For some strange reason, Jay has taken it upon himself to delete one of the finest pieces of writing I've come across in many moons.

As the editor of Assface I have exercised my liberty, nay, my obligation to post this piece again. Jay be proud of this, it's brilliant...

A College Tale of Loneliness and Heartbreak, BY JAY SIMS
Many nights during senior year I went home alone. Didn't much matter how many times I hooked up in the past, because, believe me, that number was never enough. These were the only nights that mattered, the ones happening right now. The good times were behind me.

I was standing in the back of the Post, drinking Schlitz and trying to wipe the sweat from my brow, only it was coming too fast. I ballooned to 263 pounds during senior year and my perspiration rate had accelerated to a ferocious pace. Any fascination the ladies had with me was long over. I was like the boxer with a ton of heart who won't retire and keeps getting pounded by inferior, but younger talent.

I remember this night as one when many alumni came back to school to see their friends. They were harmless enough, but if I can just convey to you the look in the eyes of a sorority vixen when one of her favorite heros came storming back into the bar for the first time, you'd wanna put one right between your eyes.

I spoke to no one. People recognized my face and nodded but had nothing to say to me. I had become a fat, anti-social miscreant. I was a cheater, a stoner, and a purveyor of lies. I soiled my soul with the false dreams of others.

I drank my Schlitz, smoked my Reds and offered someone a light when asked. I scanned the room, watching the lively women and their curves, bending away from me.

It got a little later, and a little rowdier. I remembered feeling scared for the first time since I'd been away at school. The bar was emptying out fast, and it would be more noticeable that I'd been standing by myself for the last two hours.

I walked out, not straying far from the bar, almost pretending to be looking for someone. Except that person had long gone.

A couple of fine posts, Jaybo. Good way to end the drought.

One of my favorite college stories involves a cheating scandal as well. I am not particularly proud of this stunt, but it was done out of pure survival. When this incident occurred I had already been on academic probation for 2 straight semesters, and if I got under a 2.0 again, I would be kicked out.

Try to think of how inept a student I must have been to go two straight semesters with GPAs of 1.1, and 1.3 respectively. In my sophomore year, the SUNYA powers-that-be were fed up with me for dumbing down their fine educational institution. I was a drag on their academic standards, and I obviously didn't belong there.

Of course this couldn't have come at a worse time. I tend to think of our sophomore year as the definitive year of stupidity and hijinx. There was a certain, albeit small, level of maturity that occurred when we moved off campus the following year... but good lord, the shit that went on sophomore year... well you were there.

Back to the scandal... SOC 115, if you remember, was probably the easiest goddamn class to get an 'A' on. Higgins literally gave you the complete pool of questions (and their answers, i think) that he would be asking in the final. All you had to do was spend a some time memorizing the questions and answers. How much of a fucking idiot did you really have to be to NOT look at the questions he would be asking in the finals? Well it depends on how much of an idiot you think I am.

Surprise surprise, in the days leading to the finals, not only did I not study for the SOC 115 final, but I didn't study for ANY of the finals. Amazing. Don't get me wrong, I kind of studied, but my brand of studying was going down to the cafeteria and doing my lame ass comedy routine on unsuspecting sorority girls to try to get them to touch my peesh. It's that simple. While I was a complete and total failure at the studying bit, I enjoyed a limited amount of success in getting girls to do nasty things that their daddies would not approve of.

To digress just a bit, I remember two failed tactics that now seem particularly absurd. One was a perennial favorite
1- "You can actually study when you're high, but the catch is that you have to take the test high too." That is completely false.
2- "Stay up all night, hopped up on caffeine, and the next day take the test without sleeping while it's fresh in your mind." As though sleeping would somehow make you forget things. (Unlike the "taking the test high" method, this mistake was to be repeated over and over again, failing miserably in a spectacular Jolt Cola experiment, where I actually slept through my finals after downing a six pack).

Anyway, with just days to go, and Sega/pot/girl taking up all my time, I was in trouble. I didn’t even have the copies of the questions. Everyone else seemed to. They were printed on these giant pages that you get from the VAX center. No internet back in those days... can you imagine??

So the stage was set for me to get kicked out of school, until I propositioned a pledge to take the final for me. "Propositioned" is not really the right word here, but it's hard to put into words the dynamics that existed back then between us BROOTHERS and them pledges. For a bright kid, this was a spectacularly stupid stunt for him to do. If caught, it was definitely a crime worthy of expulsion, but back then we were all caught up in doing stupid shit. It was the cool thing to do. Anyway, this pledge, who will remain nameless in this blog (email me for his name, if you're interested) told me he knew the shit cold. He'd manage to take the practice test in like 10 minutes, and ace the fucker.

