Just gonna put some songs up when I find them that make me think of the awesomeness I'm about to leave behind...
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
#17: T.G.F.J.B. - Thank God For Joe Bauserman
Since Nebraska had been admitted to the Big10, one football game among all other stood out on the schedule and became THE game of the 2011 football season before it even began. 10-8-11, THE Ohio State was coming to Lincoln.
Tickets for this game were far from cheap, but with Nebraska losing to Wisconsin the week before, Luke Vidal and I were able to secure a pair for a reasonable fee. With the day off of work, why not make it to the stadium to see the first Big10 home game for my beloved Huskers?
Chris Rhodes and his friends joined Luke and I for College Gameday and breakfast burritos at 9am, and naturally, we started drinking. Of note, those were, by far, the best breakfast burritos I have ever had the pleasure of assisting in making in my entire life. Solid job everyone...
With a 7:00PM kickoff on the horizon we were a little ahead of our schedule of intoxication with not a single one of us able to drive downtown at noon. Naturally we called a cab, and naturally, Lincoln only has one cab company. TWO HOURS after calling for the cab our chariot had arrived. After a $25.00 ride to "The Rez" we were ready to really kick it into high gear.
What happened next is a little fuzzy. I do recall needing to use a restroom, bad. The line for the porta-potty was at least 30 minutes, and the breakfast burritos weren't going to wait. We started walking and I found kids selling parking spots. I offered $5 to use their restroom to which their father politely declined and offered the facilities at no charge. I gave him a few of our beers and we returned to the Rez.
At this point we conducted the UV Blue challenge. My hypothosis: That UV Blue is like Cat-Nip for women, they can not, and will not, turn it down. My thought turned out to be correct, as every single girl I offered a pull out of the bottle to stopped and took a drink. They didn't know me, didn't know what was in the bottle, or know how creepy Vidal was watching them behind me.
Before we knew it, it was time to stumble to the game. If you have never tailgated at The Rez you should know that when you start walking towards the stadium you are quickly engulfed in a river of red people, and there is no stopping or getting out of this line until you get to the stadium. Just my luck as we step foot into the crowd, all that booze I took in wanted to come right out. Now, with no stopping, and no losing my friend, the proper thing to do here is what we later coined "Puke Walking." Simply put, I just turned my head to the side and threw up while walking. Disgusting, right? Well, nobody said a word. That's winning.
We get to the game, cheer through what looked to be an embarrassing loss, in fact, for the first time in my life, I thought about leaving early. At the last second I talked myself out of it and came back into the game to see Mr. David ripping the ball out of Mr. Miller's hands. The rest is history, literally. The biggest comeback in Nebraska football history. Needless to say, that place was crazy, and I will never forget the energy and emotions we all had in the stands that night.
The group of us made it downtown for a good five minutes before we realized we were in no shape to get into any bars, especially waiting 30 minutes to get in. We naturally used our best judgement and paid a stranger to bring us home. Luke and I proceeded to drink more beer and order $50 worth of Ramos Pizza at 3am... and yes, we ate it.
Thanks Nebraska, and thanks especially to you, Mr. Joe Bauserman.
Tickets for this game were far from cheap, but with Nebraska losing to Wisconsin the week before, Luke Vidal and I were able to secure a pair for a reasonable fee. With the day off of work, why not make it to the stadium to see the first Big10 home game for my beloved Huskers?
Chris Rhodes and his friends joined Luke and I for College Gameday and breakfast burritos at 9am, and naturally, we started drinking. Of note, those were, by far, the best breakfast burritos I have ever had the pleasure of assisting in making in my entire life. Solid job everyone...
With a 7:00PM kickoff on the horizon we were a little ahead of our schedule of intoxication with not a single one of us able to drive downtown at noon. Naturally we called a cab, and naturally, Lincoln only has one cab company. TWO HOURS after calling for the cab our chariot had arrived. After a $25.00 ride to "The Rez" we were ready to really kick it into high gear.
What happened next is a little fuzzy. I do recall needing to use a restroom, bad. The line for the porta-potty was at least 30 minutes, and the breakfast burritos weren't going to wait. We started walking and I found kids selling parking spots. I offered $5 to use their restroom to which their father politely declined and offered the facilities at no charge. I gave him a few of our beers and we returned to the Rez.
At this point we conducted the UV Blue challenge. My hypothosis: That UV Blue is like Cat-Nip for women, they can not, and will not, turn it down. My thought turned out to be correct, as every single girl I offered a pull out of the bottle to stopped and took a drink. They didn't know me, didn't know what was in the bottle, or know how creepy Vidal was watching them behind me.
Before we knew it, it was time to stumble to the game. If you have never tailgated at The Rez you should know that when you start walking towards the stadium you are quickly engulfed in a river of red people, and there is no stopping or getting out of this line until you get to the stadium. Just my luck as we step foot into the crowd, all that booze I took in wanted to come right out. Now, with no stopping, and no losing my friend, the proper thing to do here is what we later coined "Puke Walking." Simply put, I just turned my head to the side and threw up while walking. Disgusting, right? Well, nobody said a word. That's winning.
We get to the game, cheer through what looked to be an embarrassing loss, in fact, for the first time in my life, I thought about leaving early. At the last second I talked myself out of it and came back into the game to see Mr. David ripping the ball out of Mr. Miller's hands. The rest is history, literally. The biggest comeback in Nebraska football history. Needless to say, that place was crazy, and I will never forget the energy and emotions we all had in the stands that night.
The group of us made it downtown for a good five minutes before we realized we were in no shape to get into any bars, especially waiting 30 minutes to get in. We naturally used our best judgement and paid a stranger to bring us home. Luke and I proceeded to drink more beer and order $50 worth of Ramos Pizza at 3am... and yes, we ate it.
Thanks Nebraska, and thanks especially to you, Mr. Joe Bauserman.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
#18: If you ain't got no money take your broke ass home!
I wan't to start this off by saying one thing. "First Annual" is a real saying. I doubt the few people who made a big deal out of that when it happened actually read this, but we used that saying, and I have no regrets about it.
