Thursday, May 12, 2011

Dear Graduate Schools,

I’m writing this as a conciliatory note, so that we might be friends going forward. I am not mad about your rebuttals. Oh no…there is no reason to have hard feelings. In fact, I’m just delighted that I got to know you, if only for a fleeting moment. It was very enjoyable visiting your nice, clean learning environs – getting to know the other students and professors that I might have come to know.

I suppose there is a part of me that wants to understand. What went wrong between us? We were getting along so great. Did I not name-drop or use the word “leverage” enough those times we met? I certainly tried to be intelligent and pleasantly affable…but where did I go wrong?

No matter, I’m sure we’ll both go on to bigger and better things. Me, especially. Yes, believe it or not, I know you will be disappointed to know, but it’s not so much that you shut me out, but that I had already decided we were not for each other. You see…you didn’t make my cut. I will not be seduced by your green LEED certified buildings or perfect looking…whatever. I don’t need your group-thinking, cardigan wearing , polo shirt dawning student body. In fact I’m taking back all of the cardigans I bought last month at Gap and J. Crew. Seriously…how do you like me now!

Unlike your crisp, perfect business suits and case studies I have something that is not so easily put in a box – a brain. I am actually smart enough to coherently write an incoherent letter. Try that out in your writing for business management class! It’s called being a free thinker, dude! Yeah, I’m start my own school! It’ll be called the school of Rock!...wait that’s already been taken…and made into a movie. Well, I’m going to think of something to call it, and we won’t have environmentally friendly facilities, or teachers with German accents, or cardigans. And when we call for applications, we might let you apply.

So it’s been good writing to you grad schools. I’m glad we can both put this behind us. Check ya later,

Blake

p.s. To any graduate school recruiters that find this in a random Google search: This is obviously a satirical work. Don’t take it that seriously.

p.s.s. That first postscript was written to be funny.

p.s.s.s. If you are still confused refer to my first post script.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Yesterday I Pulled My Groin Muscle, and That's Okay

Our co-ed DC alumni network softball league started up yesterday. Each year alumni from more than 70 schools form teams in the DC area. Divisions are set, new rule clarifications are issued by the league officers – it’s a pretty well organized affair.

Yesterday, we played Bucknell. It’s been three years since I last played on the team, and a lot has changed since I left. Mainly, we got good. Three years ago we barely eked out five wins (out of 20 or so games). Last season Georgia finished seventh in the league.

Two years ago we started acquiring some new talent, including a new pitcher that has special throws for each batter. Keep in mind this is slow pitch softball. I never know you could have throws in slow pitch.

He also hits the ball a mile nearly every time he steps up to the plate. If you couldn’t tell, this guy (named Marieo) is my new hero.

While I’m glad the team has risen so far in the ranks, I was disheartened to learn that when I guy goes off to the Peace Corps to serve his country, he doesn’t retain his place in the batting order like one does his job. Before I had been a solid top five hitter, and how I only merited eleventh place in the order.
My first at bat I swung too hard at the first pitch (a mistake in itself) and knocked a slow moving dribbler that rolled up to the pitcher. Out. End of the inning.

My second at bat I resolved not to swing until the pitcher put at least one strike on the board, forcing me to swing after that (two strikes is an out in our league). First pitch: ball. Second pitch: ball. Third: strike. Time to start swinging. The fourth pitch was pretty good, about waist high over the plate. I made an even swing and knocked a line drive between the shortstop and third baseman. I took my base. Now this is what I remember of softball.

The next batter hit another line drive and as I approached second base, I heard our third base coach telling me to continue on to third. Only I hadn’t given myself the right angle for rounding second, so instead, I tried to step on second and push off the base to begin my progression to third base.

Big mistake. I forgot our bases weren’t anchored to the ground. The base went sliding and my right leg went moving farther from the base of my body. I felt a pain run through my body, made a quick skip, and then hopped my way awkwardly to third base.

Groin pull. It was pretty obvious after stretching it a bit. This had never happened to me. A few teammates asked me if I was alright, and then our coach motioned for someone to sub-in and pinch run for me. I acquiesced.
Since then I’ve found my groin pull to not be such a bad thing. I can still move forward and back without too much pain – just a little discomfort. I get to make a joke when girls at the game asked me if I was okay, like “can you help me with this? I just need to warm it up a bit.”

I have an excuse for ambling along now, whereas before I would just be seen as a lollygagger.

Lesson Learned: Groin pull = acceptable excuse for lollygagging

Walking like a pirate or cowboy is enjoyable. I even find myself hoping this groin pull sticks around a few more days.

