Tales From The Frat: House of Pain

I figured I’d start a little mini-series in Donzi’s Basement called Tales from the Frat. Why? Because in 4 years of college I easily went from being on “fist bumping terms” with the Big Man upstairs, to getting my ass prepared to take Satan’s spear up it. I have endless stories of what went on in our brothel we called a frat and I am here to share some with you. All names will be changed to protect our sorry identities from the real world. You know who you are.

Tales from the Frat: House of Pain

Of course the idea spawned from the master(bator) himself, codename: Mike Giunta. What a great idea it would be to have an inter-pledgeclass competition in our house, which would test the fratastic skills we all claimed to have. It would take guts, it would take stamina, and it would possibly take a trip to the hospital. What spawned from his sick little mind was a competition of Olympic size proportion, and hence House of Pain was born. Here’s how it went: 3 Pledge classes lived in the House: the Rhos, the Sigmas, and the Taus. I of course was on the heavily favored Sigmas. I forgot the exact rules so I talked to a fellow Sigma, Dr.Greenthumb, who was profoundly involved with the actual rule making. They were as follows:

Each class starts with:
1 x 24 Case of Natty/Beast Light
1 x 5.0 liter Bag-O wine
1 x Handle (2.75 liters) of Bankers Club vodka
1 pack (20x) of Marlboro Reds

(everything starts at room temperature)

-You can mix/dilute with anything but if you bring it to the table it must be finished as well
-All of the numbers are per 12 members eligible (not just who is man enough to show up)
-You uptreat/downtreat each one proportionally to the number of eligible members
(ex: 24 beers per 12 eligible members = 12 beers if only 6 are eligible)
-1 cigarette at a time, don’t have to inhale, but you need to smoke all of it
-If you throw up, you are out, but what you drank/puked up to that point counts
-First team to finish everything wins

There you have it. I know we have problems. We are alcoholics and unfortunately some of those that participated in this healthy event actually now have very successful jobs. Except me. We all took it to a different level when we actually dressed up in team uniforms. The Rho’s and Tau’s uni’s were nonsense, but we the Sigmas, clothed in Wife Beaters and Diapers certainly were champions even before the competition started. I personally think it gave us an edge. How? I am not sure. We all were talking shit to each other, but I knew the Sigmas had some big guns working for us. Dr. Greenthumb and BlackCock: masters of Cigarettes and Beer, Redneck and Thunder: Funnel extraordinaires, Me, Satan, CookieMonster, DavidStar: Vodka vultures, & Goatboy, Red-Man, The Crow, SBD, & GarySmith: Bag-o-Brawlers.

We were not really concerned about the younger Taus; Mike Giunta and his Rho’s would be the closest thing to a challenge. It was never a question if we were going to win or not, more, how much could we embarrass our opponents. We had a flawless alcohol distribution setup and a good amount of bottomless iron stomachs on our side, so when we heard the bell, it was go time. It only took about a minute until people from all sides were filling up the nearby trash bins with their recent consumptions. With heavy 80’s tunes blasting all around us, we were surrounded in a sea of vices, but persevered in an ocean of camaraderie. All Sigmas stepped up when our fellow man succumbed to his body’s cry for help. Non-smokers became smokers, the funnel became another appendage, and cups of vodka were devoured like glasses of water. It was a glorious sight to see. I believe it was close to 12 minutes when our last cigarette was smoked and last FK9 of vodka was passed around like a ceremonious trophy.

It was a good fight by all parties, and it was time to take it to yet another level as a house. What perused after was a series of events that should have landed many in the hospital. It started with table flipping, which got the whole floor soaked. We all realized we were violently drunk, and when there is a soaking wet floor, it only calls for … you guessed it, Beer Slides! One man, two man, group slides. It was like Crocodile Mile except your eyes burnt, there were two schmucks squeegeeing beer sludge back in the middle of the floor, and instead of a friendly bump at the end there was broken glass. It was out of control and there was no one that was going to stop it.

The drinking, sliding, singing and general shitfaced shenanigans continued somehow for a while. When all was said and done, to cap off the night, the Sigmas decided to piss their diapers as a sign of dominance. Or blacked-out-ness? This was just one simple night, in my 3 ½ years with The Frat. One simple idea that became one momentous event. I personally encourage all Frats across the land, to take a night off from the tang, and get fratastic. Man up and become champions. Conquer the House of Pain.

