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(04/24/09 12:21pm)
First of all, I just want to let you know you all make me sick. I know you don't read my column every week. You never friended me on Facebook just based on my dashing good looks and snarky sasstalk - by snarky, I mean I put down people to build myself up on account of my severe self-esteem issues. You also never got offended by my columns which are always racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, classist, inane, unresearched and ... is there a word for mocking future attendants of the Special Olympics?
(04/17/09 5:27am)
I’ve never read any of the other Life columns — because when I need to go to sleep, I just ODPM — OD on some Tylenol PM — but I hear that they sometimes offer people useful advice or actually approach a normal topic of conversation in a relatable way. I just type up rando pages of the offensive musings in my diary — it’s a journal! No, it’s not, Doug, it’s a diary; accept it, you green-vested bald preteen — well, not any rando page, because my editors keep refusing to print a column made entirely of my name written over and over with my crush’s last name — you gotta write it at least a few thousand times to make sure it has the right flow obvz.But for some reason the editors keep printing these debate columns, even though they’re about questions no one is asking with answers that offend everyone. I just like to argue with myself because a) I always win and b) I’m trying to develop schizophrenia — it’s so the “in” mental disorder right now. DEBATE N0. 1: Best Spice GirlI was going to do Spice Girls versus Hanson, but I remembered that was already answered in an MTV “Celebrity Deathmatch” — they took an easy out and Marilyn Manson killed them all. I used to really like Posh, but she gets enough attention now. I was once scarred by Sporty’s armpit hair as a child. Ginger was a hussy and a betrayer and her solo albums — I own more than one — are only so-so.That knocks it down to Baby and Scary. Baby was kind of annoying at first, but upon numerous rewatches of their movie, “Spiceworld,” she’s kind of endearing. Also, she gets all the best jabs at the other Spices — and just like Sarah Silverman and me, she can get away with saying horrible things because she’s cute. I also don’t think anyone was supposed to like Scary. There was just something different about her from the other four Spice Girls — something that as a kid, I just couldn’t put my pale, white finger on. Now that I’m older, I realize it was her pierced tongue. Gross. And she’s always wagging it out in every photo! And then she dated Eddie Murphy, the man who killed humor through the mind-numbing “The Adventures of Pluto Nash” movie.Winner: Baby Spice DEBATE NO. 2: Mary Siegel versus Jason SmithSo I’m twittering, Pandora-ing, Facebooking, YouTubing and blogging in Club Clem when someone throws a flyer at me and tries to get me to sign a petition about some honor something or other. And as I blatantly turn up the volume on my iPod — to the Pussycat Doll version of “Jai Ho” obvz — I remember I was also invited to a Facebook group about this, but I like withholding my attention, so I never join this type of thing — unless I see one of the 14 cute kids I stalk hourly on Facebook has also joined it — then of course, I follow suit. But even though that was the case this time, I can’t pretend to care. Petition people are whiners. And as a whiner, I can’t support other whiners on account of they’re stealing my thunder. STEALING my thunder — they should all be kicked out.Winner: Siegel — mainly because she gave me candy during elections and everyone — especially that stranger offering me a ride in his windowless van — knows there’s nothing I won’t do for some candy. DEBATE NO. 3: Stealing versus LyingSpeaking of honor, I often like to think of my favorite way to violate the ol’ code. I don’t cheat, because English majors just write about their feelings and other made-up junk, and also I can’t copy Wikipedia because I know it’s all lies. I have personally edited most of it to be incorrect and a little xenophobic, plus I’ve added inappropriate “High School Musical” references throughout.Stealing, on the other hand, is fun and profitable. I like to steal the clothes with those ink cartridges attached, because you never know if or when it’ll explode. I’m actually wearing two right now. I’m a risk-taker.Lying is also more fun than a barrel full of monkeys. That’s a lie — I’m just trying to insult people who have barrels full of monkeys to build myself up since Santa never came through. Thanks for the EasyBake Oven, you jolly old Saint [edited for dirty rhyme]; where the flip are my monkeys!? I don’t want brownies slowly warmed by a light bulb for three hours! Anyway, lying is fun because I once told a friend that his sweater looked nice. And now whenever he wears that frumpy granny zip-up, I get to double over with cruel, internal silent laughter.Winner: I’m going to lie and say stealing. DEBATE NO. 4: Dylan Sprouse versus Cole Sprouse I know you don’t know who they are — why can’t everyone just watch the Disney Channel as much as I do? Dylan’s fat and laissez-faire. Wait, am I using that word right? I mean he looks lazy (all fat people do) and I wanna take him to a fair. Cole is the skinny, smarter (aren’t all skinny people?) one with the horrible, shrill, whiny voice. So, obviously I was going to say the winner is Cole. The day I pick a fat person is the day Raven Symone is the last person on earth. But then my editors fact-checked my column — as if there were any facts to check in this — you did see debate number three has me admitting to being a compulsive liar, right? — and they pointed out Dylan has dropped some pounds. And as someone who fought childhood obesity — I was almost in the triple digits in high school — I respect that lil’ fatty.Winner: Dylan — seriously Cole’s voice is horrrrrible.DEBATE NO. 5: Pep Pills versus AdderallSince I’m in Club Clem and I know that girl in front of me isn’t eating a blue M&M every few hours, I’ll just throw this debate out there. Jessie Spano made pep pills cool a decade ago with a little emotional breakdown and dance number — I think I’ve now mentioned that scene in at least half of my columns, so sue me. But Adderall has that classy “I didn’t just get this for $10 at CVS” vibe. Also, once a friend came up to me in the library at 3 a.m. and asked me for some Adderall — because I looked like someone who would have it, which I think is like saying I look tired all the time. And we all know that “you look tired” means “you look bad,” right?Winner: Getting 12 hours of sleep a night because I’d rather flunk out than look tired. DEBATE NO. 6: Best Disney CharacterI get that Mickey is iconic, but he’s also bland, has an annoying voice and was Walt’s first creation. Like real girls, all the girl characters are diversity-adding afterthoughts so I’m not dealing with that. Pluto lives in a doghouse like a peasant so that’s a no-go. So it’s down to Goofy and Donald. Goofy had the great “A Goofy Movie” and Donald has that hot mess sailor-shirt-but-no-pants outfit going for him — I’m still trying to make that outfit socially acceptable.He also was kinda good in “DuckTales” — the best Disney cartoon — psych, I’m a compulsive liar (see debate numba three), the best was “Adventure of the GummiBears” — but “DuckTales” was pretty good, too. I never understood where Huey, Dewey and Louie came from though. If Donald was their “uncle,” where the flip are mom and dad? I always figured it was one of those awkward situations where Donald knocked up some teenage duck, but he wasn’t ready to raise them so he gave them to rich ol’ Scrooge. And that’s classy.Winner: Donald DEBATE NO. 7: Disneyland versus Disney World If you don’t even know there’s a difference then you just need to put down this column right now, because I can’t even deal with you. Anymickey, Disney World is big and has all the extra park fun — that lame zoo, educational bore-city Epcot, Hollywood Studios and of course the Disneyland-knockoff Magic Kingdom. Disneyland skips the zoo and crams the edutainment of Epcot and the non-animated movie frivolity together into California Adventure. Both places let you see overweight American stereotypes stomp around wearing the Mickey shirts they just bought, white socks and flip flops, and omg omg fannypacks while gasping for breath between bites of their churros and turkey legs.Disney World is bigger, but Disneyland is more magical — example: the lamp in the window of the apartment above the Main Street Fire Station because that apartment was once where Walt and his family’s lived. And just because Disney World has more rides doesn’t mean it has better ones — it doesn’t have Indiana Jones or the lame yeti-coaster of Matterhorn! But really my favorite ride is the Haunted Mansion — I want to constantly ride around in a “doom buggy,” and I know all the words to that ghost jam, but there’s a key difference! In Disneyland, when you’re in the first room and the walls stretch to reveal scary pictures, the floor sinks, but in Disney World the floor stays, but the roof rises! Deception!Winner: Disneyland and not just because every Facebook picture I have is from there. DEBATE NO. 8: Stabbing You versus Stabbing MyselfThese are the two options that enter my head every time you either say “FML” or put it on your g-chat status, Facebook status or twitter update. I’m all for an overused cliché — I am one — but I can’t take it anymore and don’t wanna hear it.Winner: I’m too pretty to die, so yeah, FYL.Steve’s column runs weekly Fridays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(04/10/09 5:30am)
With a column title like that, you probably think I’m going to talk about that ego-craycray sunglass-mannequin Kanye West. Well, I don’t care if he screams that he’s the VOICE OF THIS GENERATION in all caps on his blog every other day — he’s not. He can be my American boy but not the voice of my generation.Does Kanye deal with the pressures of fitting in at school? Does he address the socioeconomic struggles of upper-middle class teenagers? Can he even fathom the perennial query of should I play basketball or — gee willickers — should I sing?“High School Musical” 1, 2 and obvz 3, however, aren’t afraid to face these seemingly insurmountable problems. Everyone knows that together, they coalesce to create the world’s greatest theatrical trilogy of all time — “Star Wars”? Nerdy. “The Godfather”? You know there was a third one, right? “The Land Before Time”? Puhlease, that series didn’t even get good until XI: “Invasion of the Tinysauruses.” But HSM1-3 doesn’t stop at being the only movies worth anyone’s time. In fact, I will argue, Zac Efron and Co. are the voices of our generation.You might point out that I was in college when HSM1 graced the Disney Channel, so what could it tell me about my life except that I’m an old creeper inappropriately watching young television programming? Answer: everything! “We’re All in This Together” HSM1 has a lot of preliminary lessons. First of all, at a public high school in Albuquerque, N.M., there can only be one Latina — and she just transferred in! But hey, there are two black kids — and I’m pretty sure Jason was meant to be mentally disabled — so Mickey will flip if you throw that “prejudice” word around.You HSM newbs might think the moral of this entry-level DCOM — Disney Channel Original Movie, I should not have to explain that accro to you geez — was to follow your heart wherever it leads you as long as you’re being led there in stylin’ Claire’s accessories. And maybe if you were Jason — I’m serious, watch HSM1 and HSM3 (he only has one line in HSM2) — I could understand if you missed the real message even though they screamed it via song again and again.The message: stick to the status quo, or fail. When that pothead — I believe the movie described his unwashed, red-eyed posse as “skater kids” but c’mon, I went to public school, I know what they were — started playing the cello, I wept a little. His friends need to crush his dreams now and put him in his place! There are smoke detectors in the Carnegie Hall bathroom — he has no future going down that road! You might want to point out that Troy and Gabriella followed their dreams and turned out fine. But that’s different ‘cause they’re attractive.And with the communism-propaganda show-ender “We’re All in This Together,” the message is that you better accept your place in society, because if one cog of the proletariat machine acts up, well it’s the Soviet Union all over again. Best quote in HSM1: “Maybe we’re being ‘Punk’d.’ Maybe we’ll get to meet Ashton!” — RyanBest song: “Bop to the Top” “All For One”Oh, fickle little Efron. While HSM1 showed us the wonders of working for the common good in a classless, stateless political system where everyone gets their voice in the songs, the second little Efron gets his real voice in the movie — trivia time! HSM1 was written for Troy as a tenor, but Efron is a baritone so they altered his in the first then let it pop up in the sequels — the real diva comes out. And that diva, my friend, is capitalism.At first, HSM2 might just seem a silly excuse to rehash the same characters in pretty much the same plot but hey, look kids, it’s at a country club so the preteens are in bathing suits this time — if I was the only one who saw the Kevin Bacon lecherous “Wild Things” allusions in Troy and Gabriella’s late-night pool smoochfest, then you guys need to buy a clue! But like most of the things I assume you’re thinking, this too is stupid stupid stupid. HSM2 is obviously a brutal critique of America and its capitalist pigs.Troy’s dad explains that “the team is now ... but everyone has their own future” to his son. The pretty blatant subtext: abandon your comrades and it’s time to look out for number one! Even Gabriella goes her “own way” — straight to the mother’s shoddy American-made gasoline-wasting minivan.Even relatable, pink-clad Sharpay, also known as the girl with “more moves than an octopus in a wrestling match,” isn’t immune to the vicious class system when she questions fake-tanned Troy, “Do you want us to lose the Star Dazzle Award to a bunch of DISHWASHERS!?” [Emphasis in the original]. Now, I don’t blame those illegal immigrant dishwashers. It’s not their fault the vicious capitalist cycle has tainted them with greed so that they can’t be satisfied washing dishes at Applebee’s, but they also want to steal my Star Dazzle Award!Things reach a sinful low with Mr. Efron’s descent into the black abyss of gambling with his musical mockery “Bet on It.” Maybe his skinny jeans and slim-fit polo were too tight, so he just went crazy. But no, comrade, I think it was his reckless pursuit for the almighty dollar — “for 40 bucks, I’d caddy for Godzilla!” — that’s just a hop, skip and a jump away from a prostitute’s