It was, in fact, the FIRST ANNUAL Theta Xi Egg Dash. I had, with the help of my boys, organized a pretty awesome philanthropy to raise money to fight M.S. I was, naturally, proud of all of us. I had organized the collection of a solid number of prizes for the event, one of which was a limo ride for the finder of that particular plastic egg and 13 of their friends.
So much to my joy, my friend Kim Phan found that lovely egg. Kim assured us that she would take her boys with her in her limo ride, and a week later we were loading that bad boy up with more bottles of Carlo Rossi than you could shake a stick at. It was, in fact, GO TIME.
I'm not going to hold any punches here. We tore that bad boy up. We tore it up so much that we had to buy more time just to keep living the dream. The problem was, Carlo Rossi was still with us, and as I have come to learn he is a bad, bad man. I'm 90% sure that Carlo Rossi and Sailor Jerry fund Al-Qaeda.
Anyway, the limo dropped us off, and for some reason I found it necessary to call my whore friend Kate Webster to get tips on how to be such a HUGE whore. I go to the back lot of Theta Xi where I proceed to call Kate. In the middle of our conversation I lose my footing, go to grab the wall of Theta Xi, but instead find a glass window pane. My arm goes right through. I pull it out and much to my dismay I see the tendon in my wrist. Shit.
Not knowing what to do, and bleeding profusely, I start walking in circles. I see someone coming and I go up and ask them what I should do. Lo and behold if it isn't Sam Keller himself walking through the alley at that moment. Yes, Sam Keller:
While Sam is telling me it's time to go to a hospital, Adam Bahr finds me. Instead of telling Adam about the massive gash in my wrist and flowing blood, I introduce him to Sam Keller. GO HUSKERS!
Adam gets me inside where Theta Xi's resident M.D. Aaron Peth sees the wound and lets out a loud "WHOA". Next thing I know we are hauling ass in Kyle Courter's car to the E.R.
The real fun starts now. I have this thing about needles. I don't like them. And when I got in there I knew right where that needle was going. INSIDE MY CUT THAT WAS ALL THE WAY DOWN TO MY TENDON. I'll admit it, I caused a scene. To my credit though, a mother and her small child came into the E.R. and I told the doctor to let me bleed while he went and took care of the child. I may have had reasons of doing that, but at least I looked good at the time.
It finally came time to shit or get off the pot. I had Ben Gilmore, Kyle Courter, and Aaron Peth holding me down, yet I still fought that needle in my wrist. Finally an old man came in with a badge and told me to be quiet. I told Peth that "That old security guard better shut his mouth!". Well, turns out that old security guard was a cop who kindly informed me that if I didn't shut the hell up I would be going to jail as soon as the stitches were in.
I may have instantly became the calmest patient in the history of the emergency room at that very moment.
Turns out it wasn't so bad. I have a sweet scar now that looks like I tried to off myself, and we get this, my 18th "best" memory of my college career.
It was, in fact, the FIRST ANNUAL Theta Xi Egg Dash. I had, with the help of my boys, organized a pretty awesome philanthropy to raise money to fight M.S. I was, naturally, proud of all of us. I had organized the collection of a solid number of prizes for the event, one of which was a limo ride for the finder of that particular plastic egg and 13 of their friends.
So much to my joy, my friend Kim Phan found that lovely egg. Kim assured us that she would take her boys with her in her limo ride, and a week later we were loading that bad boy up with more bottles of Carlo Rossi than you could shake a stick at. It was, in fact, GO TIME.
I'm not going to hold any punches here. We tore that bad boy up. We tore it up so much that we had to buy more time just to keep living the dream. The problem was, Carlo Rossi was still with us, and as I have come to learn he is a bad, bad man. I'm 90% sure that Carlo Rossi and Sailor Jerry fund Al-Qaeda.
Anyway, the limo dropped us off, and for some reason I found it necessary to call my whore friend Kate Webster to get tips on how to be such a HUGE whore. I go to the back lot of Theta Xi where I proceed to call Kate. In the middle of our conversation I lose my footing, go to grab the wall of Theta Xi, but instead find a glass window pane. My arm goes right through. I pull it out and much to my dismay I see the tendon in my wrist. Shit.
Not knowing what to do, and bleeding profusely, I start walking in circles. I see someone coming and I go up and ask them what I should do. Lo and behold if it isn't Sam Keller himself walking through the alley at that moment. Yes, Sam Keller:
While Sam is telling me it's time to go to a hospital, Adam Bahr finds me. Instead of telling Adam about the massive gash in my wrist and flowing blood, I introduce him to Sam Keller. GO HUSKERS!
Adam gets me inside where Theta Xi's resident M.D. Aaron Peth sees the wound and lets out a loud "WHOA". Next thing I know we are hauling ass in Kyle Courter's car to the E.R.
The real fun starts now. I have this thing about needles. I don't like them. And when I got in there I knew right where that needle was going. INSIDE MY CUT THAT WAS ALL THE WAY DOWN TO MY TENDON. I'll admit it, I caused a scene. To my credit though, a mother and her small child came into the E.R. and I told the doctor to let me bleed while he went and took care of the child. I may have had reasons of doing that, but at least I looked good at the time.
It finally came time to shit or get off the pot. I had Ben Gilmore, Kyle Courter, and Aaron Peth holding me down, yet I still fought that needle in my wrist. Finally an old man came in with a badge and told me to be quiet. I told Peth that "That old security guard better shut his mouth!". Well, turns out that old security guard was a cop who kindly informed me that if I didn't shut the hell up I would be going to jail as soon as the stitches were in.
I may have instantly became the calmest patient in the history of the emergency room at that very moment.
Turns out it wasn't so bad. I have a sweet scar now that looks like I tried to off myself, and we get this, my 18th "best" memory of my college career.
#19: THIS SHIT IS BANANAS- B-A-N-A-N-A-S
This isn't the longest entry I will post, nor is it the funniest (if you weren't there), but it IS a prank that stands out as one of my favorites.
