College Stupidity Volume IV
The library.
It's the big building that houses more knowledge than all of the professors combined. It contains the past, present, and future of our existence. A world of knowledge just across campus, but it may as well have been on the moon for the men who occupied rooms 3 and 5 in 1990.
Chavez, Mike, and Rick were three guys who embodied the characteristics that brought about the incense rule. Collectively, I think they attended twelve full hours of class that semester, and for some reason, the fact that I had been there two years already, and hadn't been kicked out yet prompted them to look to me for scholastic advice. My advice often went like this.
"Spend some of that time you spend smokin dope going to class and you'll be allright"
These guys smoked enough dope, and played their music loud enough, that I felt like I was saving 30 bucks a night in concert tickets. It would get on my nerves, but I'm not one to rat on someone smoking dope, because you never know how that guy is going to react.
I got my revenge in a different way.
"Hey, ya know what I saw in the library the other day" I said to Chavez.
"What were you doing in the library" he said.
"Learnin' motherfucker, I'm not sleeping in an 8 by 20 room for kicks you know! I saw the anarchist's cookbook" I retorted.
"What's that?" he managed to ask through his drug induced haze.
Sigh.
"You'd have to see it to understand, it's a book that has all kinds of stuff in it. It's got how to make malatov cocktails, napalm, LSD, and other intoxicants from household items."
He stared at me for a moment before it fully soaked in.
"No shit?"
"Yeah man, no shit."
I had baited the trap, and had to just sit back and wait. The braintrust managed to find their way to the library to locate the rumored tome, and having done so, brought it back and gathered around it like it was the chronicle of the world.
A day went by, before I saw them entering the dorm carrying 3 sacks filled with bananas. I just had to ask.
"What are you dumbasses doing?"
"Oh, hey man, thanks for telling us about that book man, we're trying one of the formulas. It says you can get high off banadine."
To get banadine, in order to get high, according the the anarchists cookbook, you have to scrape the inner white layer off of banana peels. It takes about 3 lbs of banana peels. 3 lbs of banana peels is a shit load of bananas, if you were unaware, it's not 3 lbs of bananas, but 3 lbs of banana peels, which translates to...I have no idea what, and neither did they. I do know they had about 10 lbs of bananas to eat while they sat patiently scraping the shit off of a shit load of banana peels onto a baking sheet.
Once the scraping was done, they carried the scrapings down the hall to the community stove, set the thing to 350 (because apparently you bake everything at 350, it's a philosophy I happen to subscribe to) and leave it to bake.
6 hours later, Chavez is gleefully carrying a pile of blackened banana peel innards down the hall psyched about how he's going to get his inexpensive high on, oblivious to the fact that he had to eat 10 lbs of bananas, scrape the peels for 2 hours, and bake it for 6 hours. But, when you are in college, you find that you have more time than you do money, so I guess he was economizing.
The three part braintrust that lived in 3/5 divided their spoils equally, loaded their bowls, and fired up.
"Do you feel anything?"
"Not yet, how 'bout you?"
"Nope, nothing. I think they sold us some bum shit."
10 minutes later.
"OH GOD MY HEAD!"
The three of them, in unison, clutching their heads praying for it to stop, rolling in agony on the floor of their room. My roomate looked to me, saw the smile on my face, and asked, "what have you done?"
"It's quiet isn't it?"
They were out of commission for the rest of the night. You would think, at that point, they would return the evil book to the library, and maybe punch me in the face or something, wouldn't ya? But no, we're dealing with a special breed of dumbass who doesn't possess the ability to quit despite horrid and utter failure. No, these geniuses flipped the page.
A couple of days later I saw them all coming back from the store, and each of them had spent the rest of their weekly money on ....
Nutmeg.
That's right, they read that if you pack nutmeg between your cheek and gum like skoal that you'll get a buzz. I thought the banana idea was the stupidest idea they'd had, but apparently the banandine did more damage than I originally thought, because this was the stupidest idea I'd ever heard at that point in my life.
Of course, the result was the same...
"OH GOD MY HEAD PLEASE MAKE IT STOP ALL I OWN FOR JUST 5 MINUTES OF PAIN FREE EXISTENCE"
heh heh heh
They took the book back after that one. They also didn't ask me for advice anymore after that. They were gone at the end of that semester, as we had all truly expected.
It's the big building that houses more knowledge than all of the professors combined. It contains the past, present, and future of our existence. A world of knowledge just across campus, but it may as well have been on the moon for the men who occupied rooms 3 and 5 in 1990.
Chavez, Mike, and Rick were three guys who embodied the characteristics that brought about the incense rule. Collectively, I think they attended twelve full hours of class that semester, and for some reason, the fact that I had been there two years already, and hadn't been kicked out yet prompted them to look to me for scholastic advice. My advice often went like this.