reasoning, Mr. Efron.Speaking of a hop, skip and a jump, in case you forgot “Bet on It” and thus the seriousness of the situation, here’s a brief play-by-play: running on AstroTurf, triumphant twirls, stomping, Michael Jackson-esque moonwalking, jazz hands, fist pumps, bunny hops through the desert brush, throwing sand, hair swishes, some golfing — it is on a golf course so hey, why not? — a horrifying reflection in the water, falsetto, moaning, splash!, West Side Story-esque threatening snaps, running and twirling and hopping into the forest, and finally freeze-framing on the rocks. It’s a hot mess in the truest sense of the words. While the first movie ended with togetherness and fun, the sequel ends with status quo overthrows — Sharpay’s closet-case choreographer brother snags the Star Dazzle Award!? — and a song all about selfishness, “All for One,” which is only acceptable because it’s all for an attractive, but overly-tanned Zac Efron — seriously, the boy is orange this entire movie. Best quote in HSM2: “Her mom makes the best brownies” — Ryan, followed by “I know. I’ve had them.” — TroyBest song: “Humuhumunukunukuapua’a” (DVD or album only) “I Want It All” The theatrically-released threequel took everything that was great in the first two and made it more expensive, more bedazzled and bigger — all things that are 90 percent of the time great improvements.There was only one problem with this, though: everyone’s — by everyone, I mean everyone that controls the content of this column, meeee — favorite character, Sharpay, gets totes screwed over. In a movie all about dreaming big and nice clothes, why must the best-dressed social climber end up with a fate worse than death!? A public university in her home state!? If that happened to me I would just...Most importantly, HSM3 reminded us all that we’re getting old, and younger skinnier kids with swishier hair are right behind us ready to steal our game-winning points and gym lockers — I hate all those new characters. Don’t even get me started on that Sharpay-wannabe Brit — she cannot sing. HSM4 — you did know they already announced the fourquel right? — is going to be cancer for the eyes and ears. But none of the legit six — the bottom two might have cameos and I’m not going to identify them because that’s racist but come on, those two don’t have non-HSM careers so what else are they going to do? — are coming back, so HSM4 will get some new preteens and craft the voice for the next generation. Best quote in HSM3: “If you own any orange get rid of it.” — Sharpay (our school colors are half horrible!)Best song: “Now or Never” because that part where Gabriella appears from the crowd is real emotional.Steve’s column runs weekly Fridays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(04/03/09 5:11am)
I wasn’t loved enough as a child, so I need a lot of attention. But sometimes writing columns that are 2,000 words long once a week just isn’t enough. [Editor’s Note: Steve not only cried to be this semester’s only weekly columnist, but when we try to cut his rants down to the normal 1,000 words, he makes fun of our clothes.] So like a new media-savvy egotist, I need a way to let everyone know my every thought and action at all times. No, I don’t update my Facebook status like an early ‘00s wannabe, but I tweet! Or twit, or twat, I don’t know ... I use Twitter.Remember that Facebook fiasco a few weeks ago when Zuckerberg went craycray with our News Feeds? That was ol’ Marky Mark trying to make Facebook more Twitter-y — after he tried to buy it for half a bil and got his friend request denied!Twitter has all the class that Facebook once had back when it was a classicist socioeconomic divider that kept privileged college students separate from the uneducated hobos. Just kidding, hobos don’t Facebook. I am friends with a few elementary school-dropout prison inmates. They get computer lab time in between workout sessions and shiv fights.Plus while Facebook has the fun shenanigans of denying friendship requests and mocking people’s posts via secretive messages — we all know Facebook messages are meant exclusively for the most ruthless of slander or the most drunken of love confessions — Twitter offers cruel fun, too! For instance, when someone follows you — Twitter doesn’t pretend to bring “friends” together; we all just want to follow/stalk each other — you have the option of following them back, or not — which I think is a nice way of saying, “I can understand that you want to know what I’m up to, because I’m interesting and fun and going places, but no, I don’t want to hear about what movie you’re watching by yourself tonight, so I’m not following you.” Yay, one-sided friendships!“But Steve, what can Twitter do that Facebook can’t?” Oh wait ... Nothing. Plus, Facebook also lets me post scandalous background check-ruining photos of you doing horrible things, and it lets me memorize your favorite shows to subtly bring them up in casual conversation, as in, “What do you mean you don’t understand that dirty Katie Couric reference? Facebook told me you love “Dawson’s Creek,” so I memorized all the obscene sexual lines — seriously Google Katie Couric and “Dawson’s Creek.”Speaking of celebs, that’s where Twitter shines ... Or becomes a horrible cesspool of me begging them to shut the tweet up! So on Facebook, you can friend a few celebrities, but only a few undesirables actually accept — obvi I have Heidi and Brody from “The Hills” and that fatty future Special Olympic athlete from “The Paper”... Hey, if Obama can say it, I can, too. But on Twitter, famous people actually post their random thoughts! Well, that’s debatable, because we all know Britney doesn’t know how to operate the Internet, but her PR person can handle it.OK, I’m sick of explaining this stuff to you, you Web 2.0 pleb. Here’s my typical Twitter page, with the most recent wastes of time at the top! Oh, and if you follow any of the same celebs, you know I am not exaggerating these freaks:Snarky Kid Always on Twitter: @Boring College Girl yes, you’re a cliché, FYL! Boring College Girl: OMG the 2-for-1 Arch’s deal is cancelled!? FML! Wait, is FML getting too cliché? Downer 20-Something Gen X’er Who Spends His Life on Gawker: Look at this link to this story! It proves I knew something before you! I’m the best! Heidi Montag: @Spencer Pratt Luvz you. Ah, traffic is bad, gonna be so late. Thank Jesus I can tweet from my Blackberry! Michael Ian Black: Overcast and rainy. Perfect day for cutting! Perez Hilton: Look at me! Zac Efron sent me champagne for my birthday! Boring College Girl: Tehehe, how do I still have this cough? I can’t believe I’m doing so bad this semester. FML FML FML ... See you at The Virginian tonight! Spencer Pratt: @Heidi Montag, you’re gonna be a star! Luvz you! Boring College Boy: Look at this sweet music video. You can’t tell if I like it ironically or not, so even if you hate it, you might still think I’m cool! The Cavalier Daily: We’re desperately trying to avoid becoming obsolete, please read our articles! Here are 20 links! Boring College Girl: Who the eff is screaming in such a shrill voice in the Scholars’ Lab about his wardrobe? I have so many tests to study for! FML! Diddy: Ah, I have a million followers. It’s so validating to me that you guys took the all the time and effort to click “follow.” Don’t forget to drink Ciroc! Downer: This just in, print media is dying an agonizing death. Yay new media! Yay Twitter! Heidi Montag: Gonna go to the studio to lay down some more tracks! So excited for you guys to hear the new album! I’ll just ignore the fact that all my “accidentally” released songs have been universally ridiculed! Stevenaustin: @Allison Two days in a row!? False, I have a system! I see you on the other side of the Scholars’ Lab you two-faced ...Boring College Boy: wamp wamp Bojangles Too Cool for School Recent Grad: I’m not here to Tweet, just to stalk you. Diddy: A new episode of Diddy TV getting posted soon because I need you guys to read my posts and watch my vids and maybe we can ignore the fact all my bands fail. Allison: @Stevenaustin Just saw Steve. He tried to make me read his stoopid column. And didn’t he wear that shirt yesterday? Boring College Crackhead: The meth lab in GrandMarc got busted? Txt me if you know of a backup plan. Stevenaustin: I’m so funny! Read all my columns. You can find the link here, here, or here or just txt me and I’ll e-mail them to you or read them to you through the phone no prob!Steve’s column runs weekly Fridays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(03/27/09 6:06am)
SpringFest is tomorrow? Really? Because the last time I checked, I was still wearing my winter wear — fuzzy hats that look like animals, fratastic fleece vests and argyle socks that compulsively match the rest of my outfit. I wish Al Gore would concentrate on inventing the Internet some more and spend less time spreading honor code violations about global warming. I’m so sick of freezing my nips off that I’ve been driving my Hummer around more than — I was going to make an inappropriate reference to Natasha Richardson here, but I have a feeling some of you would complain it’s too soon. Too soon? False; Liam Neeson’s real wife died like six years ago. I saw him at the funeral! Remember? Because then he had to raise the stepson all by himself and help him woo that sassy preteen girl singer who stole Mariah Carey’s “All I Want” Christmas song ... which sounds like the plot of a silly movie, because no one loves stepchildren. Another “Cinderella Story” taught us — and Hilary Duff — where stepchildren whose biological parents die belong: vacuuming my floors because my Roomba that I bought with your inheritance broke. When the robot revolution comes, I hope those murderous robots are as easy to break as Roombas.Anyway, speaking of Hilary Duff, why are all the celeb zines blabbing about Natasha anyway instead of more stories about Hilary? When’s Hil’s next album coming out? When’s Hil getting back with her uglier sis Haylie for more teen sister Disney song covers? Aly & AJ totally stole their thunder, and no one seems to care! That’s the real story! Not this ski death business! Natasha’s not even famous! Sure, she was the mom in Lindsay Lohan’s Parent Trap in the 1990s, but no one likes a one-hit wonder.Speaking of talentless one-hit wonders, Sarah Bariles is playing at SpringFest. I know lots of people who are excited about Sarah Burellis — she’s not famous enough for me to bother spelling her name correctly — for some unfathomable reason or another. Even the second-place “American Idol” loser David Archuleta says she’s his favorite singer. And that’s why I voted for the other David. Mother — not mine, but the bunny mother from “Bambi” — always said if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. I would, however, point out that limiting my freedom of speech is an oppressive act of terrorism against the First Amendment and thus hardly can be considered nice, so didn’t she just prove her own totalitarian command hypocritical and thus invalid?But we’ll pretend the bunny knew her stuff, and I just won’t say anything at all about that whiny obnoxious Mandy Moore-wannabe Saruh Bariles. I definitely won’t point out that whenever she comes up on my Miley Cyrus Pandora station, I scream the shrill death-squeal of a young Jennifer Love Hewitt in those “I Know What You Did Last Summer” movies before trampling my stuffed animals in a hurry to SKIP IT! Seriously, she has the talent of a Pussycat Doll — not Nicole Scherzinger, the one that does all the singing — but the talent of one of the other four glorified backup dancers.Lots of morons say the free concert is the only reason to go to SpringFest, but I’m not afraid to call out a moron. Just like I’m not afraid to call out someone who wears Crocs for being rubber shoe-wearing trailer trash. There are tons of other fun things to do at Nameless ... if you’re like me.And by that, I really mean being ruthlessly and inappropriately competitive about things that everyone realizes are so mindnumbingly shallow and unimportant, that I can always win just because you don’t try. I used to be a winner because I had more Wall posts than you — I even had the Facebook application that kept track of all your friends’ Wall post counts so I KNOW I was beating everyone — but ever since Zuckerberg eff’ed me over and hid the count, I need new competitions ... And SpringFest is filled with them.There are the obvious competitions — like seeing who can cram as many animal byproduct-covered animal parts in their mouth in the Gusburger eat-off or ruining Ben & Jerry’s for yourself by shoveling it out of a bucket, or racing around in an obstacle course or trying to unhook your friend’s harness on the inflatable rock climbing wall — it was all in good fun, Jimmy! Then there are the less obvious competitions, like seeing who can abuse the free food the most. Remember, it’s not volume, but caloric content. Compress that cotton candy before cramming it in your cargo pockets — and note that the only time cargo shorts are acceptable is when you’re stealing stuff. And like with any social event, there’s also the competition in which you and your SpringFest pals see who knows more people. And this brings me to the most important of all competitions ... the Facebook photos.As one of the top-five spring semester events — the other top events being that cupid holiday, that leprechaun holiday, graduation and last day of classes — SpringFest is a prime time for all your friends — well the girls, anyway — to bring their digital cameras and make a Facebook album. Maybe they’ll even add a few rando photos from their poorly-attended birthday party where all they did was photograph each other standing around with their two friends and two roommates — who were trying to do homework but got hassled into coming to the “party” because the 30 people who said “maybe” on the Facebook event shockingly didn’t show.Anyway the photo competition is pretty complicated, so you may need to take notes. Obviously you want tons of photos of you because you’re an attention whore who validates yourself with your digital fingerprint on a fumbling social media site — the future is Twitter, suckas! The primary goal is to get a new profile picture. You want to have someone cool in your photo, but not cooler — and definitely not cuter — though they usually go hand in hand — than you. You also need to be doing something fun — like unhooking a friend’s safety harness on a rock climb — or having something hilarious going on in the background — like a talentless singer desperately crooning to a crowd of less than five people. I swear to Zac Efron, if I see you at SpringFest singing along to that horrid “Love Song” that everyone learned the chorus to a year ago, I may or may not punch you in the jugular. Please note I only added that “may not” for legal reasons because I’m not allowed to make physical threats of violence in my columns anymore. And I can’t go back to jail.Now if you’ve got real SpringFest skillz, you might even try to get the photo Holy Grail of a picture with Buzzy. For the uninformed, Buzzy the Bee was once the University Programs Council mascot who made students of all ages and criminal histories giggle with pun-tastic glee as he fluttered about making events buzzworthy and stabbing boredom to death with his stinger. But now the UPC bourgeoisie is suffocating U.Va.’s second favorite mascot — first place mascot obviously goes to Matt Schrimpboat’s official University dog Noble Cozart — and poor Buzzy might not even make a SpringFest appearance ... which is a shame, because I wanted him to attack that poser Sahra Barelez. Mandy Moore for SpringFest 2010!Steve’s column runs weekly Fridays. He can be reached a s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(03/20/09 6:10am)
