You Are What You Eat... You Stupid Turkey

Before any animal rights hippies start telling me turkeys aren’t stupid… you’re wrong. Turkeys are morons. My house is frequently visited by packs of turkeys, and they are dumber than Harry and Lloyd combined. I chase them away and throw tennis balls at them, and all they do is keep coming back and rubbing their asses back and forth in the sand, making little craters in the ground, which I assume is their way of saying “eat me eat me eat me!!”, so I do.

The Turkey: Nature's Dumbass.

It has come to my attention that several urgent issues have not been addressed by the campus community. Perhaps people are too afraid to talk about such sensitive subjects, but I am willing to take a stand and publicly state that they need fixing. In fact, I believe correcting these two issues is crucial to our aspirations to move up the college rankings.

Issue Numero Uno: People who put my laundry in the wrong place. If you walk into the laundry room, and there is only one load of laundry in sight (in the dryer), and only one basket in the room, and it’s sitting right in front of the dryer, put the damn clothes in the basket. Don’t put them on top of the dryer, or if you do, at least be considerate enough to wipe off the mix of dust, lint, dirt, detergent, and semen that’s probably built up there before you throw clothes on top of it.

Issue Numero Dos-o: Fast food line etiquette. Thanks to Dave for suggesting this one. Nothing is more annoying (other than the new stains on my freshly-cleaned laundry) than standing behind someone in the fast food line who knows you’re there, and after they’re done taking their sweet ass time selecting the four most perfect French fries (at a rate of approximately 17 seconds per fry)… and once they finally finish, they shut the doors and put the tongs back in the bucket. Just hand me the damn tongs before I chop your hands off and take them from you.

As great as the food is at Thanksgiving, it’s really special because it’s a family holiday, which means we get conversations like this…
Me: “Did you guys see they’re making Rocky 6?”
Dad: “No… what’s he gonna do, wheel his way into the ring?”

Drago wants to know when he gets his own spinoff.

As long as we’re talking about Thanksgiving… if all of us eat a ton on Thanksgiving, what do you think a competitive eater like Takeru Kobayashi does? I bet he takes the day off and eats a small salad.

Many people think Hell is a place full of fiery infernos and screaming souls. They’re wrong. After much research (also known as “driving through Newark”), I have figured it out. Hell is sitting in Thanksgiving day traffic with no scenery other than the crappy ass Newark skyline on the way to a packed airport full of all sorts of absurd security measures and cavity searches to catch a plane that will take you to the DMV. And on a side note, has anyone ever noticed that Newark is strangely familiar? Well, I figured that out too: every time you see some post-apocalypse movie, I’m pretty sure the crappy, destroyed, awful-looking earth is just a cameraman walking by Newark.

More fun family quotes from the Holidays: “I wonder how people from Turkey feel about this holiday. We’re eating their country.”

Louisiana Tech’s starting quarterback is named Champion… but they still suck. Which raises the question: if their quarterback was named Massive Douchebag, would they be #1 in the country?

Speaking of college football, while watching the BC-Miami game, a commercial came on for a college. My cousin pointed out that it has to be a BC commercial, because Miami easily could have found a hotter girl, and because the University of Miami isn’t a real university anyway and wouldn’t have academic commercials. Immediately following this, a Miami commercial came on, which basically consisted of 30 seconds of random flashing images of things like helicopters and buildings, ending with a hot girl (who turned out to be a celebrity alumnus) smiling and saying what a great school it was. Priceless timing.

“No Child Left Behind” my ass… didn’t anyone ever see Home Alone?

If I owned a TV network, every time Eli Manning threw one of his ridiculous lobs downfield, I’d make sure the station played the “woooOOOOOOOOOOoooo” pop fly noise from R.B.I. Baseball. And if the receiver dropped it, the “doink” error noise would play.

Even more fun holiday quotes, this time from a guy named Forrest talking about a woman named Charmin: “At least I was named after the movie came out. Was she named before or after the toilet paper?”

No animals were harmed in the making of this column.

"Le Random" is French for "Sexy"

On a note you won't be reading in the paper, I had planned on taking an hour or so to write this column Thursday after classes, but then I got hungry and went to Acropolis instead, so it was pumped out in about 20 minutes just on time to make the paper this week. Therefore, I take no responsibility if it sucks more than a 5 dollar Vietnamese prostitute standing on the street corner saying "me love you long time, me so horny!"

I can’t wait for the day that a beer company sues Wheaties for copyright infringement. This has to be happening soon, for two reasons: one, everybody sues everybody these days, and two, we all know beer is the true “Breakfast of Champions.”

