Go Green: Go Turn in Your Testicles

The College Survival Guide - Part 4 - When's Naptime?

Class: I’m putting class right after partying and its playmates because this is the closest they’ll ever come to coexisting in your college experience. College courses are a massive game of chicken, in which you compete with your peers and instructors over who can retain interest in the subject for the longest period of time. Here are three simple rules that, if followed, will minimize your work load.

True Genius

1. Required Reading is a suggestion. Most College professors lack teaching credentials or even basic communication skills, if you really think they’re going to be able to correlate a course between reading material and a lesson plan, you’re wrong. Instructors prefer to ramble about their own opinions and favorite parts of any subject, simply regurgitate those into tests and papers and you’re golden.

Metaphor for the collegiate student/teacher relationship.

2. Office Hours are for brown-nosing suck-up bitches who are more adept at rimming their teacher than performing any given task. If you want to waste more time talking to the lady who makes every historic event a leaping off point for feminist diatribe you’re either masochistic or so desperate for grades you’d suck shit off of broken glass for an A.

Pau Gasol: Philosopher, Saint, Caveman, Seal Rapist.

3. When life gives you lemons… outsource them to a lemonade factory. Find friends, friends with talents. Put up with these “friends,” pretend to like them. Then when it comes time to write that term paper you’re “not good at writing research papers” or “terrible at making Powerpoint presentations.” A good “friend” will assist you, and you will subtly dump the work load in their lap and you can text-flirt with that girl you fingerbanged last weekend. With any luck, you can get through college while only doing half the work for your required classes, and still pass.

You’re welcome.

And really, I just wanted to include a random picture of Pau Gasol.

The College Survival Guide - Part 3 - The Gateway to the Rest of Your Life

A college student, hard at work.

Drugs: Wait, you think smoking weed is still cool? Go back to 7^th grade, douche-nozzle. This is college. We all take ecstasy and do that gay wrist dancing thing with glowing bracelets at raves. That way we can’t remember when we got molested by the burly, balding man at Monster Massive who gave out free pacifiers, think up an excuse for why we failed out of school, or get through the interview for a custodial job at Wal-Mart without sneezing out chunks of brain tissue.

The College Survival Guide - Part 2 - I Want To Be an Alcoholic When I Grow Up!

Drinking: Naturally you’re going to be doing this in college. If you’re not drinking, you’re a terrible college student and you should probably just go to ITT Tech, you anti-social mouth-breather. Get used to Keystone, Natty, and other beer that tastes like the water out of a turtle tank. College students have no money, and like hillbillies forced to brew moonshine out of pit sweat and deer entrails, your peers will be willing to drink anything that promises a buzz.

The choice of homeless men everywhere! Make Popov your rubbing alcohol vodka!

That is, unless they’re the dreaded girls from Orange County. The stupid bitches who realized too late in high school that even though their parents could pay for a new Mercedes, they couldn’t bribe the entrance committee at UCLA. These girls are spoiled and often refuse to drink beer. They will instead request whatever liquor you do not currently have in possession. If you have Vodka, they want Rum. If you have Wine, they only drink Sauvignon Blanc from France. They do this merely to eliminate any chance you have of getting them drunk enough to play bumper cars or a little game I like to call ‘The Meatwhistle Symphony in E Minor.” Instead, lower your standards.

Remember, the opposite sex doesn’t get more attractive when you’re drunk, you simply stop caring.

The College Survival Guide - Part 1 - CSULB: Taint of the Golden Coast

Before coming to college you probably heard stuff about higher learning and broadening your mind with beautiful life lessons and friendships that will stay with you forever. Of course, upon entering college you thought “Yeah, I’m going to have stellar experiences and grow as a person.” No. No you didn’t. If you say you did, you’re a liar.

You came to college because you think it’s gonna be awesome to go to parties and sports games and that you’ll meet awesome people who will fuck you. Well, if you think that’s close to the truth either you are WRONG. Those are all LIES. Here’s the truth about this campus: who blows, who will blow you, and how to get rid of all that smoke the world has been blowing up your ass about the college experience for years, all neatly compartmentalized into as many segments as I want to create.

Because I have experience, am awesome, and hold a mastery of the English language somewhere between that of Shakespeare and that guy who wrote “fuck” on the bathroom wall in elementary school, I’m gonna be the momma goose and guide you little goslings.

(Not to be confused with Ryan Gosling, the douche from The Notebook who unrealistically got action while sporting a hobo beard)

Partying: Let’s start with the most important thing about college, Parties. The places where you can get alcohol, drugs, and maybe meet someone fucked up on enough of these to make the mistake of rubbing up against you. At Long Beach State you only have one option if you want to go to a good party, leave Long Beach. Santa Barbara and San Diego are each about 90 minutes away, flip a coin and pick one. Otherwise, settle for cruising to an apartment that smells like it is wallpapered in burnt cannabis, has a temperature hovering around 100 degrees, and a host that demands you all use library voices so that he doesn’t get another noise complaint.

If you’re into increasing your chances of getting roofied or mugged, drive into the part of town that looks like the sewer level of a video game and find the nearest frat house for…WAIT…the exact same thing you’d get at any apartment, except now with more douchebags in a larger space. If you give in to the constant bombardment by promoters on facebook, you’ll venture into an 18+ club, because dancing and being around a bunch of assholes is always better when there’s not even the option of drinking away the pain.

Makes you wish you’d taken those honors courses back in high school, doesn’t it?

Women: Simplified

Helvetica...For your knowledge.