So some fussy lil’ girl got in my cute face last week and dared — she dared! — to suggest that I have no credentials to be writing an advice column. This is ironic because if she had asked me for some advice, one nugget of wisdom that I would’ve bestowed upon her would’ve been to shut her yapper before she sasses someone with a weekly column. A weekly column which I’m not afraid to use when pulling a Blair Waldorf — ruining my enemies with scandalous gossip!On an unrelated note, Ayisha’s boyfriend dumped her so he could wait for his dream girl. Only three years till Miley is legal!But many of you might be asking, where does this super socially savvy kid get his vast amounts of knowledge? Certainly not from actual experience, because I hate people, leave my G-chat on invisible at all times and always answer every phone call with, “You’re wastin’ my minutes!” before hanging up. Anyway, the answer is television. Everything I need to know I learned from television. Some people, they learned everything they need during kindergarten, but I went to public school. The only thing I learned in kindergarten was how to make a shiv out of Legos and how to nap with one eye open. Anyway, come, my merry companion, and let’s frolic through some educational programming and the lessons learned.1. “Saved by the Bell”There was once an overachieving girl named Jessie Spano. Jessie had a lot of pressures: Jessie had to get into Stanford, Jessie had to perform with Kelly and Lisa at the Max, Jessie had to keep her pants waistline 15 inches above her waist — oh 1990s fashion, you were Lisa’s forte, not Jessie’s. Then you might suggest, “And then she developed that pep pill problem, right Steve?” False, junior!Pep pills always make for a hilarious, thin — added bonus! They’re appetite suppressants! — good time. No, no, my ignorant reader. Pep pills were the solution. The problem was the whole subplot of Kelly, Lisa and Jessie doing a music video to The Pointer Sisters! Do you even remember that hot mess? Neon spandex, mirror walls everywhere and terrible karaoke-style singing. Poor Jessie, at least she got to be in “Showgirls.”Sure, the liberal media paints this episode as a PSA against pep pills, but sleep is for the weak! If Jessie hadn’t been peer pressured into karaoke, she never would have had that “I’m so excited I’m so excited I’m so scared” breakdown. That was karaoke-fueled insanity, not over-the-counter drug-fueled insanity! Lesson learned: Karaoke is the devil’s iTunes playlist.2. “Doug”Lots of people think “Doug” had one of those will-they-or-won’t-they first-season-of-The-Office’s-Jim-and-Pam-type deals with Doug Funnie and Patti Mayonnaise, but you’re just a silly rookie. I spent a lot of time with 1990s Nickelodeon — heck, I even liked Disney’s update on ABC, “One Saturday Morning” — where, it should be noted, Patti also had a pep pill problem — so I know that Patti and Doug actually went on a date.Or was it a date? It all started when she awkwardly asked him to the movies, then he suggested what other friends to invite and she said it could just be them. Then there was the drama of holding hands, paying for her movie ticket, blah blah blah. Long story short, they almost kissed but never defined the relationship. Doug taught me to define the relationship pronto, and if you read my Valentine’s Day love advice column, you know I seriously stole every piece of advice from this 11-minute cartoon. Lesson learned: If you’re expecting first base, better DTR.3. “Friends”I mean there are like 300 episodes — I better have learned something from that show. For instance, I learned that people get desperate and make mistakes, sexual mistakes, at weddings. I mean, come on, Monica was way too good for Chandler.One episode that had a lot of lessons was the one with the trivia — technically titled “The One with the Embryos.” But I don’t care about that borefest subplot fabricated to cover up Kudrow’s real-life pregnancy, so we’re talking about trivia here.You could say the lesson was that men are better than women, because Chandler and Joey won. I won’t say that; I’ll just point out that men are smarter than women, and I have standardized test scores statistics to support that. The real lesson to learn is to gossip about all your friends like there’s no tomorrow. If Monica and Rachel had done their womanly duty better and knew all the horrible secrets of their male rivals, then they would’ve known such gems as Chandler’s fear of Lord of the Dance Michael Flatley and his flailing legs — and won the game.Lesson learned: Know all your friends’ secrets and tell everyone on a case-by-case basis.4. “Even Stevens”The one good thing Disney Channel ever had going for it was this show. Maybe “Lizzie McGuire” was OK, and “Phil of the Future” was fine, but only because the star of the latter, Ricky Ullman, became a YouTube celeb later with a bunch of foul-mouthed rap videos, and I like watching him back when he acted half his age for Disney dollars.Anyway, “Even Stevens” was swell, but it really hit its stride when it copied “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” — I swear I’m not emo, I’m just very (pop) cultural — and made a musical episode. Sure, none of them could sing — except Ren aka Christy Carlson Romano who later played Belle on Broadway — and they just hired random extras to do the hard dancing, but it taught us, and more importantly, Disney, a very important lesson: Musicals in high schools are a good idea. Four years later... “High School Musical.” Also Ren’s song “We Went To The Moon In 1969” taught me a little bit of history, against my will. Lesson learned: “High School Musical” 1, 2 and 3 are the three best movies ever.5. “Boy Meets World”Feeny taught me so much, even if he did once go against the Geneva Detention Convention when he locked the kids in the room for detention. Anyway, remember that episode with Jennifer Love Hewitt cleverly playing Jennifer Love Fefferman — she was sleeping with Eric in real life at the time — when the school was turned into “Dr. Feeny’s House of Horrors”?Well, it was a precious pastiche of self-aware horror movies with hilarious murders — stabbed with pencils and scissors, crushed under books in the library, a robed murderer — I’ve tried to kill people while wearing a robe and it’s not easy, pal — and of course, learning how far all the “Boy Meets World” characters have gone in the sack. As Shawn reveals, only virgins survive horror movies. Corey thanks Topanga for saving them. Eric says he’s dead. And Shawn will “get as sick as you can without actually dying.” And am I the only one who cried when Feeny died? But then got grossed out because you realized that means he wasn’t a virgin? Ew! He’s old! Lesson learned: Have sex and die.Steve’s column runs weekly Fridays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(03/13/09 5:39am)
I’m done with this place. I’m sick of having to cancel my own classes to watch “Summer Heights High”* on YouTube all day long. I’m sick of days that aren’t Monday because that’s the day I get two Archers for the price of one — I’m a tubby, hollerrr! I’m especially sick of no one reading my column except dorks who pick up a paper to read while eating in O’Hill at 10 a.m. because all their friends have lives and were out drinking and not being boring and are now where you should be — sleeping off their hangovers and trying to fight off the encroaching déjà brew when they realize what Natty made them do. I’m talking to you, you in the blue shirt, scarfing down your waffle! I’m sick of you!Anyway, I just thank Zac Efron I’m outta here in two months. With Obama taking his sweet time fixing the economy and personally handing me a job, the cool thing isn’t to talk about your post-grad career (since it doesn’t exist), but to talk about where you’re moving — or at least from what street corner you’re going to inform people the world is ending, while also asking for gin money. PSA: “High School Musical 4” is being made without Zac Efron, so the world might as well end.OK, maybe it’s just the fall of western civilization, but I’ve been blaming that on Hannah Montana for years — though my Miley Cyrus Pandora station is ballin’. Anyway, as a new dark age begins, where should you huddle and wait to die from the encroaching plagues? OMG, you’re so cute for asking! I could just jab out my eyes.The obvious and horrible suggestion is to stay in Charlottesville. You probably already have an apartment — I told you, you flabby omelette-munchin’ first-year, to stop reading my column! Why don’t you just read that Watchmen comic we all know is hidden in your JanSport, and yeah, I said comic because I’m not going to make the dead guy that gave us Charlie Brown and that questionably sexually-oriented Peppermint Patty roll over in his grave by calling those miserable emo drawings a graphic novel. People that live on Grounds should be hauled out of their halls and made to watch “Two and a Half Men” until they’re ready to transfer to VCU, so why not just stay in your apartment for another year while you work part-time discovering yourself?News flash: You’re on the path to epic fail if you’re trying to become a townie and discover yourself by discovering first-years at Three. Also, how can you live somewhere there’s only yellular service. I don’t even want to get in how many times Verizon made me accidentally yell out in public such private tidbits as “Nick Jonas just brings up his diabetes to sell records!” or “My friend just got Wow Cow with Magic Shell — I don’t think this idiot knows it’s not 10 calories per ounce when you top it with fatty fattiness,” or my fave convo-ender, “You wastin’ my minutes!” Well, Cville may be out of the question, but if only there was a major metropolitan center nearby ... like Richmond! Maybe if you’re a nasty li’l hillbilly — not the same Hills as my fave hillbillies Spencer and Heidi — Richmond is a city, but unless you want to sell the ol’ whacky tobacky like that not-famous guy in that movie with Seth Cohen (Instant debate! Seth Cohen v. Ryan Atwood! Winner: Ryan Atwood. Loser: Marta Cook for not telling me when Ryan/Ben was visiting on the Lawn last fall. I will never get over this, Marta! Neverrrrrr!), there’s no reason to head to this dismal cesspool. Unless you like the ‘burbs and want to see my house, where I shop for scented candles — Downtown Short Pump, holler hey! — or the Chipotle where I eat. Now I’m not saying people who eat at Chipotle are better than the people who eat at Qdoba. I’m just saying people who eat at Chipotle are better quality people than the people who eat at Qdoba. Ironically, though, the people that work at Qdoba are much cuter — but never text me back — than the ones that work at Chipotle.Los Angeles is a much better metropolitan center, even if it’s on the other side of the country. L.A. has all the best things. Jennifer Love Hewitt, Hilary Duff and Miley Cyrus all live on the same street! No, but fine, why don’t you just go to N.Y.C. or D.C. where Hobo Jim, pile of human refuse, and pile of crack needles all live on the same street. Go ahead, I’m not stopping you. While D.C. doesn’t have quite the hobo population, you do have to deal with molestin’ senators and if you intern like all the other overachieving archies, you’ll probably go missing and be found cut up like a paper snowflake in a van down by the river.Boston is the cleaner version of N.Y.C. While it doesn’t have an acronym, it also doesn’t have the rotting stench of dead backup dancers and dead dreams and Donald Trump’s hair cream. It’s also colder, but I’ll make that a positive and call it brisk — the kind of brisk that keeps nipples perky from October till March.Whew, that was uncharacteristically harsh of me — usually I’m a bottle of funshine and pixie dust and friendship — but I think all places with acronyms for names are awesome except ATL, and I don’t even know why we let Hotlanta try to jump on the acronym bandwagon. They already jumped on the Real Housewives bandwagon — shout-out to the world’s best housewife NeNe! OK, I’ve never seen the show, but Anderson Cooper loves NeNe, and just like cashmere cardigans, I like everything he likes — except his show. I don’t like his show because CNN is for the liberal media. I watch Fox News instead, because we both hold ourselves to the same rigorous standards of journalism. *I like to name drop trendy premium cable shows, but let’s be honest — all I watch is “The Suite Life of Zack & Cody.”Steve’s column runs weekly Fridays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(02/27/09 6:52am)