Retrojunk

I used to contribute some articles here and there to another website. Since that website hasn't produced anything significant in the past 4 months, I'm taking them back ... I'm taking them all back. I wrote this particular article a couple months ago, but after making a long overdue pit stop back to Retrojunk.com, I decided to post it on my website. I hope I don't get sued.


I have grown to greatly dislike some things in my life. Many things, actually. But something that always drove me nuts was nasty cereal commercials. You know the ones I am talking about. The old school ones where there is either kids debating and crunching on one Kix at a time, or some old guy in the background of a farm scene talking about grain, barley, & corn trying to sound all wholesome and rustic. Asshole. Or spoons diving into a full bowl of waiting Rice Krispies, people smiling saying “mmmmm”, that “part of a complete breakfast” bullshit line they’d throw in there, as they show the cereal in the midst of a breakfast orgy. Who the fuck eats a big bowl of cornflakes covered in blueberries, half a grapefruit, pancakes stacked 5 high, douched in maple syrup and butter, Belgium waffles with powdered sugar, toast, and has a big glass of OJ to wash it all down. This isn't Pleasantville, it's Fat tits America.

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, an esteemed colleague of mine, Ryan, introduced me to one of the greatest websites I now visit: www.retrojunk.com. Just take a gander and you’ll understand. And seeing some of the 80’s and 90’s cereal commercials really started to grind my groin all over again. It also got me thinking: wear did all these old school honey and sugar packed cereal commercials go? I still watch some TV, but when is the last time someone caught an Apple Jacks commercial? I’ve seen Kashi, but I haven’t seen the Honey Smacks hip green frog in a while (shortened to Smacks in the 90’s). I still see the Honey Nut Cheerios bee buzzing around, but what happened to Sugar Bear’s Golden Crisps in that beautiful gold box it used to come in? Remember Cookie Crisps? I sure as hell haven’t seen that crazy criminal and his dog looking for them lately.

Yes that’s right, families used to give their kids milk and miniature cookies for a “complete breakfast” with “8 vitamins and minerals.” I think cookies were in the mineral category in the 80’s and 90’s, and I am pretty sure I remember a Vitamin Ch(ocolate). I might have to double check with Count Chocula on that one. Maybe they stopped advertising these nutritious sugar packed nightmares because every other child has ADHD now? Nahhh.

In closing, I loathe old school and some new school cereal commercials, and I am bewildered where some of our lovable characters that encouraged us to rot our teeth went. I think we can all agree, though, that it's time to give the Silly Rabbit and the Lucky Charms Leprechaun some of their own fuckin cereal already, before they go postal on those politically correct cartoon kids.

Here’s some exciting links:

Berry Berry Kix: http://www.retrojunk.com/details_commercial/1068/ (I hate kids)

Kix: http://www.retrojunk.com/details_commercial/218/ (kids plus old bastard in the background)

Teddy Bears Cereal http://www.retrojunk.com/details_commercial/1707/ (wow forgot about these guys)

Corn Pops http://www.retrojunk.com/details_commercial/1306/ (this whole thing sucks)

Mueslix? : http://www.retrojunk.com/details_commercial/675/ (that old bastard I was talking about)

Fruity and CoCoa Pebbles http://www.retrojunk.com/details_commercial/26/ (old school)

Honey Combs http://www.retrojunk.com/details_commercial/150/ (jesus)


There are some other great links that must be checked out. He-Man and She-Ra talking about your naughty area is classic.

http://retrojunk.com/details_commercial/3336/

Don't Do Crack ... but Masterbating in a Movie Theater is Fine

http://retrojunk.com/details_commercial/2826/

Just Let Your Sooouuuullll Gloooooowwwww

http://retrojunk.com/details_commercial/2042/

Definitely John Micheal Higgins, from Christopher Guest and other movies

http://retrojunk.com/details_commercial/2410/

Full House definitely stole this

http://retrojunk.com/details_commercial/77/


From my mind to yours, Donz

Follow Up

Good to see other people are on board for Global Warming awareness. Check out Ryan's blog at Tales From a Cardboard Fort: http://talesfromacardboardfort.blogspot.com/ where he has a link to a free video of An Inconvenient Truth. He apparently commented the link onto my original "Inconvenient Truth" entry, however, in a drunken stupor I must have erased it. 1.) I didn't even know people commented on my blog, and B.) I don't know how to erase comments even if they did. I guess when I am cocked, everything just works out. Also a solid link to show how much we suck as a environmentally aware country, sent to me via Gmail Chat by Ryan, is http://www.boston.com/news/world/europe/articles/2007/02/04/45_nations_in_warming_pact/ .