The 6^th Rocky movie comes out in about a month. The Rocky Series: 6 movies, countless fight scenes, and approximately 3 blocked punches total. Seriously, other than any Rocky movie, has there ever been a less realistic sports movie that somehow isn’t ridiculed for its sports scenes? The boxing fights in Rocky are like making a football movie, but in every scene, the quarterback throws the ball 30 yards down field underhand to a receiver who catches with his elbows and hopscotches his way down the field.

Speaking of football, I noticed recently that in addition to having numbers, the referees also have a couple letters on their uniforms to let us know their specific role. For example, the head referee has an R. That being said, I think the NFL should mandate that all Back Judges be number 69, just so I can giggle like the mature adult that I am every time I see BJ 69 call an unnecessary roughness penalty.

On a related note, the government should officially rename the city of Chicago to “Da”, just so we can officially have a team called Da Bears.

Just change that C to a D, and we're all set. It could also stand for Ditka.

If you hate reading, Borders is more like Boreders.

While washing my hands in the bathroom recently next to a girl who brought her own soap, I couldn’t help but wonder why. Isn’t the primary purpose of soap to get your hands clean? And if so, since the dirt ends up on your skin (as opposed to the inside of your hands), isn’t the school’s corrosive and abrasive soap that basically rips off the top layer of your skin the most effective way to get clean hands, since the dirt comes off with it?

It’s only been a week and a half, but we can already see the massive changes the country is making due to Democrats taking over Congress. For example, just two weeks ago, my room was full of red solo cups from the night before… but as I glance around right now at the mess from last night that is yet to be cleaned up, all I see is plenty of blue Bud Light and Busch Light cans. And yes, I do still believe that George W. Bush should go by Busch Light.

I am sick and tired of people using the same crappy categories to get me out in Kings. For those of you who aren’t clear, good categories include types of beer, types of cereal, Crayola crayon box colors, baseball teams, cigarette brands, and Arnold Schwarzenegger movies. Bad categories include tampon brands, fashion designers, and saying “sides of a coin” when I’m the person with the 3^rd turn.

If I ruled the world, a new channel would be created, that would have the exclusive rights to Grey’s Anatomy, the O.C., America’s Next Top Model, and Project Runway. It would show nothing but these shows, all day, every day… and our campus would not receive it, making me a far happier person, since I’d never have to worry that my crappy ass semi-working remote would mess up while I was flipping channels and leave me stuck with it.

Andrew's the Name, Random's the Game

For more than three years, I’ve been thinking about how much I hate paying to do laundry. Why would I pay for something that I don’t enjoy doing? I wouldn’t walk up to a carpenter and give him 20 bucks to pound my hand with his hammer, or pay a professor 10 dollars to let me take an exam. Then I realized: I’m not paying for my laundry… I’m spending money to make sure I don’t put my ID through the washer/dryer, and have to spend another 15 bucks on a new one. I’m fairly confident that the only reason I haven’t run my ID through the laundry is because I am required to take it out of my pocket and put it in the machine to turn the damn thing on.

Watching football highlights with some friends the other night, we began to wonder… what does Chris Berman sound like when he’s having sex? Does he continue making his missed-the-tackle noises, as in “oh yes, that’s it… WOP! WOP! and he... could… go… all… the… way… JACKED UP! WOP!”

After witnessing a girl down the hall go on a drunken online shopping spree, only to wake up the next morning and realize she was down a couple hundred bucks, I’ve decided that computers should have breathalyzers that require you to be below a .08 if you’re going to purchase anything online. In fact, while we’re at it, let’s extend the breathalyzer to AIM as well, and say you have to be under a certain level to talk to any of your ex’s after one in the morning.

Every single time I’ve had a religion test this semester, I’ve had a government test the same week. Separation of church and state my ass…

I have two thoughts on Borat. First, I had really been looking forward to the release of this movie for months, and it lived up to expectations. Second, I am really not looking forward to the months that will follow, where everybody does crappy imitations of his accent as they say “nice!” 472 times a day. This could be worse than the Napoleon Dynamite “gosh!” craze, which almost caused me to go Van Gogh on myself just so I wouldn’t have to hear it anymore.

You are not this man. Please, for the sake of us all, stop trying.

In case you missed it, Kevin Federline and Britney Spears broke up this week, and just for you people out there who say things like “putting random paragraphs that aren’t related next to each other isn’t good writing, it has no flow” (also known as “playa hataz in the suburbs-that-think-they’re-the-hood), I’m going to combine the last two stories. Kevin Federline is a genius along the lines of Sacha Baron Cohen. He has everyone thinking he’s a character (sleazy trailor trash moron), but he’s been playing us all. Look at his life thus far: hang out, sleep with Britney when she was “Britney: Hottest Girl Alive”, get rich, get divorced once Britney gets trashy, and probably take a ton of money with him from it. I think he’s secretly an intellectual genius, and he’s been spending the last four years or so just messing with us.