So the Dec’s Lawn-mocking list should be out by now — but they’re all a bunch of dirty, lazy hippies so don’t hold your breath ... Unless there’s a Dec kid nearby, then hold your breath because yuck, the stench of poor hygiene and failure — and that means I can finally see who got the Lawn instead of me! I mean, I did everything right! I turned in my application only a day late. Wait, I’m a fourth-year? It was a day and a year late!That’s okay, I enjoyed my fourth year spent in Gooch. Runk’s delicious! Plus, I can copy and paste my Lawn app here and call it my column for the week. Once you see how qualified I am, you’ll have no choice but to vote me into the “Good Guy” room despite my public penchant for puppy pummeling and other atrocious alliterations. Question 1: What are your University achievements? I’m not the normal jackass of all trades that does all the BS of Honor, UJC and UGS. Especially not Honor; those tools can’t even afford an acronym. I don’t do UJC because even the kids on UJC don’t do UJC — what’s there to do anyway? It’s just the Honor for compulsive liars and kleptos. And I definitely don’t do UGS — you’re an unpaid salesman, know your place!Anyhoo, I was gonna create my own CIO where all I do is give out T-shirts, text messages and monthly e-mails about not putting your fingers in electrical outlets, but they told me that was already started. Instead I decided to make a group about global development and other junk because someone told me they eat that stuff up on Lawn applications — er, I mean, Law School applications — er, I mean, I love TJ.That’s how I decided to create Hoo’s a Canadaphile. It shows that I’m a born leader, also that I only like foreign countries that speak my language — English or lolcat — terrible Canadian-brand cars like the McLaughlin Fupa, universal healthcare and thus cheap drugs and playing hockey — psych, watching hockey — psych, watching hockey fights — psych, I like beating people up with hockey sticks.And I put down that I was the founding president and led my club to a whole year of maintaining its membership numbers until the summer when everyone quit all at once, and I remembered we only put on one event ... But those little squirts held a coup and made me a lame, powerless member. But not everyone on the Lawn can be a leader, right? You need some bright-eyed followers! How can you possibly hold a Lawn progressive without a few drunken followers?Question 2: How has your membership in our University community enriched this institution or student body? While I’m only technically a member of Hoo’s a Canadaphile, my dad owns three car dealerships so I’m so rich. Of course, I enrich Grounds just by sharing my presence. By sharing my presence, I mean sending you sexts and being way too typeractive when I trick you into G-chatting with me.I’m also involved with a lot of groups on Grounds, despite them forbidding me. For instance, I like to sneak into the production room of The Cav Daily around midnight and saucy-edit all the articles right before they’re published. This usually amounts to me adding the expletives helter skelter and changing the names of University officials to exotic STIs.I also support the arts by attending the cinematic masterpieces at the Carmike off-Grounds — it’ll be a cold day in heck before I see any of those twinkle town musicals at the Culbreth. And by support, I mean, I exclusively go to the double freetures — where I pay for “Twilight” but I’m sneaking into HSM3 fo free!I’m also real involved with StudCo, i.e. I take cat naps in the office and watch Katie Lee watch “30 Rock.” She doesn’t actually let me watch Tina Fey’s gigglefest with her because I just sit there and say LOL every five seconds, when that’s a dirty, dirty lie, because I’m only LQTM — laughing quietly to myself. You know whenever you type LOL, it’s an honor violation! When I get on the Lawn, I’m gonna make so many friends with Honor kids with S’mores, I can finally report your AIM chat mockeries!Question 3: How will living on the Lawn further your goals for contributing to the University and the broader community next year? Well, let’s just say I tried to hold fancy wine and S’mores parties at my old residence, but then my box on the street caught on fire! I super need a Lawn room, yo! Also I really like writing inappropriate things on Lawnies’ whiteboards — see Austin Wiles’ unfunny column about this for some trite examples of what NOT to write. But after writing biting shutdowns like “Natasha likes Robert Pattinson more than Zac Efron!” and cackling away cruelly — I mean, what blind and/or retarded person would make that choice!? — I need a place nearby to lay low. Question 4: What can you bring to the Lawn community that sets you apart from other potential residents? Besides my debilitiating aibohphobia (AH!) aka (AH! Again!) a fear of palindromes, I’m pretty normal and will probably just blend in with the other residents.And by blend in, I mean I will also have a fickle passion for random things that no one else cares about. I’ll be sure to knock on all their doors and demand they put up a poster for one of my causes of the day, which may include not voting on some referendum — my voting policy is to only vote for kids with great hair, so I just ignored that question — or attending some a cappella charity for those less cute than I am. And then there’s my favorite cause: Leave Britney Alone!Question 5: To be selected as a member of the Lawn community is not merely an honor but also a responsibility. In this context, how do you interpret responsibility? It’s accro-easy: WWJD. What would Jonas do? I think the Jonas Brothers are so responsible, and because I know practically all the words to all their songs and how many guitars each brother has collected (Nick 12, Kevin 12 and Joe a paltry five, but who has time to collect guitars when he’s so busy collecting preteen girls’ digits? Hollerrrrr), and their address in the Toluca Lake area of L.A. (I have pictures of their house on Facebook! Friend me! Desperate!), I must be responsible, too. For instance, when I hold Canadaphile meetings in my Lawn room, I’ll totally buy the maple syrup and liquor.I also think the J. Bros are super upfront and I’ll take responsibility for keepin’ the Lawn real, yo. None of this tooly “I love T.J.” crap — I wouldn’t have voted for that greasy ponytailed redhead hippie anyway. Once I get the Lawn, I’m totes transitioning from your frenemy and enemend, who are friends that secretly hate your guts and post all up on JuicyCampus about you sleeping with Dean Lymphogranuloma venereum, to a fraitor, a friend that’s betrayed or just basically an exposed frenemy. I’m not saying I’m going to be mean, I’m just going to be upfront. Example:Fellow tool: Oh hey Kap’n Kool E. Fresh*, how’s your exam schedule looking?Me: I’m working on my reality show applications. (People only ask about exams so that you’ll return the question, and I ain’t playin’ that game.)Tool: Yeah, I’m so busy, busy, busy. I’m on my third all-nighter.Me: Get more sleep. Deuces! (Here you obvi drop the deuces.)*Note: Once I get on the Lawn, I’m not going to beat around the bush anymore. I’m cooler than you are and I need a new, better name to reflect that fact.Steve’s column runs weekly Fridays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(02/20/09 6:32am)
Yay, yay one more week until the University cancels class! Finally we can ditch the academic bulimia of regurgitating answers onto Scantrons and go back to the normal kind to get ready for Beach Week, lol*.I know some of you guys are super upset that Spring Break is coming. I mean there are a lot of reasons this break is bad. There are no holidays so you can’t look forward to one of those mass unspecific Merry Textmas messages — I even got one for Thanksgiving, which we all know isn’t even a real holiday — it’s just a festive fat-packing party constructed by NAAFA (Google them — it’s pure evil and I will not publicize them by un-acronyming them).It’s also bad because that GD groundhog saw his flipping shadow so our Spring Break is an icy mockery. Luckily, I’m doing my part by driving my Hummer a lil’ more than usual to speed up global warming. And don’t gimme that “But the environment, Steve!” hippie nonsense because the one thing I’ve learned from “Lost” is that polar bears can live in Hawaii, so who needs the icebergs now, Al Gore?Any time we’re away from school is pretty bad in my book. I get super textually frustrated. Why won’t so-and-so return my text? For me, the answer always turns out to be so-and-so was off in some foreign country like North Carolina and couldn’t get reception. But for some of you, Poorna, it means when we don’t have to see you in class, we don’t have to waste our texts on you. Oh, did I say texts? Silly me, obvi I’m rich in minutes, texts and good looks. I meant my time — lol*, you’re wasting it.Speaking of losers, one good thing about breaks is you can readjust your hello list. When walking around Grounds and you pass someone, you know you have them ranked: the good ones you say hello to and the undesirables you give a pity half-smile that’s the silent way of saying “Don’t you dare talk to me, and I swear if you even think of bringing up that we should hang out, I’m gonna drop this gem of a shutdown: ‘we should do lunch sometime maybe when my schedule settles down cuz you know me I’m so busy, busy, busy and by ‘busy’ I hope you realize I’m saying more important and popular than you and furthermore subtly suggesting that you are not important or popular (lol*) and your copious amounts of free time are a direct result of your fugly neediness” — all in a half-smile. Anyway, the point is, after being away from Grounds for a week, you’ve totally got the chance to bump people down from the hello list without it seeming totes abrupt.“OMG Steve, you’re such a Debbie Downer, the only positive thing about Spring Break is getting to drop some losers?” And to any dorky UTS bustard that points that out to me with his/her it-was-funny-in-high-school “SNL” references, I a) tell them to simmer down now and b) say, no silly goose, there are tons of gr8 things about Spring Break.You can finally do something good for the world! And yep, I’m talking about ASB. Finally you can change that boring Facebook profile pic from your glamorous New Year’s Eve party and upgrade to a picture of you posing with the young and impoverished (lol*) — but still photogenic and precious! No, seriously, the only international service organization I support is Clowns without Borders (Google that, too, yo). It’s like Doctors without Borders except instead of providing life-saving healthcare or just donating the thousands they’re wasting in airfare, lol*, they provide the needy of the world with circus-themed hilarity!If you want to skip the new Facebook photos that show how caring you are and instead go right to the photos that scream ‘drinking problem,’ there’s only place to go, yo! Well, actually the only place I wanna go is Australia so I can give a kangaroo or two the ol’ Australian death grip, but that’s more a summer thing. Anywho, I thought since we all loved T.J., the cool thing would be to go to T.J. (Tijuana for you dorks that didn’t see that episode of “The O.C.” when Marissa made passing out in a T.J. alley from a tequila and pain pill overdose cool.) Now I’ve learned everyone thinks the cool Mexican hotspot is Cabo. Here’s a tip for you newbs going to Cabo. You think they went to a broke college kid all-inclusive resort when they went to Cabo in “Laguna Beach?” False. You think Jennifer Aniston celebrated her movie doing better than Angie’s movie in Cabo at that craphole you’re spending Spring Break?Another reason not to go anywhere is because here I can do tons of the things I can never do when you’re here judging me. By tons, I’m only talking about one thing. Babysitting some kid for the sole excuse of getting into Chuck E. Cheese’s, the home of whacking moles, eating pizza that tastes even more like cardboard than Domino’s and stealing kids’ tickets (lol*) to finally get that elusive pen that writes in 10 different colors — so many colors but just one pen! No, but really I’m just there for the live music scene done by a diverse band of animatronic animals — infinitely better than a diverse band of animatronic kids, aka that NSFL geography-ignorant disharmonic disaster “It’s a Small World.” Even Scar from “The Lion King” hated that song/ride.Plus with all my ample free time now that I don’t have to keep up on my current shows to stay afloat in conversations — I swear if you miss ONE episode of “Gossip Girl,” I can’t even talk to you — I can now spend my time leisurely marathoning. I may or may not have bought the full series of “Full House” and I may or may not be planning on spending 76 straight hours watching every episode in a row. I will soon be fluent in every your-mom-died-but-hey-now-you’ve-got-two-creepy-uncles-inspired group hug, every wisecrack from that mouthy Michelle, every anti-Kimmy jab (even though she is still a neon-colored fashion icon) and every compulsive cleaning scene with Danny (when we now know he should’ve been cleaning his dirty mouth instead of his Dutch oven).Other fun possible SB plans include: working (but ew, you’re poor!), doing homework (but ew, what are you, a first year!?) or spending the week with your family (it’s a good time to let them know that you’re moving in with them indefinitely after graduation because of the economy and not at all because I skip all my classes to watch hilarious late 1980’s sitcoms).*Lol theory — A legitimate sociological theory that one can embed the AIM-acro for laugh-out-loud in any sentence no matter how evil and inappropriate said sentence is and suddenly make it totes presh.Steve’s column runs weekly Fridays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(02/13/09 7:14am)
It’s almost Valentine’s Day. Here’s a question: If a lonely loser cries herself to sleep with her Build-A-Bear and cat named Professor Cuddlekins, while watching “Hairspray,” does anyone hear her? Answer: I better not! I’m trying to hear Zac Efron musically woo an undeserving fatty.As the most legitimate of holidays, Valentine’s Day can cause more stress for the ugly and awkward than when deciding what lie they’ll tell friends Monday about how they spent their Saturday nights — obvious choices are “I had a lot of homework to catch up on” or “I just hung out with the roomies” — which means they’re probably also ugly and probably spent the night eating their emotions and tipping the Domino’s delivery guy a little too much because he wasn’t that ugly and didn’t speak English that poorly.But that doesn’t have to be your fate! Just read my sage answers to these ignorant, doomed-to-die-alone romantics and learn a thing or two, yo! QUESTION 1: Dear Steve, I asked out my crush of the past semester, and now we’re going to dinner! But I’m nervous because I don’t even know her that well. What should I do to alleviate my stress?A: What? I don’t care what you do. Just text me the restaurant you guys are going to so I can go with some Pringles and watch this disaster. Ooh, I’ll keep points! One point for every awkward half-smile, two points for every overeager nod, three points for every failed conversation topic and one point for every five seconds of awkward silence. QUESTION 2: Steve! I was working on my 109 Things to Do Before You Graduate list, so I’m going on my first official date ever! I need tips, bro!A: First off, I’m not your bro. I’m not anyone’s bro — not even my sister’s — except if the Jonas Bros invited me to be a fourth, but that’s neither here nor there. Because you foolishly sent me a gender-unspecific question, now I’ve got to do twice the work and part with my sage dating advice for both the gurlz and the boiz! For all you SWAG majors, please don’t whine about me differentiating between the sexes and promoting heinous stereotypes. I’m talking about dates here, not something you’ll ever need to worry about.Dating rules for the gents:
Be as vague as possible. Are you guys friends? Friends with benefits? Prison pen pals? Student and teaching assistant? Women love an air of mystery, so if you’re thinking of defining the relationship (DTR) — don’t. Also, it’s not cheating if it’s not Facebook-official, holler!
