To get into the University of Michigan, one must fill out a bunch of papers and stuff. When one is accepted, he or she is given an intimidating envelope filled with even more crap you have to fill out while paying a great amount of attention to everything that is submitted. Seeing as I'm retarded, I did not look over everything as closely as I was supposed to. At all. In fact, every day I suffer minor metaphorical rectal bleeding from the massive prisonlike rapings that have occurred from my mistake. Anytime someone could come up to me and say "Hey, nice figurative blood stains on the back of your pants." and I could respond with "Yes, my ineptitude in the application response process resulted in the symbolic naughty bits of the system to do bad things to me while I'm dressed in an emblematic cheerleading outfit." Thank the Great Llama God all of this stuff only happened illustratively. But hey, even if it happened literally I might at least get to keep that neat cheerleading outfit.

Above: The locations of Central Campus, Tropical North Campus, and An Adorable Sock Puppet. Inset: A yeti, the only thing that can survive on the icy hellhole that is North Campus. Inset inset: a frowning face, most likely mine, only more yellow.

So what exactly was the great error I made while returning all of that paperwork? Well, it goes like this. Apparently there's more than one campus here at the U of M. I was aware of this, but I didn't know the difference. There was a North Campus and a Central Campus. Hell, on the little map they gave me they were only a few inches apart. I figured, "Hey, I can just walk from one to the other, so it doesn't matter which one I pick. Wow, college is going to be great!" If I could meet up with my former self that made that decision I'd punch him in the face and say, "Listen, you imposter, don't you ever think that again!" Then I'd take his wallet. Hey, free money from the past. And the only person I'd have to thank is myself for getting mugged by myself.

All science fiction scenarios aside, I probably should have done some research on U of M's various campuses. The only thing I knew was that North Campus was pretty, which it is. No one had told me Central Campus was pretty, so I decided I may as well live on the prettier campus. Hell, that's how women are chosen, right?

Central Campus, as I later found out, is where the university keeps all of its important classes, the majority of its student body, and all of its fine dining facilities. North Campus, on top of looking awesome, is filled with miserable desolation and lots and lots of year-round snow. Oh, and it has a McDonald's. That way, whenever I'm unhappy with myself I eat myself into oblivion with greasy animal by-products. Mmmmm! Being reminded of a huge mistake never tasted so good!

Dorm Life

One of the few good things about living in a frozen tundra of death is the fact that I live in Bursley Hall, the newest dormitory. One may think "Hey, new is usually good! I bet your rooms are awesome and definitely bigger than the average breadbox!" Well, One, you are wrong. You couldn't be wronger. If there was, for some reason, a Being Wrong Contest then you would win and they'd put a tiara with "Wrong" written on it on your head and then you'd get shot or something. I figured a joke that lame would have to end with an assassination. Oh, and you're wrong because the dorms here are small. Smaller than the average breadbox, or at least the size of a moderately large breadbox or two small breadboxes put next to each other. But definitely not that much bigger than a regular-sized one.

Fortunately for you, reader, the University of Michigan's website provides all of you with a handy Virtual Tour of Bursley Hall, where I currently reside. Feel free to click the link and be amazed at the wonders of technology that allow you to view rooms far, far away. And then after the wonders of technology have ceased to amaze you, feel free to glance down at the virtual tour I've arranged for you.

Just use your imagination and pretend it's something better.

This virtual tour is just a picture of my desk. I can't really do that fancy rotating room thing on that other online tour. But if you look at the dresser on the left you can see a graphing calculator and I think a toothbrush. Wait, that might be something else. Some candy, maybe? No, wait, nevermind, it's not some candy. Candy doesn't come in little boxes like that. And if you look at some other stuff in the picture, you can observe different objects, many of which are things that are not the same. Also, note that there is a small screaming person on my monitor. I think she adds a certain edgy delight to my desk. It makes my workspace say "Come here. Everyone seems to enjoy me. Even screaming people." while also stating, "If you sit here then you will be screamed at." My desk fucking rocks.

Aside from my totally awesome desk, I have many other things in the room, but all of them are too interesting to photograph and show you. Still, I'll do what I can to describe them. There's some carpet on the floor and some beds and one of those small televisions with a VCR built in. And there's a refrigerator and a towel rack and I think that's about it. I might have left a few things about, but that's the general gist of it.

And holy hell, it's all so small. How small is it, you ask? Well then, I think I'll tell you. My room is the size of a shoebox. In case some of you forgot what a shoebox looks like and how big it is in comparison to a cat, I've provided a visual aid.

