’m going to stop.
In other news, Ted Danson has a new T.V. show. I’d make a joke, but I figure the statement itself is funny enough. Though if I did make a joke, I’m pretty sure it would involve “Gulliver’s Travels” or the fact that everyone in the movie theater laughed during his part in “Saving Private Ryan.” I tell you, nothing breaks up a serious moment in a movie like Ted Danson’s acting.
Has anyone seen Serena Altschul, the “MTV News” anchor, on T.V. lately? Nice freakin’ haircut. She looks like a goon.
Because I have nothing else to fill this column with, here’s some useless facts:
*Wearing glasses will make you look more intelligent and handsome– unless you’re ugly.
*Putting bigger T.V.’s in the classrooms don’t make the crappy educational movies any better.
*My aunt smells like cats
*Students who keep me from typing up papers by logging on to chat lines for four hours deserve to be shot.
*Sprite commercials teach us to think for ourselves and drink what tastes good, and that’s why most people drink something else.
*Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger graduated from UWS, and no, no one cares.
There needs to be an event that will bring this campus together, to make us all strive for a common goal. Since no one else has stepped up, I will introduce my new campaign, which I like to call “Let’s Get the Chancellor to Wear a Cowboy Hat.” This campaign has no real point, but then again, neither does anything else in this article. I encourage everyone to send mail to the chancellor, telling him that Paul Ryan is fronting a campaign, and would he please put on a cowboy hat and say, “I like Bonanza.” If we are successful, and the chancellor wears a cowboy hat around campus for a full day, I will personally vacuum the dorm room of every resident living on this campus. This is a real campaign, not a joke. There are three things I don’t joke about in this world. Number one is the men’s hockey team, because they’d kick the crap out of me. Number two is the women’s hockey team, because….well, because they’d kick the crap out of me (though I’d probably enjoy it). Number three is authority figures in funny hats. So send the chancellor an e-mail or a written letter, asking him to participate. Heck, send the guy three or four requests, nobody will know the difference.