Don’t open the door, take her coat or any of that BS. The second you hold a door open, you’ve lost all the power and have relegated yourself to a relationship of movies based on Nicholas Sparks’ novels and dinners at Salad Creations.
Definitely do not even reach for that check. Does she even know how expensive a PlayStation 3 is? Feel free to inform her. Don’t forget to mention how many video games you have, how much time you spend playing them and hey — maybe she can watch you play some time. She can’t play though — I mean, does she know how expensive extra controllers are? If she wanted to play, maybe she shouldn’t have gotten that McFlurry for dessert.
Dating rules for the ladies:
You look needy if you try to define the relationship, although we all know that’s all you want because it’s step one: DTR; and step two: he puts a ring on it. So play it cool, yo. And by “cool,” I mean passive-aggressive. Constantly introduce him as, “This is Rick, my ... Umm,” and just look at him to fill in the answer. Also make sure he knows you guys could go to that party, but you think everyone else is just bringing their boyfriend/girlfriend, so you two couldn’t possibly go ... Or could you?
When walking toward a closed door, just stop in front of it like you’ve never operated one before in your entire life until he gets it for you. You landed a man — your days of manual labor are over, sister!
The passive-aggression doesn’t stop when you DTR, gurl. When the check arrives, of course you’d be happy to pay. I mean, you might not have enough money for that pilates class and bikini wax in time for the second date, but he’s into flabby cores and hair, right?
QUESTION 3: Dear Steve, I am in love with this personal trainer at my gym. He is my age, gorgeous and totes my type. Well, I think he’s my type, but we’ve probably only exchanged a maximum of like 10 words in our whole lives. Anyway, he’s always with this other woman, and I can’t tell if she’s a client, because they are rather touchy-feely sometimes. Do you think they’re dating? Or do you think I have the grounds to say an 11th word to him?A: Even if he is dating that other girl, there’s only one thing more I need to know to decide if you have grounds to talk to him. Who’s cuter — you or her? Even if she’s cuter, gyms are dangerous places. Suppose “someone” offered to spot her while lifting, or the door handle on the sauna she was in broke off ... Accidents happen.QUESTION 4: Dear Steve, so I was watching that chick flick of the week, “He’s Just Not That Into You,” and I’m starting to think my crush isn’t that into me! I checked our Facebook wall-to-wall, and 95 percent of the posts were from me! The only ones from him were where I had logged into his profile and wrote precious things on my own wall. Anyway, how can I get my crushee to love me back?A: Normally, I think crushes and what is an obvious case of stalking are inappropriate and would never lower myself to discussing such things. But I can tell you’ve got a good head on your shoulders — good could be misleading here because I assume like all single people, you’re hideous, but you seem smart, because Facebook wall-to-walls are the hands-down best measurements of all relationships — so here are some tips to land that crush.1. Ignore everything you learned from “Sixteen Candles.” You’re not Molly Ringwald — not even now that she’s aged poorly and lost all her awkward precociousness — so you can’t just wait around with a dork and sketchy Asian for that senior to bring you a birthday cake and make-out session. Unless your crush is in the Engineering School, then ask the dork and Asian for tips, because they probably have a class or two with him.2. Remember the business model for “The Land Before Time” movies — quantity, not quality — when it comes to correspondence. Phone calls, texts (and when drunk, unsolicited sexts!) and folded-up notes in class with i’s dotted with hearts (subtlety is for cute people, remember) are just some examples. Of course, there’s also the holy Facebook trinity — wall posts, messages (it makes him feel like you’re keeping a big secret, which sends the right message that you’re not above being the secret slam piece on the side) and the coup de grace — pokes (which let him know you’re not a prude and happy to make things physical).3. Watch out for competition. If you see someone pretending to care about his “Battlestar Galactica” analysis and ‘accidentally’ touching his arm, it’s time to put that skank in her place. Unfortunately, JuicyCampus is no longer around for you to spread vicious rumors about your enemies, but there’s still the tried and true method of bathroom stall warnings: Leslie buys her clothes at the Salvation Army — no, worse, Old Navy!And if all that fails, remember, that’s what you get for having feelings. Feelings only are for the weak. QUESTION 6: Dear Steve, I’m pretty sure this boy just hit on me, and I’m not interested but I’d like to be friends. What should I do?A: Step one, get a clue. What has a friend ever bought you lately? A birthday card and a bag of candy you know was just lying on the floor? Don’t you have enough friends? It’s time to milk this boy for all he’s worth! Drinks, dinners, fine lynx coats (lynx is the new mink for all you plebs) ... You can’t take it too far. It’s socially uncouth for a man to ask for the ring back if you dump him after the engagement, so make sure he knows that a) you like diamonds, and b) his great-great-grandma’s wedding ring doesn’t fit your petite finger, because for some reason they usually — correctly — think it’s OK to ask for a family heirloom back.Steve’s column runs weekly Fridays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(02/06/09 7:47am)
I DON’T actually get this whole “parting shot” business. Isn’t that like an insult you make while leaving? Well, newsflash, I’ve got like two more months of writing prejudiced, morally-reprehensible, and pro-High School Musical columns, so this really isn’t a parting shot for me. I’m not going anywhere – just like that snarky cookie-pushing Girl Scout on my stoop who’s pretending not to know how many fewer Thin Mints they’re putting in each box this year.Oh, wait, what? This parting shot is supposed to be nice? I’m supposed to guide you on a frolicking trip down memory lane where we laugh a little, cry a little, and maybe, just maybe, learn a few life lessons together. I know what you’re thinking: “I still can’t believe Michael Phelps is a pothead.” Well, everyone’s thinking that, but more specific to this parting shot: “Omg, I don’t wanna read 800 words about this kid’s life.” But hey, simma down now, I’ll keep it brief and informative, because I live by one rule: “Never tell everything about yourself – save it for your gynecologist.”Most of the old parting shots I read (and thus am copying almost completely – plagiarism makes writing fun!), were all about how they made so many new magical friends, but the only friend I made was Goosey the goose. But I also know the rest of the ex-managing board is heartless and not that fun and are probably going to write about administrators and mockeries like student self-governance. So, yeah, sure I’ll reminisce about some friends for a hot second. Be warned, these kids are almost as socially-inept and annoying as those zitty high schoolers on MTV’s “The Paper.”The first person I met at the Cavalier Daily (technically, I met a lot of others but I thought then, and still think, they were kinda dorks so I’m skipping them) was a spunky (did I say spunky? I meant stumpy) redhead who taught me life lesson after life lesson. Some of the gems include: if you make yourself private on Facebook, you get more friend requests because people want to stalk you, it’s never a bad time to get really emotional singing along to “A Whole New World,” and oh yeah, bread ends and dip from Take-It-Away is almost as crazy delicious as Red Vines and Mr. Pibb. But there comes a time in every boy’s life when he has to realize that the dip is the least classy of all condiments – mayonnaise – so it must be forsaken.The second time I came down to the Cav Daily, I was greeted by my High School Musical soul mate. We did tons of classy, intellectual stuff like attend concerts, write poetry, and debate life’s eternal questions. Oh wait, I already gave it away by describing her as my High School Musical soul mate. What we really did was see the Backstreet Boys, stalk people with rhyming, yet threatening love sonnets, and our debates pretty much went like this:“If you could, would you live forever?”“Ew! No! Old people are the worst!”“Which Jonas Brother do you think is the best? I like Kevin.”“Ew! He’s so old!”Then there are the weirdos who I met in the Cav Daily basement, but you didn’t trust enough to hang out with except in broad daylight where I could easily escape. There was that one girl who made me sit down at a computer, log into Facebook, and accept her friend request while she watched. Then we just had to discover our mutual passion for prairie dog movies and baking, to really hit it off. Note that by baking, I mean she baked me cookies and I ate them. And that one time she baked me brownies and I threw them at her friend, because they were burnt.Of course, sometimes you might meet a creeper down in the basement and you don’t become their friend down there (even if you both joined forces to expose the mysteries of the mumps house). Heck, you don’t even really become friends outside the basement at this school. But when you’re both in California and you need someone to go to Disneyland with… omg, friendship!Of course, with the good (well, the moderately okay), there come a few bad apples. Like that one kid who liked to call himself pragmatic, but who was really just whiny. Of course, he might whine that technically I am whining about his whining so isn’t that a little hypocritical? Well, when you get super cute and get a column, then you can be a pot and call a kettle black or whatever.Then there’s the kid who talks to himself like a crazy person and sometimes tries to DTR before he DTG. Rookie mistake! And some questions can never be answered, such as the definition of awkward. Sure, maybe a dictionary (the only dictionary worth using obvi … UrbanDictionary) could tell me, but some things really need to be shown and not told. And by “shown,” I mean some people’s faces are the definition of awkward.Whoops, this trip down memory lane got kinda mean, but who cares? I’m this close to getting on “Paris Hilton: My New BFF Season Two,” so I don’t need to hang out with pasty newspaper kids anymore.