Unfortunately our country's law makers are old people, who could give a shit about our future. So they make excuses why we are not part of any Global Warming committees throughout the world.

OK, no more preaching. I will soon be selling hemp skirts and necklaces and Save the Polar Bears T-Shirts, and donating all the money to my gambling problem.

From my mind to yours, Donz.

This is the true story of...

I can't be the only one to notice the quirky names of the people selected to be on Reality TV. It seems to be a prerequisite for production to pick at least 3 people with some, dare I say, far-out names. I might be so inclined to start a conspiracy theory that all Reality TV "stars" are the offspring of various Flower Children from the same Communal Hippie Farm in the woods of Vermont. They thought they would get back at The Man by banging anyone they could in the community, giving their kids asinine names, discarding the inbreds and making them slaves, and raising the "good ones" to pursue a life in front of something called Television, which is not allowed on their Hippie Havens. They would also feed them pixie sticks with every lunch and Nerds at every dinner, provide funny mushrooms every month, beat them for no reason, read them poetry, and a select few would be molested, for an extra mental tsunami. That's just my feeling anyway. Another theory: If you have a fucked up name, most likely, you're fucked up. There are a ridiculous amount of Reality Television programs on today, I am only going to look at a couple.

The Real World was really the beginning of Reality TV. I comprised a nice list of some names I thought were a little out there. I wasn't really surprised with some of the brotha's and sista's names, but some of these white kid's names are wacky tabaccy. So here are some Real World cast member's names that appeared over the years:

Normand, Mohammad, Judd, Jacinda, Lars, Montana*, Genesis*, Elka*, Syrus*, Kameelah*, Amaya, Kaia, Teck, Aneesa, Theo, Trichelle, Irulan, Alton, Arissa, Ace, Frankie (chick), Cameran, Jacquese, Shavonda, Karamo, Landon, Wes, Johanna, Nehemiah, Melinda, Paula, Svetlana, Colie, Brooke, Davis, Tyrie...

Don't forget about Road Rules! Granted some people, again, are not just WASPs, with a couple being from overseas. But still, c'mon:

Effie, Los, Kit, Belou, Noah, Kalle, Roni, Chadwick, Kefla, Piggy, Holly, Abe, Ayanna*, Pawel*, Pua*, Yes (Yes? seriously?)*, Latherrian, Msaada, Blair, Jisela, Kendal, Abram, Cara, Donnell, Ibis, Kina, Diem, Chandla, Aviv, Linette

*Same season

I never watched Survivor, but after some research (Wikipedia is sick), some of these names are out of control:

Colby, Tina, Vecepia, Neleh, Clay, Sandra, Lillian, Amber, Rupert, Twila, Ethan, Lex, Shii, Yul, Aras (If you pronounce the last couple of names with a drunken Irish accent, it sounds like: Ethan, Let's Shave Your Ass)

I am not going to even tap into Big Brother, America's Next Top Model, and other crap shows that we waste our lives watching. Damn marathons. However, I recently finished watching a way over-produced, almost fake, season of Bravo's Top Chef. Sam should have won. All that watched, know what I am talking about. Anywho, I figured to throw out some sweet Top Chef names over the past two seasons:

Suyai, Otto, Mia, Elia, Marcel, Ilan, Harold, Tiffani, Miguel, Candice

Again, this Blog is obviously useless, as is this article. However, I am confident that this issue has crossed your mind at least once. Shit, I thought I was getting on The Real World just because there hadn't been a Don on yet! That and my extensive collection of emotional baggage that I carry with me. I made it a couple of rounds, but they stopped calling me. Oh, well.

From my mind to yours, Donz.

Matt Foley

I found myself sitting in the middle of 30,000 people listening to someone try to motivate me to be a better salesman, an entrepreneur, a go getter, how to shoot for the top, & be #1. I looked around and watched everyone nodding & smiling, high-fiving eachother in their heads, "getting it," ready to attack life's problems. I looked around and felt God smack me in the face. Teenage Jesus told me to wake up.

