Wednesday, June 13, 2007

For the Movies

Fred lacked the common sense and cultural awareness necessary to make him a socially functional person. I’m sure this has been made abundantly clear already.

He would constantly do retarded things that made absolutely no sense, and could have been avoided if he would just take his fat head out of his smelly ass.

For example, one time he was over at my apartment and noticed a pile of unopened NetFlix on my table. He decided that he absolutely had to know what movies I had ordered, so he opened them.

Now, let me just say that while some people may take offense to someone else opening their mail, I would not (unless the mail were a bill, a paycheck, or something else that was clearly personal). So, in theory, I have no problem with someone checking out my NetFlix, even if it means opening a sealed envelope.

What I do have a problem with is someone opening the envelope inappropriately. For all three of you who do not subscribe to NetFlix, they come in little red envelopes that they can also be sent back in. On the front of the red envelope, there is your address, the return address, a large, black dotted line over a perforated line, and a large, bright yellow rectangle which says “open on this end” and has arrows pointing to the perforated end on which the envelope is to be opened in such a way that it can still be resealed and mailed back in to the distribution center.

It seems a little silly that they would have to tell you which end to open. If you have seen one of these before, then you know it is intuitively obvious to 99.99% of the population. Fred is in the 0.01%.

When I came out of the bathroom, Fred announced that he had looked at my NetFlix. I glanced down at my table and saw the envelopes ripped open across the middle. All three of them, destroyed.

I asked why he had opened them that way when there were explicit instructions on how to open the envelope. He remarked that he didn’t notice that, and that he didn’t wanted to open them anyway, he just wanted to peek at what they were. Great, so “peeking” at them involved ripping the entire back of the envelopes open.

When I was ready to send them back, the envelopes were completely destroyed, but since Fred refused to give me postage to pay for the pre-paid envelopes he destroyed, I had to tape them back up. I was ashamed when I had to bring my summer camp arts and crafts-esque pieces of crap to the mailbox.

Now the NetFlix guys think I ride the short bus.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

I Think I'll Have Myself a Beer

Fred decided to rush a fraternity his sophomore year of college. He had missed out on the whole IFC rush shindig both years, but when he heard that a new chapter was starting on campus, he decided that he would give this a shot (side note: joining a new fraternity is for losers who couldn't get in an established chapter).

Since there were no current members of the chapter, the rush events were all very official and held by alumni from other chapters of the fraternity as well as other current members from nearby schools.

Now, I am not 100% sure if this is a universal rule, but I know that it was widely known that at my college, fraternity rush events are "alcohol free." What this means is a fraternity will throw a picnic or poker tournament during the early evening which will have an end time of 8pm. After 8, the fraternity busts out the booze, or goes to a bar and will invite rushees to join them. One fraternity tried to do a true alcohol-free rush one year, and their pledge class quality reflected this poor decision.

Anyway, when there are advisers, people from the fraternity headquarters, or IFC officers present, the fraternity rush events are very strictly dry.

The first event held by the fraternity Fred was interested in was a crawfish boil to be held on the quad one Saturday afternoon. Fred suited-up in his best Hawaiian shirt and jorts and waddled his fat ass over to the party.

After arriving at the party and signing-up as an official rushee, he wasted no time speaking with some of the advisers who were flown in from across the country to establish the chapter. After introducing himself, he asked where the keg was.

An awkward silence fell over the group and several uncomfortable looks were exchanged before one advisor finally explained that rush events were dry. Fred was shocked and proceeded to express this.

It blows my mind that he managed to never figure this one out. He had seen two classes go through rush at this point, and surely he must have heard someone talking about this. Furthermore, I don't understand why he ask someone the whereabouts of a keg if no one around him was drinking.

Apparently he managed to never figure out that alcohol is not served at the official rush events, rather at the unofficial events held later in the evening. After his display, he didn’t have to worry about being invited to one of those.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Careful Where You Swing That

Despite having gone to a reputable college, Fred still does not have a basic grasp of the English language. The one thing which annoyed me above all else was his inability to correctly pronounce the word “ask.” He would pronounce it as “axe.” This lead to many situations in which I was embarrassed to introduce him to anyone I know. I didn't want people to think I was dating a retard.

This did, however, make for some hilarious conversations.

Him: “I axed him about it, but he never got back to me.”
Me: “I don’t blame him. If you went all Lizzy Borden on my ass, I wouldn’t want to talk to you again either.”

or

Him: "I'll axe tomorrow."
Me: "Did you accept a job as a lumberjack?"

or

Him: "Did you axe yet?"
Me: "Do I look like Paul Bunyan to you?"

or

Him: "I'll axe"
Me: "You'll axe what? That wood in the backyard?"

or

Him: "I axed everyone there..."
Me: "This is beginning to sound like a B horror flick."


I used to have a ton of these, but right now I can't seem to remember very many.

I asked him numerous times to please learn to speak like he had at least an iota of intelligence and class. I begged and pleaded with him on this issue for two years. At first, he would roll his eyes and repeat the sentence, emphasizing the word "ask" to the point where people around us would snicker at him.

After awhile, I suppose he realized his years of New Jersey trash upbringing could not be corrected by me, so he brought to my attention the one linguistic fact he had ever learned.

"It's a holdover, pronouncing it as 'axe.' That's how people said in in Elizabethan times."

Congratulations, Dr. Dumbass. Now I don't think you sound like a derelict, I think you sound sophisticated, like you are reciting Shakespeare to me. Oh baby, read me a sonnet.

In case you haven't noticed, no one speaks in Middle English anymore, Asstard.