(02/06/09 7:24am)
With all these high-profile, riveting tool-offs ... Um, I mean nail-biting (Anderson Cooper why!? See Debate Number Five) University elections coming up, once again impressionable children of all ages are seeking my sage opinions. Who will I endorse in my column — arguably the best column in The Cavalier Daily (see Debate Number Two)? But I’m not one of those Life columnists who will just throw journalistic ethics to the wind (once again see Debate Number Two, in which I name some columnists with looser standards) and I will, of course, consider all the candidates on all their merits — oh, and their crushingly tragic, but oh so mockable, faults. First, though, some more pressing debates need to be resolved once and for all. DEBATE NUMBER ONE: Sasha Fierce versus BeyoncéObviously, Beyoncé will win this one, right? Listen, just because Mariah is no longer on fiah, and you need someone to fill that void in your life of an egomaniac with a wailing, high-pitched voice and questionable film career — and I’m not counting Justin Timberlake — doesn’t mean Beyoncé is that great.I mean puhlease, I wear freakum clothes 24/7 and would be crazy in love if I landed a billionaire rapper, too. Here’s one thing I wouldn’t do: Star in a threequel that made me wear a fro and knee socks with Mike Myers beating a joke to death that died halfway through the first movie. How come no one makes fun of this? She’s not Obama — we can make fun of Beyoncé! Then she did it again and starred in “Pink Panther.” Oh, don’t remember that one? I wish I could forget!Anyway, the alter ego Sasha Fierce has that dance on YouTube that everyone wishes they could do — that creepy hand/arm glove/ring, and don’t even get me started on those new “Diva” sunglasses. Kanye sunglasses are out and the Sasha Fierce sunglasses are in. Sasha Fierce for the win. DEBATE NUMBER TWO: Best Cav Daily Columnist aka me versus some wannabes This week I actually lowered myself to reading the other Life columns in this rag to, y’know, size up the competition. Things I saw included a Super Bowl column (which I wrote about a week ago) and Disney princesses (which I write about pretty much every week). Because I guess there are nooo rules for Life columnists about copying what the smarter and cuter kids do, I’ll just start copying someone, too.Unfortunately, Anderson Cooper is too busy to write a column here — probably too busy laughing like a schoolgirl at Kathy’s shenanigans, or doing whatever his real job is, or that other thing which I can’t mention again. Without any real competition, I guess I don’t have a reason to start violating the honor code like the other Life columnists or like I did when I “found” this laptop. So until A.C. abandons CNN for the CD, I have to make the following shocker of a decision: Steve wins! DEBATE NUMBER THREE: Best Jonas Bro Last time, I debated the bros versus their 1990s blonde dopplegangers, Hanson. The bros obvi won — just like they’re gonna win that Grammy! But which bro is the best? Heck, I’ll even rank them. Kevin’s the worst (I’d even rank Zac Hanson higher than this old, pudgy-faced no-talent hanger-on), then Joe (who despite having his own Disney Channel Original Movie still looks like more of an elf than even Efron), then Nick. Nick wins. DEBATE NUMBER FOUR: Best old-school Nickelodeon cartoonThis is just as topical as elections on account of SpringFest this year being Nickelodeon-themed! So I’m knocking “Aaahh!!! Real Monsters” out because if I wanted to watch people live in the dump, I’m sure there’s some TLC show about hobos. I’m also disqualifying “The Angry Beavers” because beavers are the poor man’s badger, and “Rugrats” because their voices are more annoying than a non-synthesized Kanye.So the debate is “Doug” versus “Hey Arnold!”. Helga from “Hey Arnold!” made stalking and shrines comprised of discarded food waste socially acceptable. And I’ve never wept more than the time Stoop Kid — who’s afraid to leave his stoop — finally left his stoop — to beat up another kid. It was so touching. With Patti Mayonnaise, Doug gave us the most epic will-they-or-won’t-they before that whole Pam and Jim will-they-or-won’t-they-oh-they-did-OK-this-show-got-boring thing. Plus, Doug’s dog lived in an igloo! Precious!That show, however, cursed Halloween — you know you have to be pretty sinister to curse the devil’s holiday — with lazy Doug costumes. Plus, that whole show was just a viral marketing effort by the Beet Farmers of America. Why did everyone eat beets? Why was the coolest band ever named The Beets? Listen, beet farmers, shameless propaganda cannot be tolerated! Go to Springfest! “Hey Arnold!” wins.DEBATE NUMBER FIVE: Zac Efron versus Rob Pattinson This debate was originally in my first debate column but it was twice as long as my entire column is allowed to be, so the “man” decided to cut it. If you think my columns should be allowed to be five times as long and/or daily and/or replace the entire sports page, send suggestions to editor@cavalierdaily.com.Anyway, back to the important topic of Efron vs. R-Patz. These are obviously the two biggest celebs in the world — I mean, like all preteen girls, I only saw two movies last semester: “High School Musical 3” and “Twilight.” Well, in theaters anyway. I’m sure I’m not the only one who watches “Now and Then” pretty much every night just to ponder how in the world Christina Ricci becomes Rosie O’Donnell, but that’s neither here nor there.Anyway, one of my blogs told me R-Patz got the lead in some historically-based flick, “Ohio,” instead of other crazy kids up for the role, including Efron and that not-really-that-famous guy from those genitals-in-a-package skits with Andy Samberg. Anyway, supposedly both of those rejects threw a hissy fit because “wha wha wha R-Patz isn’t even famous!”You might be thinking this is points for R-Patz. False. I throw hissy fits on the hour every hour. I’ve thrown like five writing this column already because Wikipedia — where I get all my information from — took too long to load, because the “Fraggle Rock” movie doesn’t come out until 2011, because I didn’t get any friend requests on Facebook last night, because I just read that Anderson Cooper bites his nails — this is the biggest idol downfall since it was discovered that the best drug Michael Phelps can afford is pot — and because I ran out of Aderall ... Wait, what was I talking about?Oh, right: Zac Efron gets points because we both throw hissy fits. R-Patz gets points for somehow taking “Twilight” seriously even when revealing that his dark vampire secret of why he avoids the sunlight is because his skin “sparkles.” If my skin sparkled, to get me to leave the sun, you’d have to drag me indoors and/or bribe me with a box of Dunkaroos. I did rewatch the fourth “Harry Potter” after R-Patz hit it big with the vampire-loving future cat-lady crowd, though, and this time when he died, I only laughed a little.Anyway, the point is who cares if R-Patz got cast in some historical drama? If R-Patz’s fans paid attention to history, they’d learn a lesson or two — like fat, pasty book-reading dorks with bad skin don’t have a future with “Harry Potter” or “High School Musical” alums. Their only future is tripping over a can of Chef Boyardee and then getting eaten by their 20 cats. Also, R-Patz cut off his only good feature — that unwashed, but magical forest of locks. Efron wins. DEBATE NUMBER SIX: StudCo PrezMuch like the last debate, this should be largely based on who has the best hair. Oh, and who has the better name for SchrimpBlimp-esque future nicknames. Oops, ran outta space again.Steve’s column runs weekly Fridays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(01/30/09 7:56am)
Understatement of the year: Organized sports are not my thing.Playing them is out because of that whole sweating thing. You know who sweats? The people who make my clothes — so unless you’re employed by Kathy Lee making 17 cents an hour in a sweatshop, there’s really no reason to choose to sweat.Watching sports is even worse because of that whole boring thing. Do I want to watch mildly incompetent, drug-addicted negligent fathers try to relive their childhood athletic dreams? I like my athletes where they belong — telling Tom Cruise to show them the money or running a dogfighting ring. No, I’m just kidding. I also like them writing books telling how they would have murdered their wives if they had decided their spouses needed a good murdering or two.So excuse me if when I get invited to a Super Bowl party, my first thought is: a SUPER bowl!? Better than the Arv Bröllop brand at IKEA? Those are so fancy. How much are these super bowls anyway, and most importantly, are they dishwasher-safe?Sure, sure, eventually I remembered what the Super Bowl is ... It’s what happens the day before the day you have to Google the best Super Bowl commercials so you’re not left out of the convos that day. I remember I didn’t AskJeeves that nine years ago — no Googling back then, you young whippersnappers — and was forced to spend the day being surrounded by what I had to assume were crazy people yelling “Whazzzzzzzup!” to each other. And no one ever seemed to care when I responded by informing them what was indeed up. No! They just kept asking each other! I don’t think anyone even cared that, in fact, not much was up with me!I’m sure some Super Bowl parties just watch the commercials and mute that filler mess, right? You realize you can always, absolutely always find out who’s going to win before any major game? Call Vegas and ask them the odds — look, I just saved you five hours! You’re welcome.But if you’re going to make me endure a five-hour Tostitos-filled borefest, I have two conditions. One, they better be Tostitos Scoops, because they make salsa-scooping — like the name implies — a bajillion times easier and more delicious. Two, like all boring things, we should make it more fun by gambling on it.For instance, back when I was addicted to PCP, my cellmate once bet me that I couldn’t go a day without shivving someone for a hit. Anyway, long story short, I’m now addicted to gambling. I don’t actually mean PCP — I was just trying to act cool. I was actually addicted to a much more dangerous acronym: CBB, aka collecting Beanie Babies. Sorry about that inappropro PCP reference, but I’m also addicted to lying.Anyway back to gambling for fun — and profit. Now I’m not suggesting you abuse the readily available fact of who’s going to win the big game and take your friends for all their hard-earned blue-collar monies. I’m suggesting you use betting as a way to feel more invested in the otherwise pointless winner. For example, when I bet $5 that Bella would pick Jacob instead of Edward ... Wait, that’s a bad example, because I lost $5 and 100 hours of my life reading those Harry Potter-wannabe books for fugly preteen girls who wish they were ever going to get a choice between two boys but will obviously die alone or with far too many cats.“Wait a minute, Mr. Steve! I don’t need to bet on a team to become emotionally invested in the game! Why, I practically —” and let me stop you right there, junior, because I swear to Zac Efron, if you were about to say you bleed [insert team’s usually clashing and hideous colors here], then I will ralph all over you. I mean, seriously, black and gold? Is you a blinged-out bumblebee!?And before you point out the obvious fact that I’m too bitter and snarky to ever understand your magical relationship with a team you’ve never met from a city you’ve never been to, don’t. I, too, once had a favorite team: the Miami Dolphins. But then I watched a football game and realized this is not what I thought I was getting into. I thought it’d be more like that live-action dolphin escapade movie with Elijah Wood — “Flipper.” Completely let down, I threw away my Miami Dolphins pogs and my pro-“Miami” Big Willie Style CD and vowed to never let myself invest in anything again. I’m serious; I keep all my money in J.Crew gift cards under my mattress.With one minor exception, I am happy to watch fake organized sports — not wrestling though, and if you even think of making a wrestling reference to my name, I will hunt you down like a dog that escaped from my dogfighting — I mean, Quidditch — arena. I can just hear the moans, and no, this isn’t a pro-Potter tirade, because I think Harry Potter is a whiny little &$%^#&, I only like Hermione and the crazy albino girl. But no, there’s only one good thing about Quidditch and that’s the high probability of horrible injury and/or death — how does that Ginny-mackin’ dork keep surviving those falls?Yeah, yeah, yeah — if I wanted to see fiery deaths, I could just watch Nascar, but if I wanted to watch and hear something go around in circles for hours aimed at a redneck-exclusive audience, I would just listen to an argument on Fox News.But don’t worry, I’m desperate for friendship, so I’m still coming to your Super Bowl party. There are a few things you can count on: I’m eating all your Scoops and not sharing and I’m also just going to yell “That’s a technical!” every five seconds, including during commercials.If you want me to behave and watch sports with you, call me when the world goes back to some good, wholesome sports entertainment — anything involving Michael Phelps or gladiator fights to the death. Ancient civilization was the funnest. Holler!Steve’s column runs weekly Fridays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(01/23/09 6:29am)
Um, hi, Obama, the economy is still refusing to hand me a job on a silver platter. Weren’t you supposed to fix everything? It’s been days! I watched that free Jonas Brothers concert — and saw the awkward hug between Nick and Miley afterwards — so I know you got inaugurated. Where’s the change Steve needs?That’s it. I am not going back to my job at Build-A-Bear Workshop after graduation. I have a lot of expensive habits — monthly visits to Disneyland, reckless driving without insurance, refusing to drink any water not bottled in Norway — and the part-time mall thing isn’t going to cut it. It’s time to put dreams where they belong (in your self-published memoirs you’ll write when you’re 70) and get realistic. And by “realistic,” I mean it’s time to sell out. Luckily, I learned the Comm School’s application deadline isn’t until Monday!Now I might be at a teeny tiny disadvantage because of the whole fourth-year thing. (Ed. Note: Other disadvantages include the incompetence thing and the questionable morals thing.) But OMG diversity — love it!Obviously, I’m going to abuse all my power in this cutthroat admissions process. So while my lame competition is submitting application essays online via some bureaucratic conformist form like we’re supposed to or whatever, I’m not having any of that. My essay is published! Eat it, you second-year chumps! “Why I’m Perfect for Comm School.”My business acumen was developed at a tender age, when I’d often be found tearing up the Monopoly Junior board, kicking people off properties from the second I sat down and investing in hotels like a Hilton. And while that might show my natural quantitative skills and healthy competitive streak (don’t even get me started on how awesome I was at Candy Land), what about my goal-setting and project-implementation skills?For instance, when mumsy and daddykins wouldn’t get me a Power Wheels for Christmas, did I steal the neighbor’s? No, I just stole its battery and broke off a side view mirror. Or did I work hard and put in an honest day’s work until I reached my goal? No, I slopped together some Country Time and outsourced my job at the lemonade stand to a cuter kid down the street. Then I got bored saving for my new ride and bought a Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine.I know what you’re saying, McIntire application-reader person. If only you had discovered my young talent as a precocious vandal and put me on an accelerated path through business school, maybe I could have been partly responsible for an economic crisis or two by now! Well, y’know what they say, hindsight is 20/20. Unless