The only way I'd get pussy in my dorm. Get it? Because cats have vaginas and you can have sex with them. Nevermind that comment. What could have ended as a simple verbal pun grew into an unwanted joke about me fucking a cat.

So freshman year eventually came to an end as do all amazing, life-changing experiences. Even though my dorm room was small and it was in the middle of nowhere, I liked it despite its obvious flaws. Oh sure, there were better dorm rooms out there, but I stuck with mine even though it could never amount to anything great. I now understand why some people decide to nurse their sick pets or perhaps not throw their baby daughters into a river.

But sophomore year I learned how to read a map and landed myself a sweet room on Central Campus, far away from North Campus and its engineering classes and Asian people. Not that I have a problem with engineers or Asians, it's just that when you're on North Campus and it's so full of pale white men and Asians you're like, "Whoa, where's the anime festival?" I'm sorry, that was insensitive, but I was only kidding. I'm friends with a lot of engineers, and truth be told, I have a thing for Asian chicks, but don't tell them that. Unless you're an Asian chick, in which case, FUCK!

During the first couple weeks of class I visited the house of some friends and inadvertantly put a cat's head in my mouth. I can't really explain how it happened, but I'm guessing I picked up the cat and opened my mouth, and the rest is history. Oh, and somebody took a picture of it. And since I'm not one to let good photography go to waste, I put this picture in a place where everyone in my hall would see it.

I used to wonder why women had to get to know me before liking me. After looking at this picture again I guess I don't have wonder anymore.

Well, I think that's enough talk of dorm rooms and cat violation. Shit, I've already associated cats with unsavory acts twice. It's like I've accidentally developed some kind of sick furry theme. Here, let me move on to the more nerdy but equally unsexed part of sophomore year.

If any of you have noticed that lame little column on the left side of the main page, I've been pimping a game called Crisis Wolverine 2. In short, it's a role-playing game (or "RPG" as the nerds like to call them) set on U of M campus. It's got a pretty epic storyline, some character development, composed music, and numerous other things. This isn't your basic Flash game, and for that reason people didn't want to sit down and be enthralled by an amazing story and clever dialogue. Nope, everyone who didn't play it is pretty much a big rubbery dong.

What made this game so special? Was it the 15 or so clever people with which I worked or the hours upon hours spent fine tuning our masterpiece? Not really, no. I'd say it was special because it taught me a valuable lesson: If you work on a video game, you will fucking hate it by the time you are done making it. I don't care if you spend three years perfecting a virtual blowjob simulator; by the time it's released out to the public, you will be sick of simulated oral sex. As I worked on this game, I corrected page after page of typos and went over major plot points several times and damn it, toward the end of this game I almost bought a donkey and moved back to North Campus, where there is no electricity with which to power those damn computer games.

You can thank me for lines like that.

That dialogue comes directly before one of the game's major boss battles. This just goes to show that you should not trust me with anything important or I will totally mess around and ruin your precious climactic video game showdown.

So I know a lot of you females are wondering, "What the hell is a RPG? Can you wear it on your feet?" To this I say "No, ladies, a RPG isn't a type of shoe. It's where all your free time goes when you should be off doing homework or losing your virginity." You see, a lot of the guys on the CW2 team (And I say "guys" because we had 3 girls in the group and everybody else was a dude) loved video games as much as I did and decided that their time was better spent indoors talking about a new video game and not having sex instead of their usual routine, which was just not having sex.

Of course, I'm kidding once again. For all I know, every one of my teammates could have gone back to their dorms and made wild monkey love for hours on end, but I made that generalization based on this fact: Women hate video games. Women know that video games can keep a man's attention longer than any lingerie or lack of gag reflex ever could. Video games are getting better over time whereas women, I hate to say it, are just staying the same. And if a game is great, then several years later it's known as a "classic." If a woman is great you know what she is after a long time? Somebody's grandmother. So next time a girl doesn't want to go to an arcade with you, it's not because she's simply disinterested with technology. It's because the games you're playing now won't be fat and droopy in 20 years.

I guess I did other stuff freshman and sophomore years, but that's all you're really going to hear about on this page. I may feature a page on college dating in the near future, or I may tell you the whimsical tale of how I befriended a one-legged homeless man and saved a hotdog stand. But I think after the year I spent not updating, we can all agree on one thing: I'm fucking lazy. I may not update in another year. OR I may update tomorrow. But chances are, I'll sit on my ass and play computer games more than I'll write down funny internet jokes about cat fucking (Why the hell did I dwell on that for so long on this page? Fuck!). So yeah, until I'm feeling narcissistic again, that's all in today's Me Page entry.

Click my student ID to return to the Me Page.