For those that know the layout of the UNL campus, especially when it comes to Greek houses, my bedroom at Theta Xi my sophomore year was about 15 feet from Beta's basketball court. Now, I was O.K. with the occasional 3:30AM drunken basketball games they would have, because I was usually involved in my own, uh, extracurricular activities at the time. And as my Theta Xi neighbors could tell you, I could probably be a little louder than that damn basketball off the backboard could ever be. (Looking at you Mike Palmer and Josh Howell)
What I wasn't cool with was the way these "manly men" hazed their freshman by locking them outside on the basketball court, at 6:00am, on a Tuesday, to sing songs... in order to be let back inside. What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing.
It didn't take me long to realize that this wasn't just a one week deal. They would usually do this for three weeks running. So finally I had the idea that it was time to fight fire with fire. I woke myself and three other guys up at 5:30 in the morning the next Tuesday. We casually made our way upstais to the third floor, took our VERY large speakers and placed them in the windows facing Beta, and we waited.
We waited some more... and more... and more. They weren't doing it this morning.
I'm not one to just let a plan go to waste. At five after six in the morning I gave one of our freshman the go ahead to start the music. What came out of those speakers, at maximum volume, was what I considered to be the worst song ever made until Ke$ha showed up:
It took about 37 seconds before the first window flew open at Beta with screams directed our way. I'm in the process of laughing so hard the thought of urinating myself becomes a serious concern. Soon, 10-15 members of Beta were outside throwing those same basketballs I challenged to noise contests up at the windows trying to knock the speakers out. No luck, bitch.
We let the song play through twice, and looking back on it, I don't feel bad about doing the prank, but I honestly feel a little bad about the song selection. I hope they all made it out ok.
Of note: I'm stupid busy with school, I'm obviously trying to get these done before graduation, so let's hope for the best. I did manage to get two stories from you guys! Don't be afraid to send them through Facebook and I'll be sure to share them, anonymously of course if requested.
Stay classy.
For those that know the layout of the UNL campus, especially when it comes to Greek houses, my bedroom at Theta Xi my sophomore year was about 15 feet from Beta's basketball court. Now, I was O.K. with the occasional 3:30AM drunken basketball games they would have, because I was usually involved in my own, uh, extracurricular activities at the time. And as my Theta Xi neighbors could tell you, I could probably be a little louder than that damn basketball off the backboard could ever be. (Looking at you Mike Palmer and Josh Howell)
What I wasn't cool with was the way these "manly men" hazed their freshman by locking them outside on the basketball court, at 6:00am, on a Tuesday, to sing songs... in order to be let back inside. What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing.
It didn't take me long to realize that this wasn't just a one week deal. They would usually do this for three weeks running. So finally I had the idea that it was time to fight fire with fire. I woke myself and three other guys up at 5:30 in the morning the next Tuesday. We casually made our way upstais to the third floor, took our VERY large speakers and placed them in the windows facing Beta, and we waited.
We waited some more... and more... and more. They weren't doing it this morning.
I'm not one to just let a plan go to waste. At five after six in the morning I gave one of our freshman the go ahead to start the music. What came out of those speakers, at maximum volume, was what I considered to be the worst song ever made until Ke$ha showed up:
It took about 37 seconds before the first window flew open at Beta with screams directed our way. I'm in the process of laughing so hard the thought of urinating myself becomes a serious concern. Soon, 10-15 members of Beta were outside throwing those same basketballs I challenged to noise contests up at the windows trying to knock the speakers out. No luck, bitch.
We let the song play through twice, and looking back on it, I don't feel bad about doing the prank, but I honestly feel a little bad about the song selection. I hope they all made it out ok.
Of note: I'm stupid busy with school, I'm obviously trying to get these done before graduation, so let's hope for the best. I did manage to get two stories from you guys! Don't be afraid to send them through Facebook and I'll be sure to share them, anonymously of course if requested.
Stay classy.
Friday, October 21, 2011
#20: It was... A Standard Van.
October 8th, 2009 was a day that my co-workers who I shared the joy of having Thursdays off and myself had been looking forward to for almost a year. Since ESPN had decided that Nebraska would take on the Missouri Tigers on that Thursday in prime time we had been planning. The tickets were bought, the hotel was reserved, and what we had thought was a pretty nice conversion van had been rented. It was go time.
We met outside Wal-Mart in Lincoln on a beautiful October morning. Adam Bahr, Kim Phan, and Dave Caspers joined me first, followed soon by Chris Baker, Seth Jantz, and Andy and Adam Harris. While we waited on our driver in our van we headed inside and stocked up on supplies. There was a decent chance for rain in Columbia so we made sure to grab some cheap ponchos while we were inside, and beer... lots and lots of beer.
As we waited outside our knight in shining armor, Chase Nelms, showed up in what wasn't quite the chariot we had been hoping for. The van had a few years on it, and even more miles. Oh, and the speakers didn't work. And there was no CD player.... and it stunk, bad.
Chase jumped out of the drivers seat, threw his aviators on and made the statement that would dominate the entire trip. "Boys, we got the standard van!" At that point we just kind of knew it was going to be alright.
We hit the road for Missouri around 7am, all of us had a closed beer in our hand as we reached the border to Missouri, and to celebrate the absence of any open container laws in the state, we cracked those cold ones the SECOND we crossed that imaginary line. Not only were we now free to start drinking a solid 10 hours to kick off, we also saw some ominous clouds. Immediately after we partook in the delicious drink of the gods, it started raining. And I'm not talking a little rain here... it...was...raining. Think Forest Gump Vietnam type rain here.
The standard wheels on the standard van held up and we made it to Columbia without a scratch, we checked into the hotel, and after a slight detour thanks to Adam's need to order a pizza (?) we made it down to tailgate. Lucky for us we were given a canopy to protect us from the elements! I opened the bag to start setting it up only to find we had every single piece... except the canopy. Seth and I left the others in the cold as we drove through traffic to Wal-Mart, snagged the last $125 canopy set they had and raced back. Once there we were able to set up and start drinking. Missouri fans became awfully friendly, especially these ones:
Maybe they were just trying to steal our booze, maybe not. But we did have plenty of pregame fun, but some meat on Seth's grill, and shared some solid ribbing with Tiger fans.