you’re my competition, then chances are I broke your glasses, because I’m in it to win it, Four-Eyes.But as I’ve aged, I’ve developed even more soft skills to offer. For instance, I’m a people person. Technically I’m a gossipy Facebook-addict, but I’m working on my marketing skills, so now I say “people person.” The Comm School is a perfect place for people, people like me what with all the group work, don’tchaknow. For instance, where else can I hang out with a bunch of people wearing North Face and J.Crew and still call it work? Technically, if you worked at The North Face or J.Crew, you’d call it work, but now that I’m on the six-digit fast track, I don’t waste my priceless thoughts on the plebes who spend their shifts counting down the minutes until their break so they can get a Cinnabon.But hey, Commies do more than work in groups and dress like upper-middle class suburbanites! They also play softball. And that’s going to be a problem. Ever since I was scarred by teeball in summer camp, I found my life mantra: “If at first you don’t succeed, deny ever trying.” So I was done with organized sports, except for that brief time when my parents put me in the soccer league, the kind where you’re not allowed to keep points and everyone gets an equal turn. My parents were apparently trying to quash my competitive side (I swear Mikey fell off the stage during fifth grade musical auditions). But I’m happy to be softball team manager and not just because it’s going to look great on the ol’ resHOOme.I’ve covered my accomplished past and team-oriented present, but what about my future? Obviously, I see myself at a premier investment bank or consulting firm — whichever offers the coolest name to put on my resHOOme and fails to notice I still use my fingers to count. After I clock in a few years, I’ll go back to business school to learn how to boss people around even better. (It’s a skill I have long since mastered by sassing the baristas at Starbucks every time they mess up my simple, simple order of a non-fat triple grande quarter-sweet, sugar-free vanilla, extra-foamy caramel macchiato at exactly 140 degrees — a few degrees is so noticeable, who do they think they’re fooling?)Then I’ll clock in a few more years until I reach the C-level. (And avoid noticing the irony that the highest goal of a business career is to reach the C-level — I got that in Orgo without even going to class!) Oh, also, I forgot to mention business ethics, value-added work, sustainable business practices and some more hip buzzwords whose meaning no one really knows.In summary, I’ve sold out family and friends (even worse than that time in “High School Musical” in the library when Chad was doing all the talking but he totally told the librarian it was Troy), but now I’m ready to sell out myself. Comm School, here I come! Besides, if I still want to be a zookeeper, I can just buy my own zoo after hitting it big in business — much like reputable businessmen Michael Jackson and Hugh Hefner did.Steve’s column runs weekly Fridays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(01/16/09 8:57am)
Being a wise, wise boy with all the answers, people ask me a lot of questions. Often, I’m called in as an unbiased, super-smart third party to end bitter debates. For instance, in the debate between me and my friend Lesley about whether her blue vest made my eyes bleed, I called myself in as an unbiased, super-cute third party.It turns out that I agreed with myself — Lesley, your blue vest belongs on a lumberjack. But not everyone can be supplied with my awe-inspiring great nuggets o’ wisdom in person, so I’ve decided to use this column to finally end the universe’s greatest debates once and for all. DEBATE NUMBER ONE: Best classic Disney movie Obviously, “High School Musical” would win any Disney contest (or any movie contest for that matter), but we’re debating about those classic animated films that gave you unrealistic hopes for love, made you consider marrying a really hairy guy if he had a big house, and made nasty, stray dogs canoodling over spaghetti in an alleyway precious.But really there were only four good ones: “The Lion King,” “Beauty and the Beast,” “Aladdin” and “The Little Mermaid.” I’ve written term papers about “The Little Mermaid” for two of my classes in the College, so I’m an expert — simmer down. “The Lion King” loses right off the bat because the only good thing it had going for it was JTT voicing Simba, and “Aladdin” had a better 80s/90s sitcom child star voice a character – none other than Steve from “Full House” donchaknow.“Beauty and the Beast” also loses right off the bat, because the Beast was ugly and Belle was a geek — remember when she saw that library and got way too excited? Nerd alert! “The Little Mermaid” has the best songs (just deal with it), and I’ve always wanted to ram a boat into an octopus lady, but “Aladdin” is the winner because he has better sidekicks.What did Ariel have? A wussy fish with obvious self-esteem issues, a crab (I have tons of those!) and a seagull with poor depth-perception. Aladdin had a magical genie, flying carpet and a kleptomaniac monkey. Abu was the best, so Aladdin wins. I just wish I had an Abu shirt to wear for my first-grade portrait instead of that much less awesome, but still pretty awesome, Aladdin shirt. DEBATE NUMBER TWO: MK versus Ash Speaking of “Full House,” let’s not pretend I watched it for any reason other than the snarky lines from Michelle. Just like everyone, I’m sure, I own all of The Olsen Twin movies — the one where they got kidnapped at Christmas, the one where they became witches and, of course, the hour-long commercial for the Mall of America — that was cinematic genius.But as with any set of twins, one twin must be better than the other. With most twins, one is the looks and one is the brains. For instance, if I had a secret evil twin, I know he’d be really, really smart.Now you might throw a hissy fit and whine, “But Steve! They’re twins! How can MK be prettier?” And to that, dear ignorant reader, I say you’re gonna need to take a chill pill. I don’t need ugly, ignorant readers for my column — just go back to the Sports section where you came from.One of my friends decided this debate was simple: “Obvi MK. She’s skinnier.” It’s definitely points for MK, but she also gets in fights with Paris Hilton, has ADD (the cutest of all learning disorders), had a stint on “Weeds,” and was “friends” with Heath Ledger before the whole death thing. What’s Ash done lately? Stay in school and date a fellow 90s has-been Jared Leto? Basically nothing worth bragging about. MK wins. Obvi. DEBATE NUMBER THREE: Best television show now that “The Office” is boring Lots of people would say “30 Rock.” And while that’s a cute option, and Tina Fey is, of course, the only good alumna from U.Va. (Benjamin McKenzie is the only good alumnus). Also, along with Z-Efron, I try to get my pals Tina and Ben into as many of my columns as possible. Anyhoo, the real winner is “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” My only goal in life is to be like the incompetent, lazy and self-serving sociopaths in the “gang.” Solving the oil crisis, setting each other on fire, staging rock operas for the people they stalk — all misadventures I want — no need — to be a part of ... pronto! DEBATE NUMBER FOUR: Hanson versus the Jonas Brothers Wait, there’s a difference? Three boys in their late teens, some members vaguely resemble girls, chastity vows, I own several of their CDs ... the list just goes on and on. Unfortunately, everyone in Hanson is old, and Taylor has like 50 kids now. They have to go to colleges to beg people to listen to their new, mellow tunes. Well, I’m not buying it. The Disney Channel told me to love the Jonas Brothers, and I will. And there will be heck to pay if Duffy steals that Grammy from my ‘bros. DEBATE NUMBER FIVE: Star Wars versus Star TrekIn public, this debate can only have two possible outcomes if you’re trying to preserve your glamorous social status as a non-geek. Neither involves picking Star Trek. Outcome one is you say Star Wars is better. Outcome two is you say neither and push the geek who asked you. Star Wars introduced us to Natalie Portman of SNL-rapping video fame and Harrison Ford of fedora-wearing fame and most importantly it gave me my excuse for standing in front a fan for hours as a kid going “Luke, I am your fatherrrr.” Just kidding, I still do that now.I only saw that one Star Trek movie where they go back in time to 80s San Fran and save whales, but J.J. Abrams — y’know the guy who did “Felicity,” “Alias,” the second-best Mission Impossible movie and that show about an island that got old after a season — is directing the new movie. I’m def going opening night. I am, however, bringing my camera to take mocking photos of the dweebs who will undoubtedly dress up. Then I will tag them on Facebook with obscene and cruel comments.That is the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek geeks. People who like Star Wars know to usually keep the outfits at home and just leak viral videos of themselves with a broomstick/lightsaber onto YouTube. Star Wars wins. DEBATE NUMBER SIX: Pro-life versus it’s a child, not a choiceOops, ran outta space.Steve’s column runs weekly Fridays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(11/24/08 5:00am)
Oh boy! Thanksgiving is coming — a holiday based on watching my boring relatives eat their emotions! Which means it’s time for some delicious tofurkey – just kidding; as for all major holiday meals, my family goes to Chipotle.It’s also the time of year when my family begins its quest of ruining my Disney Channel marathons with inane questions. The worst offender is the “What are you going to do with your life?” query. I usually just turn up the volume on “Hannah Montana,” but if you actually talk to your parents instead of wishing they would abandon you so you can then get adopted by a kindly criminal defense attorney with great hair and live with his WASPy wife and their sarcastic son in Newport Beach, you might need to have a career plan to tell your parents. Thus, I present the list of the only seven acceptable careers worth having.1. Olympic athleteNo, this is not on the list just because my screensaver just popped up and it’s a menagerie of Michael Phelps photos. Honor code what? Oh, he’s also my desktop background obvi. Anyway, the kid doggy paddles around in a pool for a few years, gets to eat all the mayonnaise he wants and is encouraged to wear more neck bling than Flavor Flav. Sign me up. If you’d like to be more clothed on national television — personally I can’t even shop at the Gap because their clothes are too flashy — then I recommend one of the many more prude-friendly Olympic sports: badminton, trampolining, and — tools rejoice — bocce!2. Celebrity personal assistantWhile I will obviously just submit my resHOOme for the position of celebrity, I’m a lot cuter than you, so you’re gonna need to start at the bottom. As a personal assistant, the job varies a lot depending on which A-lister you bag. With Britney for instance, you’ll be out buying lots of frapps and Cheetos, gluing on hair extensions and airbrushing her album covers. Just remember to “forget” to sign that non-disclosure agreement or you’ll never be able to write that tell-all Jennifer Lopez book.3. Boutique pastry chefWhile my cooking efforts usually end in me eating all the Funfetti batter from the bowl, sometimes true inspiration hits me. Like that one time I threw in some Sour Patch Kids before baking cookies; I knew I could’ve sold those for five dollars each at a trendy bakery in the Hills or Chelsea. Plus, you can always brag about your involvement with the CIA – Culinary Institute of America, but just leave it at the acro and say it’s hush hush no duh.4. AstronautOK, I’ll admit that being a baker is kinda icky. Making food for others? What am I, the help? But if elementary school museum visits taught me one thing, it’s that dinosaurs are awesome. But that’s neither here nor there. If museum visits taught me two things, the second is totes that astronauts eat like kings. And they don’t make any of it themselves! Freeze-dried ice cream comes prepackaged — holler! So you have to mix your own Tang, but I’m sure they teach you how to do that in the 20 years of astronaut training or the 30 years you spend getting that doctorate in aeronautical engineering.5. ArtistWait? You majored in [insert your lame poetry, studio art, art history, etc. major here]? Well, I hope, the past four years were great, because I hear Barnes and Noble’s employee discount is only 20 percent. No, just kidding. While you will be making Britney’s personal assistant frapps for her boss, you don’t have to tell anyone that’s your job. No, no, instead you’re an artist. When pronounced, please use extra emphasis on the “tist” with a mild inflection. You should often be found in a super trendy coffee shop or bookstore, musing deep thoughts for your latest novella, watercolor or black-and-white photo shoot. Really, you’re just waiting for your shift to start, but don’t put that part on your Facebook profile.6. Exotic baby animal veterinarianSo I spend most of my days watching the Puppy Cam. I like going to Clemons with fellow Puppy Cam-enthusiasts and hooking my Mac to the big monitors so we can have big Puppy Cam study parties. When they twitch in their sleep, I realize I love all animals so so so much. As I eat my Chik-fil-A nuggets and waffle fries I got fo’ free (eating meat makes me feel like a winner, because when it comes to the food chain I’m always tops, yo) and watch my Beta fish bang its fishy face against its bowl — just because I set a mirror next to it and it’s trying to fight what it thinks is another fish — my compassion for animals makes me cry just a little. Kind of like the movie “Old Yeller” makes me cry a little. And laugh a lot. Old things are the worst and should thank the hand that feeds them and/or takes them out back with a shotgun. That’s why I only want to hang out with the cute puppies of the animal world. Actually, not even puppies. They’re not exotic enough. I want to ice down poor camel humps in Egypt while singing that Black Eyed Peas song, explain global warming and democracy to the pandas of China and box kangaroos in Australia — it’s not animal abuse if they box back! Most importantly — and you knew I was going to go there — just imagine all the cute Facebook photos you’ll get!7. GladiatorIt didn’t really work out for Russell, but that’s pre-karma because he later ruined Meg Ryan’s marriage, and she and Dennis were America’s sweethearts before Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes — or Vanessa Hudgens and Zac Efron; it’s debatable. Anyway, the point is, before the ugly, younger Phoenix brother stabbed him, Russell was livin’ the dream: hanging out with exotic animals — but fighting them to death as opposed to the more PETA-friendly veterinarian route I already mentioned — and going on adventures to slay villains.And if you already made the rookie mistake of accepting a job at some investment bank or an offer for some law school, now’s the time to wise up, son. You think that high salary or whatever is gonna slay villains, cure sea otter cancer or impress Grandpa Austin? The only thing that impresses Grandpa Austin is one of these seven careers and your ability to pass the guac.Steve’s column runs biweekly Mondays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(11/10/08 5:00am)