The new Playstation 3 commercial with the crying plastic baby is creepier than Michael Jackson, spiders, Lindsay Lohan’s anorexic-crackhead look, and The Hills Have Eyes combined. Speaking of Miss Lohan, my friend Mike has created a theory that she rubbed anti-gravity cream on her skin, and it caused her to collapse on herself… as strange as it sounds, I think I might agree with him. Anyway, based solely on this commercial, I refuse to buy it anytime soon. Well, actually, the 500 dollar price tag might have something to do with it too…

If you are what you eat, why don’t we all just eat mussels all the time?

While flipping through channels the other day, I noticed Dominoes was on TV, which is strange enough in itself… but then, upon watching for a few moments, I saw something truly amazing: an instant replay of someone picking a domino out of his pile, and placing it on the board. An instant replay!! I hope some day, if there’s ever a documentary made of me, they pick random boring events like that to show instant replays of. Perhaps we could see a slow-motion replay of me making the last pull on my shoelaces to tie them, or even some of those insane and unnecessary special effects from sports shows showing me point the remote towards the TV to change the channel off of this ridiculous domino show.

I’m out like the Republicans in the House.

Global Warming: Disaster or Blessing?

Global warming this, global warming that… I’m sorry, Mr. Gore, but I just don’t understand why you keep complaining. As I walked to class on this delightfully warm afternoon, wearing pants and a t-shirt on the first day of November, I began to wonder... why is everyone so worried about global warming? We always hear the nonsensical arguments of ski-fanatics and pessimistic doomsday prophets, so I think it’s about time someone stood up for this wonderful phenomenon. With that said, I bring you five good reasons why you should be even more excited for global warming than I was when I discovered my cabbie in NYC last weekend was named Roc Joc. And believe me, I was pretty damn excited.

Global warming cancels out the dreaded nuclear winter. Terrified of a nuclear war with North Korea? Worried that your ski house’s property value is going to plummet once the whole world becomes cold enough to ski in year-round? Don’t worry… here comes your good buddy, Global “Economically Friendly” Warming, just in time to cancel out the nuclear winter!

Every day is a beach day. Ah, the beach… the soothing sunlight, the relaxing waves, the calm breeze… isn’t it just so peaceful? Personally, I prefer a beach full of bocce ball, frozen drinks, and scantily clad beach volleyball players… but whatever your fancy is, now, imagine you could go there every day of the year. We can even get rid of those pesky tiny islands of Hawaii and their pineapple arrogance, since we’ll have a much bigger and cooler (but still just as warm) island known as The American Continents, with way more beaches.

Global warming raises the public’s political awareness and increases voting. Shout-out to Chrissie for sharing this brilliant idea with me… With global warming around, we’d have far more natural disasters. Now, turn your eyes away from all the atrocious damage Katrina caused for a minute, and look at the end result: people became concerned with the way the government handled it, and decided to start paying more attention to politics to make themselves more aware so they could vote more responsibly and bring about a positive change. If this happened every week, the 12 surviving people at the end of the year would be incredibly aware of their desolate and demolished surroundings. Plus, with any luck, we’d knock out whatever buildings are responsible for all the crappy reality TV that’s on every night.

People would look more attractive. It’s a well-known fact that the world is more fun when people are wearing less clothing. Think about it… would you rather look at Jessica Alba wearing a bikini in Into the Blue, or wearing a massive fur coat in Siberia Is Cold: A Documentary on Russia’s Vast and Boring Territory?

Here at I Have ADD, we don't pass up excuses to post pictures of Jessica Alba.

We’d find all the terrorists. It’s also a known fact (or a stereotype that I’m too lazy to research and be corrected on) that terrorists all live in caves in the middle of the hot desert. But what happens once their caves get even hotter? Even the most determined fanatic can’t survive in a 394 degree cave (which, incidentally, is the same temperature as the old plex bathrooms in the summer; before going there, I’d never stood in the shower looking at the floor, wondering whether more of the water was water from the faucet or sweat dripping off me.) Basically, we’d be flushing them out of their caves like stools down the toilet. Although, as an alternative, I suppose we could always just have helicopters fly around with gigantic speakers blasting London Bridge and Sexyback… once they started echoing around the caves, they’d have no choice but to flee from their cover.

There you have it: five damn good reasons why I’m excited for global warming. Until next time, I’m Andrew Meyer, asking all of you readers: is Hillary Duff really hot, or does she look like she’s 12? Because I watched A Cinderella Story from start to finish this summer trying to figure it out, and 90 minutes later, was just as baffled as I was when I started. Feel free to write in and submit your thoughts to help me in my efforts to become unconfused (meyercolumn@gmail.com, as always.)