In the last inning we were down by two runs, and with one out we came to Marieo in the lineup. We knew the pressure was on him a little bit because he’d only hit one home run on the day (he usually hits home runs almost every time). He tightened his gloves and stepped up to bat. After letting a couple of balls pass him by, he let loose a massive cut and sent the ball rocketing over the center fielder. I think she was still running when Marieo crossed home plate. Georgia wins. A groin is pulled. Lollygagging is acceptable. All is right in the world.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

New Starbucks Book Includes Injectable Syringe Filled with Caffeine

The Starbucks Corporation has begun selling the book by its founder, Howard Schultz, with a small syringe filled with pure caffeine that the reader can readily inject into their veins. Initially, the short non-fiction novel was sold by itself, but only 7 copies were sold throughout the more than 15,000 shops. “When I come to Starbucks, or ingest anything associated with the store, I want to get some kind of fix…that’s just something I come to expect every time I set foot inside a Starbucks,” says a random customer.

Schultz, who was disappointed at first with the weak sales of the book, intentionally spilled a scalding Americano coffee on a new employee, and was said to have instantly felt better about himself. Sales of the book have picked up in recent weeks.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Jefferson City, Missouri Named Top Meth Head Vacation Spot

The small town of Jefferson City, MO nestled on the southern banks of the Missouri River is gaining a reputation as the “Sonoma Valley of Methamphetamines,” as meth heads across the Midwest and Southern states have begun pouring into the area to sample some of the local forbidden rock.

Ever-so-popular is the Meth Tour, an afternoon of riding bikes through the beautiful Missouri countryside on a visit to three meth labs. The tour is said to have a “speak easy” feel, as visitors knock on storm cellars, pass through old barns, and climb down hidden passageways to view the making of the substance we know today as crystal meth. A canoe tour opened up just last month. Visitors begin the day at one lab on the northern side of the Missouri River where a meth sampling is included in the day’s tour and then kayak across the river to visit a second lab. “I’ve never seen anyone paddle that fast,” comments Billy Tomlinson, a local boy scout that lives along the tour route.

Locals are divided on how the new meth tourism industry impacts the town. “It’s just strange to look outside my window at 2am and see a bunch of kids chattering at a mile a minute outside my neighbor’s garage,” says Sally Harris, a local resident. “I figure it’s money in the local economy; even if they are a bunch of rock heads,” says another.

John Watkins, a visitor who arrived to down last week in his near-broken down El Camino from Athens , Tennessee insists that while Missouri has some beautiful meth labs, the Tennessee meth scene is on its way up. “Tennessee is probably three years behind Jefferson City right now, but we have just the right amount of dank, spacious old storm cellars that are just perfect for meth production,” said Watkins while grinding his teeth forcefully for no apparent reason other than being as high as a kite in a Midwest storm season.

Tourists can find more information on the various destination on the Meth Trail through Yelp.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Inventor of Glitter Sent to Hell

Henry Ruschmann, the renowned inventor of glitter, and founder of Meadowbrook Inventions, a company that manufactures the product, was abruptly sent straight to hell last week.

The decision was apparently made by the Angel of Death himself, who after aiding his young apprentice with a school project, made the unilateral decision to pluck Mr. Ruschmann from his position ensconced in Heaven. The decision by Death actually goes against standing rules of the universe, thereby forcing Death to abdicate his rule as the Supremely Feared Being. When asked about his somewhat puzzling decision to banish Mr. Ruschmann to the fiery inferno at the risk of his own job, Death was said comment, “Sometimes you gotta take one for the team.”

Death, formerly a used car salesman when he was tapped for the position, appeared resigned to his decision and somewhat elated to know his reign was going out on a positive note. There were burst of jubilation in the streets when Ruschmann’s fate was announced.

John Hall, a retired school teacher, who suffered six nervous breakdowns as a result of the shiny, sparkly substance known popularly as glitter, was said to have risen from his wheelchair and spontaneously started singing the words to the Mariah Carey song “Butterfly” after hearing the news. In New York City, where many-a-divorce was caused by the glittery residue, strip clubs featured half-priced lap dances and free lunch buffets. Elsewhere, jubilant citizens gathered for a celebratory firebombing of Meadowbrook Inventions facilities while police looked on with grim satisfaction. “It’s been a long time coming,” said the Chief of Police in Bernardsville, New Jersey, “I mean they did it to themselves.”

When reached for comment in the fiery depths of Hell, Ruschmann defended his lifetime of development and perfection of the manufacturing of glitter. “I only wanted to bring joy to anyone and everyone involved in making crafts and other beautiful ornaments,” said Ruschmann just before being violently dunked in a vat of hot glue and then smothered with multi-colored bits of glitter. The other residents of Hell are said not to associate with Ruschmann.

Finally, in other news, Alfred Nobel, the inventor of TNT was released from Hell on parole today.