For example here is "TFP's Best of Some Blog I had Sophmore Year in College"
Towards the end of Italian class today another Italian teacher came into the class room and took an empty seat. He read a sentence on the board which, in English, said "Linda answered the telephone." He began to laugh and said in his Italian accent, "No one cares who Linda calls, this guy [pointing to a 'shaggy' student] only wants to know how to say, 'How much is a joint?'" He went on to make fun of my teacher about him being bald and short. My teacher responded with, "I had more hair and I was taller before I started teaching and before I was married". The other teacher then said, "The only dates you had before you were married were the ones you had to pay for." He then continued to tell the class that our teacher married his first cousin and is an inbreeder. Good times.
This was the 2nd of 4 semesters of Italian I had with Delli'Carpini, a short bald angry Italian who emigrated to the Bronx. That other Italian teacher came in again in another semester and really started ripping Carpini about the whole "married his 1st cousin" thing. I guess it was true.
We had an early family breakfast this morning at the IHOP of Poughkeepsie. Eating pancakes is more important than going to economics class. So as we were walking up to the glass doors of this pancake palace, we noticed a party of Poughkeepsie natives (of about our age) on the other side. They were all sporting their Tims, baggy jeans, and straight-brim baseball hats. There's no problem here except one is leaning with his back against the door. No one really wanted to open the door, fearing the consequences of this kid falling on his back. We didn't want to start any violent conflict with this kid and his friends. Violence has no place in IHOP. So Perry took the initiative to open the door. We all held our collective breath as Perry pulled the handle. The kid fell back a little, Perry said a quick sorry. There was no beef. I had the banana nut pancakes.
Ah the days when you could wake up and just not feel like going to class and so you wouldn't. You'd go to IHOP at 8am instead. I wish that was the case these days, because there are plenty more days that don't feel like going to work than there were days not feeling like going to class back in college.
At the {Hofstra lacrosse} game a kid with a hotdog walks by where we're sitting:
My dad: "Hey, you got my hotdog!"
Kid: "No I don't."
My dad: "Well, it looks like my hotdog."
This was also the game where Matthew asked my dad how he got mustard on his shoulder. Upon investigation my dad said, "Oh shit, bird poop."
The Mario 3 Ordeal
On Thursday night at about 12 AM after finishing off a few PBR's, Tristan and I decided that it was a proper time to beat the hell out of Mario 3. The last time I did this was back in the day with John Olivario, but that was with Game Genie. So anyway, if you know Mario 3 you know how to get to the 8th level in two blows of the whistle, but that freggin 8th level is damn hard. Crazy cannons shooting all over the place and shits. So Tristan as Mario and me as Luigi spend about 3 hours getting to the final castle. After numerous tries, we know how to get to Bowser by heart. It's pretty easy to kill him, but it's still hard (especially after staring at the screen for 3+ hours). So we're trying to beat this over-sized lizard for about an hour. I'm kicking ass and im one jump away from ending the game (and the night) when all of a sudden just as Bowser was falling down the hole to hit ultimate death, a freggin stray fireball nails Luigi in the head. Being the angry guy that I am, I chucked the little contoller at the TV (everyone was unaware that the cord happend to wrap around the whole Nintendo). I ran around the house in a rage as Tristan gave it yet another go. As I heard the familiar jingle of death a few mintues later, I walked into the common room and picked up the controller. As I lifted my controller off the ground the wire, caught on the Nintendo, lifted the whole machine off the floor at the same time Evan was yelling, "It's going to reset!!" Being in the Nintedo daze I ignored him and the machine dropped to the floor. There was silence and then the worst thing in the universe: the flashing grey screen. Now after staring at the screen in silence for about a full minute,
the house exploded. It included me stabbing random inaminate objects with a knife and Tristan drooling on the couch. Tears of all kind were shed. Many people went to sleep crying. Tristan and I stayed up watching the flashing grey screen. Then 10 minutes later, I went to the fridge opened two PBRs, went back the common room and I hit RESET. "Yes, we're doing it Tristan." Not a word was said and an hour and a half later Bowser fell down that freggin hole, and we saved that damn stupid princess.
Wow being 19 was awesome. Drinking and playing Nintendo to all hours of the morning? You really can't beat that these days. I remember Tristan and I were playing and there was a crowd of about 4-5 spectators until the reset. It was like something out of the Fred Savage classic, The Wizard.
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