Hello Fellow Collegians and Friends,
I, Rick Goddard, am now beginning to blog. I always promised myself I wouldn't become one of those "up their own asses, shit-eating, skidmark blowing bloggers". I won't try to discuss things I have no bearing on, so I'll stick to things I know: college life. And if you're in college then you must have seen the loss dealt to the Jayhawks. As disturbed as I was about the loss, I was more disturbed about the guy I saw in the bathroom of the place I was watching the game at. Although he had the appearance of a badass, handlebar mustache, trucker hat, and flowing locks rivaling Bret Michaels, he was definitely a massive tool. His shirt looked like someone had farted a temporary tattoo on it. His eyes were masked by white sunglasses. The white matched the blow on his upper lip.
When I walked in and saw him, my knee-jerk reaction was to shout, "Creature!" He looked like he was a reject from Jim Henson's Muppet Workshop. Fortunately, I avoided contact and escaped the bathroom as he blew the rails of the Booger Sugar Express.
I returned to the table where a Prairie Fire shot was waiting for me like a drunk stepdad to kick my ass before mom got home. Tabasco and Tequila are two of those things that should never meet like a present girlfriend and your ex or eye contact with the other dude in a threesome. The Prairie Fire was the trigger for what would ensue for the rest of the night.
Part 2 on the way.
Goddard Out.
I, Rick Goddard, am now beginning to blog. I always promised myself I wouldn't become one of those "up their own asses, shit-eating, skidmark blowing bloggers". I won't try to discuss things I have no bearing on, so I'll stick to things I know: college life. And if you're in college then you must have seen the loss dealt to the Jayhawks. As disturbed as I was about the loss, I was more disturbed about the guy I saw in the bathroom of the place I was watching the game at. Although he had the appearance of a badass, handlebar mustache, trucker hat, and flowing locks rivaling Bret Michaels, he was definitely a massive tool. His shirt looked like someone had farted a temporary tattoo on it. His eyes were masked by white sunglasses. The white matched the blow on his upper lip.
When I walked in and saw him, my knee-jerk reaction was to shout, "Creature!" He looked like he was a reject from Jim Henson's Muppet Workshop. Fortunately, I avoided contact and escaped the bathroom as he blew the rails of the Booger Sugar Express.
I returned to the table where a Prairie Fire shot was waiting for me like a drunk stepdad to kick my ass before mom got home. Tabasco and Tequila are two of those things that should never meet like a present girlfriend and your ex or eye contact with the other dude in a threesome. The Prairie Fire was the trigger for what would ensue for the rest of the night.
Part 2 on the way.
Goddard Out.
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