#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:

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!

This needs posted...

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!

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.

#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!

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.