"Spend some of that time you spend smokin dope going to class and you'll be allright"
These guys smoked enough dope, and played their music loud enough, that I felt like I was saving 30 bucks a night in concert tickets. It would get on my nerves, but I'm not one to rat on someone smoking dope, because you never know how that guy is going to react.
I got my revenge in a different way.
"Hey, ya know what I saw in the library the other day" I said to Chavez.
"What were you doing in the library" he said.
"Learnin' motherfucker, I'm not sleeping in an 8 by 20 room for kicks you know! I saw the anarchist's cookbook" I retorted.
"What's that?" he managed to ask through his drug induced haze.
Sigh.
"You'd have to see it to understand, it's a book that has all kinds of stuff in it. It's got how to make malatov cocktails, napalm, LSD, and other intoxicants from household items."
He stared at me for a moment before it fully soaked in.
"No shit?"
"Yeah man, no shit."
I had baited the trap, and had to just sit back and wait. The braintrust managed to find their way to the library to locate the rumored tome, and having done so, brought it back and gathered around it like it was the chronicle of the world.
A day went by, before I saw them entering the dorm carrying 3 sacks filled with bananas. I just had to ask.
"What are you dumbasses doing?"
"Oh, hey man, thanks for telling us about that book man, we're trying one of the formulas. It says you can get high off banadine."
To get banadine, in order to get high, according the the anarchists cookbook, you have to scrape the inner white layer off of banana peels. It takes about 3 lbs of banana peels. 3 lbs of banana peels is a shit load of bananas, if you were unaware, it's not 3 lbs of bananas, but 3 lbs of banana peels, which translates to...I have no idea what, and neither did they. I do know they had about 10 lbs of bananas to eat while they sat patiently scraping the shit off of a shit load of banana peels onto a baking sheet.
Once the scraping was done, they carried the scrapings down the hall to the community stove, set the thing to 350 (because apparently you bake everything at 350, it's a philosophy I happen to subscribe to) and leave it to bake.
6 hours later, Chavez is gleefully carrying a pile of blackened banana peel innards down the hall psyched about how he's going to get his inexpensive high on, oblivious to the fact that he had to eat 10 lbs of bananas, scrape the peels for 2 hours, and bake it for 6 hours. But, when you are in college, you find that you have more time than you do money, so I guess he was economizing.
The three part braintrust that lived in 3/5 divided their spoils equally, loaded their bowls, and fired up.
"Do you feel anything?"
"Not yet, how 'bout you?"
"Nope, nothing. I think they sold us some bum shit."
10 minutes later.
"OH GOD MY HEAD!"
The three of them, in unison, clutching their heads praying for it to stop, rolling in agony on the floor of their room. My roomate looked to me, saw the smile on my face, and asked, "what have you done?"
"It's quiet isn't it?"
They were out of commission for the rest of the night. You would think, at that point, they would return the evil book to the library, and maybe punch me in the face or something, wouldn't ya? But no, we're dealing with a special breed of dumbass who doesn't possess the ability to quit despite horrid and utter failure. No, these geniuses flipped the page.
A couple of days later I saw them all coming back from the store, and each of them had spent the rest of their weekly money on ....
Nutmeg.
That's right, they read that if you pack nutmeg between your cheek and gum like skoal that you'll get a buzz. I thought the banana idea was the stupidest idea they'd had, but apparently the banandine did more damage than I originally thought, because this was the stupidest idea I'd ever heard at that point in my life.
Of course, the result was the same...
"OH GOD MY HEAD PLEASE MAKE IT STOP ALL I OWN FOR JUST 5 MINUTES OF PAIN FREE EXISTENCE"
heh heh heh
They took the book back after that one. They also didn't ask me for advice anymore after that. They were gone at the end of that semester, as we had all truly expected.
posted earlier by DM, the resident idiot
10 Comments:
lmao.
OMG.
No, you never told me that one.
you truly are evil dear. Truly.
NOW do the juice one!
lol I'll do that one some other time. I saw some really stupid shit happen at college, it's a wonder I survived.
My understanding is that nutmeg actually is slightly hallucinogenic in large doses. Very large doses.
After all, something is putting the cheer in xmas.
But it also apparently gives you bowel issues that far outwigh the positives.
Best to be done in the "hole" in prison, I'm told. No pun intended.
That's beautiful. Ruthless...but beautiful.
That damn book has messed more people up, I'm always surprised it's not on the best sellers list.
I could give it out at christmas to people I don't lke.
Wait, nevermind, I can't afford that many books.
ahhh, library hijinx.
If they come back to you with chapped lips and ask you what to do to heal their chapped lips, tell them to rub fresh bird shit on their lips. Having read about them, it's a possibility. (It won't really cure their chapped lips but it will keep them from licking them.)
Hahahaha damn man evil and funny,now my sides hurt.Be good blogger and do as Lisa says,post the juice story.
Hahahhahah.
The things I wish I had known about when I was in College. I have a few people I would have loved to share that book with.
LOL... I love your blog! I'm definitely comming back!
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