Have you ever been in the presence of a motivational speaker. Well, a lot of what they have to say has good meaning, and you know sometimes we need a little pep talk in our lives. I always thought that if you needed motivation to do your job, then you're in the wrong career. Sure there are days we just don't feel like working. I haven't worked for 15 years; shit, I'm still kickin. That's what pick-me-ups are for. But in the last 6 months, in one way or another, I have found myself being in the audience of a motivational speaker at least 4 times. I have even been in the presence of the great Zig Ziglar, the most famous motivational speaker of them all. A brilliant orator, with a lot of good inspiring messages to share with us. He looks like and has the energy of the Juiceman and talks like Ted Turner and President Bush on speed. He sounds like the offspring of an oil tycoon and an evangelist. I am sure it is much better to just read what Zig has to say, unless you love to escape into his Southern Gangbang of Words, which is just treated like a New Years resolution anyway. I had a "Garden State" moment where I was in slow motion watching all these people around me, except I wasn't tripping on ether or ecstasy. I wondered what the blow I was doing there, in the presence of all these lost souls and a cult leader. Tens of thousands cramped in an arena, flipping through their help notebooks, listening to this guy from Texas tell them how to "be the best." It was sad. I was sad.

Fuck motivational speakers. Fuck people making money by selling me "A Road Map to Financial Success," "10 Steps to Be a Better Man," "20,501 Ways to Live Stress Free and Be Mentally Healthy, Because You're a Fat Slob with No Goals and Need to Get Up Off Your Ass, Put Down the Chicken Wings, and Get a Job...a Real Job." I also was addicted to some self help books for a while. Fuck those too. Now, I only limit myself to reading autobiographies of successful people, anything the Dali Lama writes, anything by George Carlin, the Book of Revelations, and any Kama Sutra/sex tip book. Believe me, I need it. I haven't been with a women since 1987, her name was Georgina, and she had a deep voice.

You need a real pep talk? Here it is, a free Pick-Me-Up from Donzi:

1.) You're life isn't as bad as someone else is, like me. There's definitely a kid in Africa, whose parents both died an ugly death from AIDS, and is starving right now, with flies and shit on his face. You could sound like Gilbert Godfrey. You could be Gilbert Godfrey. Imagine O.J.'s kids? What about Lindsey Lohan's vagina? Wait, umm? You could be married to a paperboy. Shit people, look around, there's definitely someone worse off.

2.) Kill something. Anything. An ant, a bird, your aunt, whatever. If you feel even a little sorry that you just killed a living thing, you're going to be OK. You have some compassion in you. That's normal and you will eventually be rewarded. Plus, they're dead and you aren't. You're the lucky one. So get the fuck out there and kill something.

3.) Unless you are doing something that you love, stop. Are you afraid? You're a bitch. Suck it up, pull out your wedgie, fuck everyone else, and go get what you want. It doesn't pay well, so what. Steal if you must. You're dying slowly, second by second, so try and live while you can, pussy.

4.) This is crucial. In my eyes, you must do these steps to truly be a happy person.
-First, sing in the shower as loud as you can. This is the best you'll ever sound.
-Sing as loud as you can, when you are stuck in traffic. Don't worry if people look at you weird, they're weird for not singing.
-High-five strangers on the street
-People Watch
-Cross-Dress at least once and sing a Supremes (male) or Temptations (female) song in front of the mirror
-Fart in an elevator. Admit it.
-Shit your pants at a supermarket.
-Wear a Halloween costume on Easter, Passover, or Ramadan.
-Talk to yourself in public. Even better, slap yourself once.
-Lots of sex, with a lot of different people, in a lot of different positions.
-And last but not least, dial a random number & try to have a 5 minute conversation with a stranger. Challenge yourself and stick to only starting each sentence with "You."

So in conclusion, my life sucks worse than yours, but I don't need some coked up wacko showing me the yellow-brick road to happiness. So, get out there, get wacky, and get what you want. Want internal bliss? Well it's going to happen either tomorrow or never. Cheer up Charlie, and deal with it. I'm going to go take a nap, and maybe wake up tomorrow.

From my mind to yours, Donz.