We made our way to the game, taking plenty of insults along the way. Once inside the realization that our tickets were G.A. and were going to cause us a hassle on the 45' angle hill we were supposed to sit on started to kick in. We managed to slide down the grass to sit on the big "M" on the hill. The rain, still pouring down, added to the already awesome atmosphere.
Sometime in the first quarter, one of our beloved Husker players happened to hurt himself. The absolute spitting image of white trash sitting next to Chase and I decided it would be a solid time to cheer things like "FUCK EM! HOPE HIS LEG IS BROKEN!" Chase and I nearly physically put him in his place, but we let him dig his own grave as his fans started to turn on him during our conversation.
The game looked ugly going into the fourth quarter, but we all know how Mr. Suh turned this one around. We quickly pulled our heads out and took a solid lead in the fourth quarter. I had never seen so many loud, obnoxious, cocky assholes become so quiet in my entire life. Chris Baker and I spent the last five minutes of the game running around like assholes screaming our heads off, dishing the words back at any Missouri fan unlucky enough to cross our path, and enjoying the victory with strangers in the G.A. section.
On our walk back to the standard van we failed to see any of those frat boys that threw all sorts of verbal garbage at us on the way in... strange. When we returned to the tailgate I tried to start a little scuffle, but when I turned around I noticed everyone was in the van ready to leave. I apologized and made my way out of there.
Nebraska may have won, but the rain took two cell phones and our grill. But it could never take away the awesome memories from that trip, although it sure did make the damn smell of that van worse. Thanks guys.
We met outside Wal-Mart in Lincoln on a beautiful October morning. Adam Bahr, Kim Phan, and Dave Caspers joined me first, followed soon by Chris Baker, Seth Jantz, and Andy and Adam Harris. While we waited on our driver in our van we headed inside and stocked up on supplies. There was a decent chance for rain in Columbia so we made sure to grab some cheap ponchos while we were inside, and beer... lots and lots of beer.
As we waited outside our knight in shining armor, Chase Nelms, showed up in what wasn't quite the chariot we had been hoping for. The van had a few years on it, and even more miles. Oh, and the speakers didn't work. And there was no CD player.... and it stunk, bad.
Chase jumped out of the drivers seat, threw his aviators on and made the statement that would dominate the entire trip. "Boys, we got the standard van!" At that point we just kind of knew it was going to be alright.
We hit the road for Missouri around 7am, all of us had a closed beer in our hand as we reached the border to Missouri, and to celebrate the absence of any open container laws in the state, we cracked those cold ones the SECOND we crossed that imaginary line. Not only were we now free to start drinking a solid 10 hours to kick off, we also saw some ominous clouds. Immediately after we partook in the delicious drink of the gods, it started raining. And I'm not talking a little rain here... it...was...raining. Think Forest Gump Vietnam type rain here.
The standard wheels on the standard van held up and we made it to Columbia without a scratch, we checked into the hotel, and after a slight detour thanks to Adam's need to order a pizza (?) we made it down to tailgate. Lucky for us we were given a canopy to protect us from the elements! I opened the bag to start setting it up only to find we had every single piece... except the canopy. Seth and I left the others in the cold as we drove through traffic to Wal-Mart, snagged the last $125 canopy set they had and raced back. Once there we were able to set up and start drinking. Missouri fans became awfully friendly, especially these ones:
We made our way to the game, taking plenty of insults along the way. Once inside the realization that our tickets were G.A. and were going to cause us a hassle on the 45' angle hill we were supposed to sit on started to kick in. We managed to slide down the grass to sit on the big "M" on the hill. The rain, still pouring down, added to the already awesome atmosphere.
The game looked ugly going into the fourth quarter, but we all know how Mr. Suh turned this one around. We quickly pulled our heads out and took a solid lead in the fourth quarter. I had never seen so many loud, obnoxious, cocky assholes become so quiet in my entire life. Chris Baker and I spent the last five minutes of the game running around like assholes screaming our heads off, dishing the words back at any Missouri fan unlucky enough to cross our path, and enjoying the victory with strangers in the G.A. section.
Nebraska may have won, but the rain took two cell phones and our grill. But it could never take away the awesome memories from that trip, although it sure did make the damn smell of that van worse. Thanks guys.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
#21: The Big12 (And It's Officials) Can Go To Hell
From the second Nebraska announced it's intentions to depart the Big12 and move to the Big10 we, as fans, knew that trouble would await us from the conference, likely in the form of officials taking some liberties in, to put it gently, fucking us in the ass.
To our surprise though the issue with biased officiating seemed to keep it's ugly head away from games involving our beloved Cornhuskers. That is, until we took our boys down to College Station, TX for a game with the Aggies of Texas A&M. Nebraska was good this year, real good. Strait up, no stripes involved, NU would beat A&M 90% of the time, no question in my mind.
But A&M did have the officials on their side, to the tune of 16-2 in the penalty department. The NU defense was playing good football against one of the better offenses in the Big12. On the game winning drive, on third and long, NU pressured the A&M quarterback to throw the ball out of bounds. NU would now get the ball to drive for a game winning possession. Or not. Watch the following if you have a strong stomach:
The penalty gave A&M a first down a subsequent game winning field goal.
Bullshit.
So, as the rabid fan I am, I decided to give the Big12 a nice backhanded complaint. I quickly went to Facebook and created the "Wear Red, Be Loud, Wave Yellow" campaign. We were to make penalty flags and wave them at the next game after every call against Nebraska as a form of appreciation to those in stripes. The group grew quickly and although a few haters tried to stop people from doing it saying it wasn't the "Nebraska Way" the overall consensus was that this was going to be great.
I made my way to the fabric store a few days before the game and got to work:
Unfortunately for us, the penalties that game weren't all that bad, but it still looked great, and even ESPN got into it with the post game report:
Still waiting on some more stories from you guys to share on here...
To our surprise though the issue with biased officiating seemed to keep it's ugly head away from games involving our beloved Cornhuskers. That is, until we took our boys down to College Station, TX for a game with the Aggies of Texas A&M. Nebraska was good this year, real good. Strait up, no stripes involved, NU would beat A&M 90% of the time, no question in my mind.