OMG guys, I can totes be serious!I have more political know-how than all the tools in your government class combined.Go vote! Wait, it happened when?As an illustrious columnist/public servant, I try my darnedest to keep an open dialogue with the community. But people refuse to tell me what I want to hear — how cute my picture is — and insist on being negative Nancies and fussing about how I never cover the “serious issues.” My fans ask me, “Steve, I know costumes and old Nickelodeon shows are important, but what about the economy, famine and politics? Why must you deny your loyal readers your sage opinions on these topics?”Now I have yet to Google who won the election last Tuesday ... Actually, the only choice I made that day was between Chunky Monkey and Neapolitan Dynamite when electing my free scoop from Ben and Jerry’s, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how new President Whoever should go about doing his job better.Recessions, health care problems and wars are all no-brainers, so I’m going to skip to the fun part: picking a new cabinet. I’m not talking about what I do at IKEA during the weekends; I’m ranting about how the president gets to give glamorous jobs to all his BFFs. Hopefully this new president will play the game right like I do.These résumé-boosting positions are great gifts, so why waste them on people who already like you? For instance, I never give birthday presents to people I’m already friends with — we’re already friends (Facebook says so!) so why would I put any more work into this? I only give presents — usually framed Photoshopped pictures of us together — to the cute kids I want to join my posse.I think you know where I’m going with this, and yes, the president’s first pick as chief of staff should have been Zac Efron. Who better to be the new chief of staff than someone with a proven track record of teamwork by bringing together a diverse collection of associates, from musically-inclined brainiacs to basketball-playing pastry chefs? A real bipartisan team work ethic is just a few Oval Office renditions of “We’re All in This Together” away.And like I said earlier, this whole “recession” people are blabbing about is so not even a biggie because we’ll just pawn it off on new Secretary of the Treasury Paris Hilton. After John McCain compared her to Barack Obama — because they’re both celebrities who look great in swimsuits — she started her own presidential campaign. Unfortunately, the liberal media never gives Paris the attention she deserves, so her campaign was disadvantaged from the start. Her ability, however, to make millions every year without a job shows she has the business savvy it’ll take to clean up this hot economic mess. Plus, by winning her BFFship the easy way with a cushy government appointment, the president will save weeks he otherwise would have to spend on the next season of “Paris Hilton’s My New BFF.”I just know this country’s favorite hotel heiress/hussy will be filled with tons of cost-cutting advice. For instance, this whole billion-dollar war in Iraqistan or wherever? Paris would fight her wars much more efficiently. Just release your enemy’s sex tape, spread rumors that he, she or the country has an eating disorder and then “forget” to invite them to your pool party. If that doesn’t get you a truce in a month, then hey, at least you’ll have gotten a lot of great publicity on Perez Hilton.To pull this off, though, Paris will have to get to work with new Secretary of Defense Matt Damon. No explanation needed for Matt Damon. Also, Secretary of the Interior (Decorating) Martha Stewart doesn’t require an explanation, but I’ll provide one because I don’t think you’re as smart as me: She has experience with the federal system, specifically its penitentiaries, and if her pumpkin marble cake recipe isn’t enough of a reason to put her eighth in line for succession to the presidency, then I just don’t know what is.And I’m sure all my hippie readers are throwing up their cruelty-free, locally-grown, tasteless salads in a hissyfit because this cabinet hasn’t solved the climate crisis, but never fear! Jessie Spano as secretary of energy will fix our dependency on foreign oil. Just jam some pep pills in her yapper, hook her up to a treadmill and she’ll power the country for the foreseeable future — while screeching “I’m So Excited” and maybe some other ‘80s hits. And if anyone dares point out Jessie’s a fictional character, then I’ll be forced to point out global warming is a fictional crisis. Sarah Palin assured us global warming is just God hugging us closer, which she couldn’t have done without some facts to back up such claims. By Palin, obviously I mean Tina Fey, but she’s a U.Va. alumna and if she lied, then it’s an honor violation, so you know it must be true.For chief technology officer, the obvious choice is social-climbing geek extraordinaire Mac Guy aka Justin Long. He’s the personification of a Mac, so I assume he can fix the president’s iPod, but more importantly he’s dating chicks way out of his league: Drew Barrymore, Kirsten Dunst and — OMG — Tila Tequila. As this country begins its downward spiral at the hands of globalization and canceling “The O.C.” — almost two years later and I’m still bitter — Mac Guy can show the new president how to hang out with the cooler kids/countries so they can give us gigantic loans for no reason because goodness knows we need them. But wait, isn’t it someone else’s job to deal with other countries? And isn’t there a famous television personality everyone loves who I haven’t mentioned yet? Duh, as secretary of state, Oprah will get a chance to tell other countries’ authors that they’re dirty liars and open up even more Oprah-brand schools all over the world. After watching Mr. Katie Holmes stomp all over her sofa, she knows how to deal with the crazies as well, which is going to help when Sarah Palin becomes president of Russia — she practically lives there already. But really this is just a stepping stone for the inevitable and glorious Oprah for President in 2012. We need someone to keep that seat warm for when Zac Efron is old enough to run in 2024.Steve’s column runs biweekly Mondays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(10/27/08 5:21am)
OMG, happy b-day to the devil! Just kidding — I have no idea what the heck Halloween is celebrating. I do know that for the next week or three I get to eat a giant bag of candy every day and dress up in ridiculous outfits and no one can judge me. No one! Personally, I’ve been worrying about my costume for the past 11 months — this is the biggest Facebook photo-taking day of the year! I gotta get my cute on, yo. Meanwhile, some people have been slacking on their costume brainstorm sessions, but don’t worry because I’m totes happy to explain it all to you.Now lots of people — and by people, I mostly mean girls — mock the sacredness of the devil’s holiday by slutting it up with costumes like whorey maid, whorey teacher, and whorey [insert normally respectable and heinously underpaid profession here]. While other judgmental columnists might wag their finger and say “Tut! Tut!,” not me. I wholeheartedly encourage it. Just remember to wear that outfit to trick-or-treating on the Lawn.At least guys have the good taste just to wear a hooded black robe and accessorize it. It’s a great excuse to buy a plastic light saber or sword, which we all know you just bought to jump around your room with in videos you later “accidentally” post on YouTube. Or maybe you added a super scary mask? Unless you’re making a dated reference to that amazing episode of “Boy Meets World” with Jennifer Love Hewitt where Shawn kills everyone (even Feeny!) in his sleep, lose the mask. I just want to know who stole the last Reese’s Cup. I don’t care if that peanut butter is dry and powdery, those things are crazy good.Even worse than the generic whore/robe costumes are the exact opposite, when you just had the most original idea ever ... for something everyone’s talking about these days. You’re going to dress like the Joker/Sarah Palin? If you dress like the Joker, your costume is a joke. The only time I want to see disheveled hair and smeared makeup on people is during walks of shame, so save it for the morning after Halloween.Maybe you want to show your topical political humor, so Palin is right up your alley. News flash: Tina Fey did it better than you. For instance, the only time I’ve actually ever seen the real Palin is when she confronted Fey’s Palin on “Saturday Night Live” last week. Even the real Palin paled in comparison to Fey’s. But tell you what — if you decide to go beyond the business suit, McCain sticker and Tina Fey glasses, you might salvage the look. For instance, get an accomplice to dress up as your ironically pregnant teenage daughter or a guy with a six pack (bonus points if his name is actually Joe) or maybe hone your Alaskan accent and befriend some Russians. There are so many options with her, so I won’t forbid it.But I will forbid many other possibilities. There are always those costumes that people never fail to bring out year after year. Wow, you managed to find a red and white shirt and some Harry Potter glasses? Great, but when I ask “Where’s Waldo?,” the answer better be staying in your dorm room until you think of a legitimate costume. What’s that? You managed to find a belt and underwear, so you’ve decided to be Quailman? Listen junior, I don’t want to see your Kmart briefs. If you’re going for the ‘90s semi-obscure cartoon look, try Doug’s more interesting alter ego Jack Bandit. Basically he’s a Zorro rip-off that Doug invented to escape punishment for supposedly burning down the gymnasium with his fake volcano science project. Plus his catchphrase is “Wa Na Na ... Jack Bandit!,” and that never gets old. Or you can realize Doug was a ridiculously inept, easily malleable, poor role model for youngsters who wrote in a diary and pick a better character like Skeeter, but then there’s that awkward debate about whether he’s blue or green. I thought he looked green, but Wikipedia told me he was blue, so then I edited the page so now I’m back to being right as usual. Double triple bonus points if you go as Skeeter’s Quailman-esque alter ego Silver Skeeter.And I know Jim stapled three paper circles to his chest and called himself a three-hole punch, but even if he’s Jim and the best example of everything that’s right with “The Office” and the world in general, he’s still a dirty rule-breaker. Anything you can do in five seconds doesn’t count. Anything you wear on a normal basis doesn’t count. A slip with a piece of paper taped on that says Freud? Oh ... a Freudian slip. That’s super clever — by the way, are you too cheap to buy a costume or just really that uncreative? You’re a track star, you say? Liar! I’ve seen you wear that to the AFC, you liar! Stop mocking Halloween!This Halloween, the devil, me and all your Facebook friends want you to look a little less embarrassing than normal while getting your candy on, so try not to disappoint us all like you usually do.Steve’s column runs biweekly Mondays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(09/29/08 4:43am)
So you’ve coughed up your Rita’s Water Ice realizing the “Ice-Custard-Happiness” slogan is one-third lies. Or maybe you’ve made 109 shopping trips to Shady Grady only to discover repeats don’t count. I definitely know some kids who need to look in a mirror and realize both No. 1 (go streaking) and No. 109 (go on a real date) aren’t going to happen. There are, however, plenty of super reasons to have beef with the Class of 2009’s “109 Things You Have to Do Before Graduation” list, and thus, I humbly offer my own list of all the things worth accomplishing here at the University.1. Get in a bar fightI live by one principle and one alone. WWPD: What would Paris (Hilton) do? One of the many answers to this query is a bar fight. Anyone who graduates from college without a scar and possibly a little jail time from a bar brawl just isn’t trying hard enough. Bonus points if you do it at Buddhist Biker Bar & Grill so you technically can say you got in a fight at a biker bar. Just leave out the part about the fight being with a sorority girl about which a capella group is better.2. Become famous ... JuicyCampus famousEveryone knows there are different levels of awesome around Grounds. There are Lawnies, kids with 1,000 Facebook friends, Life columnists — but you know you’ve hit the big time when your name pops up on JuicyCampus. Until a pasty GDI can’t find time in his busy schedule of driving UTS buses and eating at Runk Dining Hall to post a jealous tirade about you, then I’m sorry, friend, but you’re actually not my friend because I only hang out with JC celebs.3. Don’t recycleSorry No. 107, but now that the dining halls have stolen our trays and you have to carry your 20 plates individually, you’ve been looking for ways to even the score. You heard me, Mother Earth, reusing, recycling and whatever that third “R” that no one can ever remember — we’re not having anything to do with them anymore. Why not leave your Hummer running at all times, because what if you have a hairspray emergency and need to go get some pronto? Having trouble sleeping? Just go ahead and leave your shower on all night. Nothing like the sound of waterfalls to help you drift asleep. Sure, the “man” might cut off your water when it’s been on for eight hours straight, so you’re going to need to buy a lot of bottled water. Though, who cares? Personally, I don’t use tap water. I can only brush my teeth with bottled water flown in from the Fiji Islands.4. Suffer irreparable burn damage in a steam tunneling accidentNo. 25 might set you on the right track by pointing out the hilarious antics to be had by illegally trespassing in an underground labyrinth of rat carcasses and drunk first-years too socially awkward to get invited to a party, but ... actually I don’t know where I was going with this one. I just got burned while ironing some slacks and wanted you all to feel my pain.5. Get hypnotized by Tom DeLucaAs fun as it is to see the same hypnotist do the exact same thing every year ... oh, wait, it’s not fun. So how do you get out of it? It’s too early in the year so you can’t drop that homework excuse yet (save that for the Rotunda sing). No, silly, the best way out of watching the show is to try to get in the show! Nothing makes creepy DeLuca’s bad jokes as bearable as a forced comatose state. The only downsides are he might touch you inappropriately and everyone will realize you’re a terrible person and have the mouth of a sailor. Oh, and unfortunately, there’s a one-in-20 chance you’ll be that year’s kid who takes his shirt off.6. Remind friends that the clock is tickingI don’t know why so many people threw a hissy fit about No. 109. Getting a date is the battle, getting a rock is the war — don’t you people watch any of the shows on VH1? So while they’re busy worrying, you should be busy mocking. Did a friend of a friend just send out her wedding invitations? Is your friend worried college is almost finished and no one has popped the question yet? Well, it’s time to start reminding all your friends of a few important facts. Fact one: All their friends are getting proposals. Fact two: They are not. Remember, despite what University Career Services says, the best-paying major/degree is still the Mrs. Degree.7. Join a secret society then accidentally give away which one you’re in with your list’s number schemeAlmost as great as getting on JuicyCampus (where everyone knows how awesome you are) is joining a secret society (where only a handful of people know how awesome you are). When sending out your applications, just remember there’s a pretty widely accepted hierarchy of secret societies. I’m not ranking them here, though ... unless the Class of 2009 adds “get knifed” to the list.Then if you’re really industrious (i.e., pre-med, pre-law or pre-Lawn), you can also throw in some studying or whatever the kids do these days. My list just covers the Facebook photo-worthy stuff.Steve’s column runs biweekly Mondays. He can be reached at s.austin@cavalierdaily.com.
(11/28/07 5:00am)
By Steve Austin
Cavalier Daily Associate Editor
As exams approach, students collectively wonder where the semester has gone. As they look to make every minute count before finals, others have an even greater reason to manage their time efficiently. Randy Pausch, a former University and Carnegie Mellon computer science professor, has been dealing with that very concern as his pancreatic cancer diagnosis gave him three to six months to live -- more than three months ago.