My mind started racing... the train of thought went like this:
"If only he could take the test for me.... but damn, we're in the same class.... wait a minute, the giant class will be split up into 2 Lecture Rooms (ha, to avoid cheating)... and wait a minute... we are conveniently on the 2 separate ends of the alphabet (A-M LC 14, N-Z LC 18)... so... if he could somehow go take his test, then take my test...this could just work!"

The balls of this kid... he agreed to help me, and we devised a plan where he would go into his test, finish it as quickly as possible, then show up late to my Lecture Center, fill out my name and student ID number and take the test for me. He'd blame his alarm clock for being late....

Just to top it off, a few more details... he would have to be disguised when he came to take my test, just in case a teaching assistant was in both LCs. A pair of eyeglasses, a hat, and a different colored sweater would do. And what if they wouldn't let him take the test because he showed up 20 minutes late? Well, as a precaution, I took the test too, but I didn't fill out the name until he came into my class, took the test, and handed it in.

About 15 minutes after he came into my LC, he handed 'my' test in, and gave me a secret positive nod on his way out. Everything worked.... he had pulled it off.

The name I put into the test I handed in was "Salvador Villalobos Villalobos". He flunked the test. SUNYA wants to have a word with him, but no record of him studying at SUNYA was ever found.

A few months later, I got my grades, and lo and behold.... I got a cumulative 2.0 GPA for the semester.

I got 1.x's on all the other classes... but 'I' got a 4.0 on SOC 115. That, and that alone put me on the 2.0 barrier. I had a clean slate for academic probation! I could fuck up for 2 more semesters, and be all right!

Not a month goes by that I don't think of that brave pledge, and what he did for me. Thanks again. You changed my life.

Ricky's video is fixed, enjoy!

This story was written back in November 2000. We were innocent back then, and the world looked much rosier than it does now. Enjoy.

If we worked in radio, or TV, these collections of could be referred to as “bits.” But out here in the real world, they simple help pass the time, help us make something humorous out of an otherwise boring time.

Take our two main characters George and Mongrol, for example. They inevitably show up in almost all the stories, to add a bit of colorful wisdom and idiocy. George and Mongrol are modeled after Jay and me. I believe that they are caricatures of ourselves. Mongrol is this large very stupid man with a big heart. He loves George, but he also likes to eat people’s livers. In a modern day Frankenstenian tale, Mongrol sometimes gets out of control, and only George can control him. George is a notoriously greedy man who has a terrible sense of humor, and a lackluster view of life. He is a short, rat faced man, with tiny whiskers at the end of an otherwise normal moustache. Here is a typical George and Mongrol scenario:


Mongrol (while working for a failing dot com) got so fed up with his role as trained monkey one day, that he grabbed the human resources lady, knocked her down, and proceeded to eat her liver. All the office workers were shocked by this violent act, and quickly surrounded him to try and stop him. He was a crazy monster though, and no one could get him to stop. It was only after George came over, clapped his hands loudly and yelled at Mongrol that the carnage came to a stop. Typically, all George has to do is look at Mongrol for him to realize that he is doing something bad.

“Bad Mongrol!” says George.

“I ‘torry George… I ‘toopid… ‘toopid Mongrol,’ replies the remorseful giant.

As though nothing had happened, Mongrol returns to his cube, only to find a box of marshmallow peeps that someone from the office had left behind. Mongrol takes a yellow peep out of the box, looks at it with his sad puppy eyes and says to it, “no one like Mongrol. You like Mongrol peep. You my friend. You and George my friend. I love you.”

As a sad tear builds up in Mongrol’s eyes, he squeezes the peep and bites the head off.

George comes running over then to Mongrel and says to him, “Mongrol, what the hell are you doing? We gotta get the hell out of here! The HR lady has no liver, and the cops are on their way. Quick, let’s get out of here!”

George grabs Mongrol’s hand, and pulls him out of his chair. Not an easy thing to do since George is 105 pounds, and Mongrol is three times that. Mongrol gets up though, walks a few steps, then looks back at his bloodied box of remaining peeps.



“George, my peeps… Mongrol need peeps”

“Forget it Mongrol, I’ll get you some new ones. We got to get the hell out of here!”

“NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Mongrel whips his hand away from George, at the same time flinging the waifish body of George against a mini refrigerator.

More fantastic album covers...
SoCalypso
Trouble Again

Little QuickTime movie... "Ricky UK"