But A&M did have the officials on their side, to the tune of 16-2 in the penalty department. The NU defense was playing good football against one of the better offenses in the Big12. On the game winning drive, on third and long, NU pressured the A&M quarterback to throw the ball out of bounds. NU would now get the ball to drive for a game winning possession. Or not. Watch the following if you have a strong stomach:
The penalty gave A&M a first down a subsequent game winning field goal.
Bullshit.
So, as the rabid fan I am, I decided to give the Big12 a nice backhanded complaint. I quickly went to Facebook and created the "Wear Red, Be Loud, Wave Yellow" campaign. We were to make penalty flags and wave them at the next game after every call against Nebraska as a form of appreciation to those in stripes. The group grew quickly and although a few haters tried to stop people from doing it saying it wasn't the "Nebraska Way" the overall consensus was that this was going to be great.
I made my way to the fabric store a few days before the game and got to work:
The next day I made my way downtown, shocked at how many students I saw with their flags already. The pregame radio shows were talking up the idea, it was going to work damnit.
When I took my seat at the game I was greeted with more than a handful of students carrying garbage sacks full of flags and handing them out to those around them. Handshakes were shared and friends were made.
Lucky for us right after the game started Rex Burkhead was hit after calling a fair catch. The flags went crazy, they were EVERYWHERE. I felt like a new father, I was beaming.
The Nebraska student section played off Pelini's complaints about penalties in the A&M game, showing up with yellow flags that they waved en masse whenever it looked like a penalty was or wasn't warranted.It was fun, I made an impact, and most importantly, Nebraska won the game. Is this the most exciting story I have or will share? Not by any means, but it was fun as hell for me.
Still waiting on some more stories from you guys to share on here...
Thursday, September 22, 2011
#22: Where can a Tiger Fan get some meth at?
October 30th, 2010. The mighty Tigers of Missouri were making their way to town to take on our beloved Huskers a week after beating the #1 team in the country. More importantly, Brad Whitman was in town for some liver abuse.
Friday the 29th happened to be a fantastic night with Jay Novotny and Adam Harris joining us for a rousing game of chandeliers and fuzzy memories. But the real fun was going to come the next day. I'm not a rookie at trolling other fan bases, nor am I particularly good about not pissing off their fans. So with this game on Halloween there was only one thing to do, go hard on both of those issues.
The day had come, Husker nation was excited to take on the #6 Tigers, and I was ready for my greatest football troll in, well, a month or so.
Yep, that's the ticket. Cowboy boots, sweat pants that said "Volleyball" on the back, a faded tigers shirt, a cut off jean vest, hillbilly teeth, a mullet wig, terrible beard, and trashy old Tiger hat. IT WAS GO TIME.
Needless to say most people we saw downtown were loving this shit. Missouri fans were absolutely furious. This is one Tiger fans recap of his experience in Lincoln:
The fun continued to 'O' Street. I kept the gig up for quite some time until it put my personal safety at risk. After asking the wrong group of liquored up Tiger Fans if they knew where the meth was I was chased out of the bar by three large men. After words Mike Palmer and I learned that "PER CAPITA", Nebraska has more meth issues than Missouri. PER CAPITA MIKE!
Lucky for us another group of friendly Missouri fans broke up the fight so we invited them to after hours. Fun was had by all, and when Ben Gilmore got tired of waiting for the cab home he drove us at 4am. Another great success.
Sorry that one was a little bit shorter than usual. Still waiting for some more stories from you guys!
Friday the 29th happened to be a fantastic night with Jay Novotny and Adam Harris joining us for a rousing game of chandeliers and fuzzy memories. But the real fun was going to come the next day. I'm not a rookie at trolling other fan bases, nor am I particularly good about not pissing off their fans. So with this game on Halloween there was only one thing to do, go hard on both of those issues.
The day had come, Husker nation was excited to take on the #6 Tigers, and I was ready for my greatest football troll in, well, a month or so.
Yep, that's the ticket. Cowboy boots, sweat pants that said "Volleyball" on the back, a faded tigers shirt, a cut off jean vest, hillbilly teeth, a mullet wig, terrible beard, and trashy old Tiger hat. IT WAS GO TIME.
Needless to say most people we saw downtown were loving this shit. Missouri fans were absolutely furious. This is one Tiger fans recap of his experience in Lincoln:
This was my first ever trip to Lincoln and so help me God, it will be my last. My buddy and I got there at about 11 and tailgated for a while in the lot at 17th and P. I heard the random f*** Mizzou's; I was expecting that. What I didn't expect was when we were walking to the stadium, to be followed by some a**hole dressed in cut-off jean shorts, a sleeveless denim jacket, an obvious intentionally soiled MU hat, and torn up MU shirt, sporting a mullet, bubba teeth, and a raggedy beard. We were tailed to the stadium almost our entire walk by this moron, who asked us questions like (in an over-exaggerated hillbilly accent) "Hey brother, ya want ta go cook up some meth?" or "Want ta come to ma tailgate? Got some fried squirrel." Those are just a couple of examples. Once in the stadium, it took us about half an hour waiting to go through a tiny corridor to reach our section. Honestly, had I known where what seats we were waiting for, I might have turned around and went to a bar to watch the game. There is no way in hell I would have paid 75 bucks for those things. We were in the top row of the lower section, with half the cut from our view by the overhang from the upper deck and the area between the 40 yard lines blocked completely by a huge freaking pillar about 5 rows in front of us. Horrible, horrible experience.Yep, getting the job done. The game, as we all know, was fantastic.
The fun continued to 'O' Street. I kept the gig up for quite some time until it put my personal safety at risk. After asking the wrong group of liquored up Tiger Fans if they knew where the meth was I was chased out of the bar by three large men. After words Mike Palmer and I learned that "PER CAPITA", Nebraska has more meth issues than Missouri. PER CAPITA MIKE!
Lucky for us another group of friendly Missouri fans broke up the fight so we invited them to after hours. Fun was had by all, and when Ben Gilmore got tired of waiting for the cab home he drove us at 4am. Another great success.
Sorry that one was a little bit shorter than usual. Still waiting for some more stories from you guys!
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
UPDATE: #24 Pooh Bear's Big Night!
