Sunday, November 16, 2008

How to: Burn Your Dorm Down

Freshman year was the worst year of my life. One day me and two of my roommates were sitting in my room. I was on my computer; the other two were watching basic channels through static on a TV with rabbit ears.

From the angle I was sitting, I noticed a glow from the kitchen. I poked my head out of the door and calmly said, “Guys, the kitchen is on fire.” Almost too calm. They said, “What!?” and I said “The kitchen’s on fire.” They said “Run!”

So we ran to the kitchen. There was a pan on the stove that was engulfed in flames. For a few seconds we stood there, freaking out, not knowing what to do. I started screaming for salt. “SALT, SALT, WHERE’S THE SALT” as I opened cabinets and closets. I don’t know why I was yelling for salt, but I’m pretty sure I confused it with sand. Then I filled a cup of water and stood there, then remembered water on a grease fire was no bueno. My other roommate ran and got the fire extinguisher. But by that time, the cabinets above the stove were on fire, along with everything around the stove. As soon as he ran back into the kitchen, the sprinklers kicked on. My fearless RA, who was in his room with the door shut, came crawling out on his hands and knees while we stood around the stove. I would later laugh for hours about this.

We ran outside.

Thinking it was another fire alarm, the dorm evacuated slowly. My other roommate, who was in our apartment, came out soaked. He had fallen asleep and we had left him for dead. All the SALT screaming did not wake him.

We sat on the hill facing my dorm (East 4) and watched the water run out of our apartment down the back stairs. I laughed so hard. At that time in my life I found entertainment in the most horrible situations. “This will make a great story.” I thought. Others did not feel the same.

We called LUPD and the fire department. It took them 45 minutes to get there. By that time, our apartment, and the one below it were completely ruined by the water. They made us go, get our stuff, and put it in our cars.

We were all relocated. Everyone stayed together except for me. I was put in a dorm with people I didn’t know with 5 weeks of school left. With all of my belongings in my car, my new RA wrote me up the next day for skipping convocation. We exchanged words.

Later we would find out that it was $26,000 worth in damage. They tried to charge my roommate, but no one knew who started the fire so they couldn’t make him pay. As a memento of that day, I ripped a knob off the stove after they pulled it out of the apartment, and put it on my dashboard. It’s disgusting.

Then me and my girlfriend broke up. Awesome year guys, awesome.

Friday, November 14, 2008

How to: Attend a Black Dance Party

It’s been a year since I attended my first black dance party. Did I know it was a black dance party? No. Kyle, how can you say it was a black dance party? There were 4 white guys. Me, the two guys I came with, and one other white guy.

It took place in a shopping center downtown at a restaurant. Very random. Naturally I blended in like a chameleon. I strolled to the dance floor.

Dancing is funny. Based on my research, black people dance in large groups. Unfortunately, I was not in one of their groups. I tried, but that got awkward real fast. I danced by myself. Imagine a curly blonde fro in the midst of real fros. I was home. I felt the eyes of people around me. Eyes that told of disbelief, amazement and jealousy. “Why Lance, I am rather intrigued by the Caucasian- American on the dance floor. He exudes charisma, but yet remains suave and debonair as a fine young gentleman of yesteryear.” I heard a black man say to his friend.

A ruckus breaks out in the back. I just keep dancing. The music stops. The DJ makes an announcement for everyone to “be cool.” The music plays. The ruckus turns into a scuffle. “What’s with all the hubbub?” I says. The owner told everyone to go home, and that the cops were on their way. The ruckus in the back turned into a brawl that involved a lot of people. Everyone ran, and was screaming. I grabbed my one white girl friend, and all of us got outside. Suddenly everyone pours out of the doors, and there’s a fist fight. The cops pull in, everyone is still screaming and running to their cars.Rumors of guns and knives. I don’t know, but I got the heck out of dodge. Cops swarmed, I yelled “get in the car, get in the car.” And we drove home.

I was sad. I just wanted to dance. I considered doing an interpretive dance that would bring tears and peace to those in the room. They would have loved it. Instead…that did not happen. The end.

shoutout bill.

Monday, November 10, 2008

How to: Save a Life and Eat Ice Cream

My friends were down at my college last year visiting. You know, just visiting. There is an ice cream shop called Mountain Frost Creamery. We went there. We felt as young children getting ready to embark on a maiden voyage- an ice-creamy adventure that would result in a debilitating sugar crash.

We walked in. Wide eyed. “Oh boy, oh boy!!” my friend Eric said. We picked out what we wanted and looked around. There was no one working. We became enraged. We were those people. The ones that rang the bell. No answer. As my angry friend Eric began preparations to burn down the store, I said, “Nay, Eric. Hold thy temper as a man with strong hands.” No, I didn’t say that.

My friend Phil began to walk behind the counter, then looked at me. He said, “guys, come look. She’s laying on the ground.” Oh crap. I walked back there, and sure enough there was a girl lying on the ground. She had contorted her body to create one terrifying angle. I slowly approached and asked her if she was okay. In retrospect, that was a stupid question. She peaked through the hair that was covering her face, kind of like those girls from Japanese horror movies.

She said her stomach hurt. Thinking we were doctors, we diagnosed her with appendicitis. We called her boss, then we called 911. Joe and Phil put her in a chair and stopped her from falling over multiple times. “Chivalry is not dead my lady” said Phil.

I marveled at the gelato.

As a concerned patron of this fine ice cream establishment, I knew my duty. Hannah and I immediately grabbed aprons, and put them on. We ventured to the ice cream counter and began to heavily sample the ice cream. For quality control of course. Just then a co-worker showed up. My friends said Kyle he’s here, take it off. Fortunately, the apron got knotted up, and I had to shimmy it down off my feet. I kicked it off, and we walked in front of the counter.

Expecting a free ice cream, we ordered. We received 20 percent off. Once again, heroism goes unnoticed. It’s the price we pay. I can’t wait to see her again, and tell her how we saved her life. Surely there will be parade of epic proportions on the streets at high noon. Shriners included.

Here’s some pics of the action

Thursday, November 6, 2008

How to Sell Yourself For Money

Today was fun. I was sitting at my computer wondering where I was going to make some money, because Lynchburg has decided not to hire college students. Thanks. I decided to take a nap.

While laying there, I realized that I could make money AND take a nap at the same time.

I went to give plasma.

I have never given plasma. I called to find out where the clinic was and said, "you cant be serious." It was in the shadiest shopping center in town, and was next to a bowling alley.
I walked in.

It was packed with people. All sorts of people. They did a bunch of tests on me to make sure I didn't have AIDS, and other bad things in me. I had to read so many release forms, that I began to think I had AIDS, along with several other diseases.

The nurse asked me questions.

She said the questions so fast that I didn't really have time to think about what she was saying. So i just kept saying "no." That seemed to be the answer she was looking for.

I walked back into a room. A large room with about 50 reclined chairs full of people. It looked crazy. I sat down and they told me some more information really fast, and the machine started going. I was told if a red light came on, that it meant my blood stopped flowing. They told me to raise my hand. I wasnt sure I would be alive if my blood stopped flowing.

In walked a rather attractive girl. She had a liberty shirt on. She sat down the aisle from me. We would make awkward eye contact because we had no choice. When you sit in a chair for four hours, you are bound to look at the people around you.

My plasma bottle was half full. Im so optimistic.

Plasma girl. That was her name. Almost positive.

I started seeing in quadruple vision. There were several points where I was cold and hot at the same time and I could feel the blood being pumped back into my body. My feet went numb.

After it was over, I collected my handsome reward.

I will go back Tuesday.