The long lost picture of that night, Ben trying to get into the room, has been found!
#23: 2 Fast, 2 Furious.
Sometimes things happen that just don't seem real, either while happening, or an unspecified time after the fact.
It was March 25th, 2011. The week before this incident I ruined a threesome, a week before that a squirrel (rabid I assume) broke into my apartment and wrecked havoc on my psyche, so I had been having a pretty solid string of great stories. I had told myself I was going to take it easy that night, kind of recoup myself and get back on level ground. This just also happened to be the night my good pal Katie Huckins was back in town, so that night of taking it easy would have to wait.
I met Katie and her friend Jeanette downtown for a few beers, and before I know it my liver's best friend Ben Gilmore is on his way down. The prospectus for this night turning wild was becoming very, very real. Unfortunately for us it wasn't going to be the wild, booze, clothes free, confetti, beach ball, and ponies type fun we were hoping for. As the night wore on it became apparent that we should just meet up with everyone at Jeanette's place for after hours instead of wasting our time at the bars which were awfully dead. The four of us stop by Jake's to grab a case and head to the car. Ben and I hop in the back seat, the girls up front. As we leave downtown we start heading down 15th street towards Jeanette's down near the capitol. As we are driving down the one way street we come to a stop. Next two us are two classy looking gentlemen in wife beaters and sideways Raider hats.
Now what do girls do when they drink? 1) Make bad decisions. 2) Sing. So Katie, in the passenger seat, starts singing a slow jam out the window towards these "bros". They, like the intelligent men they were, took this as fighting words. I told Katie not to do what she did, but she smashed the gas when the light turned green. White trash to my right tries to pass us, not realizing that their lane was ending. They hit the curb going pretty quickly and ramp up and into a sign. Katie hits the breaks. I laugh uncontrollably. They hear me. I am now white trash target numero uno. FML.
The next five to ten minutes was literally insane. We drove down neighborhood streets at 60mph, taking turns at 40, and we were literally rammed once or twice. Ben calls 911 as soon as possible, trying to give them our location. They were less than helpful. We pulled up next to a tow truck driver and screamed for him to get us help. This scared the guys enough that we lost them. Unfortunately, as good of a getaway driver Jeanette had been, she was still a woman, so she took three right turns and there we were again, being chased. We see the police station right in front of us so we pull up outside. Ben is still on the phone with 911. They once again ask our location. Ben fires back "RIGHT OUTSIDE THE POLICE STATION!! HAVE AN OFFICER WALK OUT THE FUCKING DOOR!!!" When we stop Jeanette lowers herself to ghetto level and gets out of the car. She's doing work to the passenger but the driver walks up to my side of the window asking what I said to him, I told him I laughed because he hit a sign, that most people thought that was funny. So, he punched me in the face. Jeanette saved the day and these guys took off. We somehow make it back to her place, case in tact (so was my face), and crack a few beers.
Ben and I eventually get a cab home, the driver saying that, with all honesty, we had the best story he had heard in his years on the job. Ben and I had nothing else to do at that point then cook food... the man literally blanched asparagus at 4:30 in the morning.
Just another day in the life I suppose.
Reminder!!! Send in your stories of you and I! If it happens to match up with a story I will post later I will just add your side of it in. Let's make this awesome. On top of that, if you have a great college story from UNL that doesn't even involve me still send it in. The blog has potential!
It was March 25th, 2011. The week before this incident I ruined a threesome, a week before that a squirrel (rabid I assume) broke into my apartment and wrecked havoc on my psyche, so I had been having a pretty solid string of great stories. I had told myself I was going to take it easy that night, kind of recoup myself and get back on level ground. This just also happened to be the night my good pal Katie Huckins was back in town, so that night of taking it easy would have to wait.
I met Katie and her friend Jeanette downtown for a few beers, and before I know it my liver's best friend Ben Gilmore is on his way down. The prospectus for this night turning wild was becoming very, very real. Unfortunately for us it wasn't going to be the wild, booze, clothes free, confetti, beach ball, and ponies type fun we were hoping for. As the night wore on it became apparent that we should just meet up with everyone at Jeanette's place for after hours instead of wasting our time at the bars which were awfully dead. The four of us stop by Jake's to grab a case and head to the car. Ben and I hop in the back seat, the girls up front. As we leave downtown we start heading down 15th street towards Jeanette's down near the capitol. As we are driving down the one way street we come to a stop. Next two us are two classy looking gentlemen in wife beaters and sideways Raider hats.
Now what do girls do when they drink? 1) Make bad decisions. 2) Sing. So Katie, in the passenger seat, starts singing a slow jam out the window towards these "bros". They, like the intelligent men they were, took this as fighting words. I told Katie not to do what she did, but she smashed the gas when the light turned green. White trash to my right tries to pass us, not realizing that their lane was ending. They hit the curb going pretty quickly and ramp up and into a sign. Katie hits the breaks. I laugh uncontrollably. They hear me. I am now white trash target numero uno. FML.
The next five to ten minutes was literally insane. We drove down neighborhood streets at 60mph, taking turns at 40, and we were literally rammed once or twice. Ben calls 911 as soon as possible, trying to give them our location. They were less than helpful. We pulled up next to a tow truck driver and screamed for him to get us help. This scared the guys enough that we lost them. Unfortunately, as good of a getaway driver Jeanette had been, she was still a woman, so she took three right turns and there we were again, being chased. We see the police station right in front of us so we pull up outside. Ben is still on the phone with 911. They once again ask our location. Ben fires back "RIGHT OUTSIDE THE POLICE STATION!! HAVE AN OFFICER WALK OUT THE FUCKING DOOR!!!" When we stop Jeanette lowers herself to ghetto level and gets out of the car. She's doing work to the passenger but the driver walks up to my side of the window asking what I said to him, I told him I laughed because he hit a sign, that most people thought that was funny. So, he punched me in the face. Jeanette saved the day and these guys took off. We somehow make it back to her place, case in tact (so was my face), and crack a few beers.
Ben and I eventually get a cab home, the driver saying that, with all honesty, we had the best story he had heard in his years on the job. Ben and I had nothing else to do at that point then cook food... the man literally blanched asparagus at 4:30 in the morning.
Just another day in the life I suppose.
Reminder!!! Send in your stories of you and I! If it happens to match up with a story I will post later I will just add your side of it in. Let's make this awesome. On top of that, if you have a great college story from UNL that doesn't even involve me still send it in. The blog has potential!
Friday, September 9, 2011
Advice for 9/9/11
I know I said I would not only share some great stories, but also give advice to current and future students.
Here's a piece of advice for any of you young men who are single and worried about it...
Truth.
Here's a piece of advice for any of you young men who are single and worried about it...
#24: Pooh Bear's Big Night
Before I get started on this fantastic tale, I want to thank Brad Olson for allowing me to post this story. I made sure to to ask him politely before I used his actual name here and like the good sport he is, he allowed it to happen. So don't fret friends, I will ask you before I use your name in any questionable stories.
Anyway... #24.
Being in a fraternity meant that we never had an issue of parties every weekend, specifically we never had an issue with theme parties taking place. It was the fall of 2006 I believe and the theme for the night was a good old fashioned "Stop Light" party. Simple enough rules: Single? Wear green. Happily with someone? Wear red. Filthy whore who lacks morals? Wear yellow. The party was with the ladies of Tri-Delt and was to take place at the Sloan twin's house and was sure to be a good time. So naturally I feel like shit and don't want to go. I wish the kids all the best of luck in their green shirt adventures and hit the hay for the night.
At around 12:30 the first drunken gentlemen start stumbling through the back door, near my bedroom, so I was able to hear their hilarious conversations about what had been happening. Eventually there is a lull in the amount of people coming home that was snapped with what became one hell of an amazing story. Suddenly someone comes in the back door with a girl and he's giving her "The tour".
Now let me take a break from the story here and explain what "The tour" is. When you're talking to a less than sober lady at a party she will naturally ask you where you live. You tell her what house you're in, she always says she's never been there, and you offer her a tour...at two in the morning. Well you don't have to be an Einstein to figure out where that tour always ended. It's like a classier version of asking a girl if she "wants to watch a movie" when you're both seven beers deep. Am I guilty of conducting a tour or nine in my day? Sure. But aren't we all a little?
Anyway, I hear a tour being given, but it's being given by Brad "Pooh Bear" Olson! Not to say Brad isn't a great guy, but at this time he might have been one of the worst guys I knew when it came to women, and was most certainly still "pure" at this point. So I was happy for the guy. Brad start's telling this girl about the hallway or something when she interrupts him and bluntly says "I've had the damn tour, let's just go to your room." Jackpot.
Now if you have ever been around my circle of friends you should already know who I instantly called to come home for this event. Ben Gilmore made it home about 45 seconds after I called him and told him. Turns out every other guy at the party left to make it back for the big event. Before I knew it we had about 10 guys out in the hallway trying to listen through the door what was happening. Which reminds me to tell you all that I heard things through that door that I have never managed to get out of my brain, but I digress. Well Ben Gilmore in all his drunken genius decided he's getting in that room somehow. Ben starts throwing his shoulder into the door, kicking, pushing, and carding to no avail. Brad had managed to slide his desk in front of the door.
Defeated in our goal to share in Brad's big night we retreat to the kitchen for some much needed hydration. While we are standing there we realize that we can see directly into Brad's room. Brad left his TV on during this to muffle out the moans, groans, and other terrifying sounds he was making. But what Brad didn't realize is that by leaving his TV on he was casting the most amazing shadows on the blinds, and we could see everything.
So even though we didn't get inside the room, we had a little peep show. Eventually we stopped and Pooh became a man. The next day we convinced him that the girl had told her sorority sisters that she had drank too much and Brad had raped her. The look on his face was something like this:
Congrats on becoming a man, letting all of us share in your moment, and most importantly, making the list at #24.
Have a fun and safe weekend everyone!
Anyway... #24.
Being in a fraternity meant that we never had an issue of parties every weekend, specifically we never had an issue with theme parties taking place. It was the fall of 2006 I believe and the theme for the night was a good old fashioned "Stop Light" party. Simple enough rules: Single? Wear green. Happily with someone? Wear red. Filthy whore who lacks morals? Wear yellow. The party was with the ladies of Tri-Delt and was to take place at the Sloan twin's house and was sure to be a good time. So naturally I feel like shit and don't want to go. I wish the kids all the best of luck in their green shirt adventures and hit the hay for the night.
At around 12:30 the first drunken gentlemen start stumbling through the back door, near my bedroom, so I was able to hear their hilarious conversations about what had been happening. Eventually there is a lull in the amount of people coming home that was snapped with what became one hell of an amazing story. Suddenly someone comes in the back door with a girl and he's giving her "The tour".
Now let me take a break from the story here and explain what "The tour" is. When you're talking to a less than sober lady at a party she will naturally ask you where you live. You tell her what house you're in, she always says she's never been there, and you offer her a tour...at two in the morning. Well you don't have to be an Einstein to figure out where that tour always ended. It's like a classier version of asking a girl if she "wants to watch a movie" when you're both seven beers deep. Am I guilty of conducting a tour or nine in my day? Sure. But aren't we all a little?
Anyway, I hear a tour being given, but it's being given by Brad "Pooh Bear" Olson! Not to say Brad isn't a great guy, but at this time he might have been one of the worst guys I knew when it came to women, and was most certainly still "pure" at this point. So I was happy for the guy. Brad start's telling this girl about the hallway or something when she interrupts him and bluntly says "I've had the damn tour, let's just go to your room." Jackpot.
Now if you have ever been around my circle of friends you should already know who I instantly called to come home for this event. Ben Gilmore made it home about 45 seconds after I called him and told him. Turns out every other guy at the party left to make it back for the big event. Before I knew it we had about 10 guys out in the hallway trying to listen through the door what was happening. Which reminds me to tell you all that I heard things through that door that I have never managed to get out of my brain, but I digress. Well Ben Gilmore in all his drunken genius decided he's getting in that room somehow. Ben starts throwing his shoulder into the door, kicking, pushing, and carding to no avail. Brad had managed to slide his desk in front of the door.
Defeated in our goal to share in Brad's big night we retreat to the kitchen for some much needed hydration. While we are standing there we realize that we can see directly into Brad's room. Brad left his TV on during this to muffle out the moans, groans, and other terrifying sounds he was making. But what Brad didn't realize is that by leaving his TV on he was casting the most amazing shadows on the blinds, and we could see everything.
So even though we didn't get inside the room, we had a little peep show. Eventually we stopped and Pooh became a man. The next day we convinced him that the girl had told her sorority sisters that she had drank too much and Brad had raped her. The look on his face was something like this:
Congrats on becoming a man, letting all of us share in your moment, and most importantly, making the list at #24.
Have a fun and safe weekend everyone!
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.
So here we are. As I type this I am 102 days from walking across the stage at the Devaney Center, the pinnacle of my education just so happens to be the finish line.
Before we get to the end, it's important that we start with the beginning. I will use this blog to not only countdown the 25 most memorable moments of my time at UNL, but also give advice to current students, let my friends share their favorite memories (with or without me, preferably the former), and most of all to bring my friends into all of this and let them know that they were there with me when I experienced the best that life has had to offer the past six years.
102 days to go. It's been seven years since the last time I was able to put on a cap and gown and feel pride like that. I was a little embarrassed to really get into the detail that was my time in school, but I guess that's what this is for. My first year out of high school I attended Iowa Western Community College. I had to go there for an entire year just so I could take ONE math class only offered in spring. I missed an entire semester at UNL because I was sick, and I missed another semester because I had to go through training for my current job. So that makes it a more respectable "five" years of higher education. The last three have been hell on earth, I have been working full time at the State Penitentiary for the tuition benefits while trying to stay sane in my extremely limited free time. I have had a total of four days with no work on school in the last 12 months.
Higher education, it turns out, never seemed to be an option for me. I cant, for the life of me, remember my parents (who I love to death and support me in everything I do) ever once telling me to prepare for college. It's not like the don't care, I know they both do more than words can describe, but in my upbringing it wasn't a priority, and in their time college wasn't exactly an unofficial requirement to a job as it is now. On top of that, I really didn't want to go to school. I started school as a way to pass the time until I turned 21 and could land my dream job of becoming a police officer.
It wasn't until my brother and I were searching for Husker tickets online and met some random stranger who was willing to sell us his tickets that I even began to think about school. And at this time, the idea of a University was out of the question both financially and grade wise for me. One night my brother found someone who had extra tickets. This stranger agreed to meet up with us, at his apartment in Lincoln, and exchange the money for the seats. My dad went with us and we met the kid, exchanged money for tickets, and went on our way. Shortly before the first game this kid emails me and says I'm welcome to stop by his apartment after the game to party. That guy was Adam Bahr, the first person who told me, face to face, I was good enough to not only get into school, but finish it. I instantly applied to UNL but was informed I lacked that one single math class that IWCC offered.
A year later I was sitting in the basement of my dad's house in Omaha and I will never forget the words I read on the piece of mail I received. "Dear John; Congratulations on being accepted to the University of Nebraska-Lincoln for the Fall 2005 Semester!" I had never felt so proud in my life, I made it. I was in. So to begin with the official countdown, MOMENT #25: Welcome To Nebraska. If I only knew what was going to come at me over the next few years at that time, I would of course do some things different, but I have no regrets. And with that, I hope you read enough to keep coming back, and if you did, I'm sure you're somewhere in this Top25, so get ready for your moment in the spotlight.
Before we get to the end, it's important that we start with the beginning. I will use this blog to not only countdown the 25 most memorable moments of my time at UNL, but also give advice to current students, let my friends share their favorite memories (with or without me, preferably the former), and most of all to bring my friends into all of this and let them know that they were there with me when I experienced the best that life has had to offer the past six years.
102 days to go. It's been seven years since the last time I was able to put on a cap and gown and feel pride like that. I was a little embarrassed to really get into the detail that was my time in school, but I guess that's what this is for. My first year out of high school I attended Iowa Western Community College. I had to go there for an entire year just so I could take ONE math class only offered in spring. I missed an entire semester at UNL because I was sick, and I missed another semester because I had to go through training for my current job. So that makes it a more respectable "five" years of higher education. The last three have been hell on earth, I have been working full time at the State Penitentiary for the tuition benefits while trying to stay sane in my extremely limited free time. I have had a total of four days with no work on school in the last 12 months.
Higher education, it turns out, never seemed to be an option for me. I cant, for the life of me, remember my parents (who I love to death and support me in everything I do) ever once telling me to prepare for college. It's not like the don't care, I know they both do more than words can describe, but in my upbringing it wasn't a priority, and in their time college wasn't exactly an unofficial requirement to a job as it is now. On top of that, I really didn't want to go to school. I started school as a way to pass the time until I turned 21 and could land my dream job of becoming a police officer.
It wasn't until my brother and I were searching for Husker tickets online and met some random stranger who was willing to sell us his tickets that I even began to think about school. And at this time, the idea of a University was out of the question both financially and grade wise for me. One night my brother found someone who had extra tickets. This stranger agreed to meet up with us, at his apartment in Lincoln, and exchange the money for the seats. My dad went with us and we met the kid, exchanged money for tickets, and went on our way. Shortly before the first game this kid emails me and says I'm welcome to stop by his apartment after the game to party. That guy was Adam Bahr, the first person who told me, face to face, I was good enough to not only get into school, but finish it. I instantly applied to UNL but was informed I lacked that one single math class that IWCC offered.
A year later I was sitting in the basement of my dad's house in Omaha and I will never forget the words I read on the piece of mail I received. "Dear John; Congratulations on being accepted to the University of Nebraska-Lincoln for the Fall 2005 Semester!" I had never felt so proud in my life, I made it. I was in. So to begin with the official countdown, MOMENT #25: Welcome To Nebraska. If I only knew what was going to come at me over the next few years at that time, I would of course do some things different, but I have no regrets. And with that, I hope you read enough to keep coming back, and if you did, I'm sure you're somewhere in this Top25, so get ready for your moment in the spotlight.
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