Codependent Collegian

A Princeton student must be given extra break time during a law licensing exam to milk his purple headed yogurt slinger, a New Jersey appeals court judge ruled today.

The student, Rod Johnson, had sued the National Board of Law School Examiners after it denied his request for more than the standard 45 minutes of allotted breaks during the nine-hour exam, which he will take over two days.

Johnson said he risked medical complications if he did not perform spooge reduction techniques every two to three hours.

"Pretty basically, when stiffage occurs, my brain cannot perform beyond the most primal of functions," he noted. "But after the pouring of the man chowder, it's all good. I think it's awesome that I'll be able to compete with the non-woodage students now, instead of having to contend with a spontaneous tent-pitching every few hours, surrounded by all those short skirts and pushup bras."

Labels: man gravy

Guest Editorial by Caleb Norrington
Penn State Class of 2008

You probably heard about Karen Robbins, the South Carolina teacher who was jailed last weekend and charged with three counts each of criminal sexual conduct with a minor and committing a lewd act on a child.

It seems like a regular epidemic of these sex-crazed teachers, like every school's got two or three horny-ass MILFs banging every teenaged pecker in sight.

What I want to know is this: where were all these itching-to-bang teachers when I was in high school?

Back in the day at Theodore Roosevelt High School, we never had kinky Chemistry teachers or lustful Language teachers. No sir, we had 65-year-old Mrs. Tatum and her knee-high support hose, or that lesbian gym teacher Miss Freley. We couldn't get laid by a teacher if we looked like Brad Pitt and offered them fifty grand.

Except for Mr. Perry, the custodian, who was always trying to corner the work-study guys and "bump" into them with his boner right there in his pants. Yes, I must admit we could have gotten bent over a toilet in the boys' bathroom by Mr. Perry, but getting cornholed by a semi-literate pedophile ain't exactly my idea of "hot sex," you know?

So I end this missive with a plea to the teachers from all the nation's randy high school freshmen: If you are going to give it up to students, I say be sure to spread yourself around as much as possible. There's a whole generation of American boys just chomping at the bit for some teacher sex.

Labels: Karen Robbins, teacher sex, Theodore Roosevelt High School

(Columbus, OH) The roommates of Ohio State sophomore Evan Ingersoll are used to the noxious fumes produced by the engineering major, but the rectal trumpet he blew Thursday night was on a "previously unimaginable scale of wickedness," according to witnesses.

"Sometimes he rips 'em so nasty they make your eyes water," noted roommate Josh Hartman. "Still, this one was epic, but in a really, really, bad way, like waking up after a hard night of drinking and finding out you just slept with your sister."

Ingersoll admitted that he was "kind of embarassed" by his rankness.

"Dude: As soon as the evil funk wafted up to my nostrils, I knew we were in some serious trouble," he recalled, visibly nauseous at the memory. "My head started this weird twitching, and it was all I could do not to blow chunks in the emergency exit."

Ingersoll, who attributed the anal tsunami to "a combination of Taco Bell and cheap beer," said that campus security warned him that future stink torpedos could bring administrtive sanctions.

"Hey man: it's not like I can control it or anything," he complained. "Sometimes you've just got to let it rip, to feel it gurgling in your loins, to feel it rushing out your sphincter, the sheer joy of being alive, you know?"

Labels: farts, Ohio State

Left: Courtier not pleased

(Ann Arbor, MI) While climbing out of the shower last week, Megan Courtier made a “life-changing” discovery: the sudden appearance of a gray hair in her nether regions.

The second-year sociology doctoral candidate confided her secret shame to Codependent Collegian reporters.

“I’m only 26, so there’s no good reason for this to be happening to me,” she sobbed. “I may never be able to be intimate with a man ever again.”

The particular location of the stray gray hair was especially disconcerting to Courtier.

“If it was on the top of my head I might never have noticed it, and it could have even made me look more professional,” she said, looking away. “But down there?!?!? Now I look like a wrinkled old whore.”

Courtier admitted that she was “clueless” as to her next moves.

“I’ve heard that two more will grow if I pluck this one,” she said. “And I also heard that the hair-color companies put a gray-promoting chemical in their dyes to make you have to keep buying more and more ‘Gray-B-Gone.’”

The hair problem has also strained her relationship with fellow Michigan grad student and boyfriend Matt Steenberg, said Courtier.

“Matt hasn’t even touched me since I showed him yesterday,” she said. “But there is no way I am going to live a lie. He’ll either have to love me for who I am or get the hell out.”

Labels: grad students, pubic hair, University of Michigan

Subcomandante Bob knows that some of you, shall we say, do not always stay on the right side of the law. Still, just because a person has made a mistake, or has been unfairly targeted for prosecution, does not mean that one should go into court like a soon-to-be-slaughtered lamb.

The LA legal firm Kestenbaum, Eisner, & Gorin has lawyers with a combined 50 years worth of experience, and they specialize in defending criminal and DUI cases in Southern Californian courts. If you are looking for Los Angeles Criminal Defense Attorneys | California DUI Lawyers | Criminal & DUI Law Specialists, be sure to check out Kestenbaum, Eisner, & Gorin. These are some of the top legal minds in the business - including former prosecutors and a UCLA law professor - and they know how the system works from both the inside and the outside.

A Guest Editorial by Devin Briar
University of Toledo, Class of 2010

Briar: Crusading Against the Tyranny of Textbooks and Sobriety

I’m a sophomore this year, which means I’m not playing by any of those namby-pamby rules anymore. I’m a man about campus, a budding scholar, and most importantly, a free-thinker.

And had I bought the textbook for Professor Maguire’s economics course, I could have totally aced that first exam he gave last week.

Let me first say that I didn’t bomb the thing. I earned a respectable 62%, which is still a passing grade. And secondly, everyone knows that Maguire’s lectures are straight-up chapter outlines, so why the hell should I dish out $119 when I’m gonna have a PhD summarize the readings every time I walk into class?

See, the bigger issue is that college textbooks are a scam. Publishers charge exorbitant amounts of money because, as they claim, it’s pretty expensive to produce a 743-page book with lots of color charts and graphs. Well, that may be true—but there’s an added fee for the interactive CD, and then the college bookstore adds their markup. By the time you throw in sales tax, you might as well have bought a triple-chamber bong studded with emeralds.

So if I just take meticulous notes in all my classes this semester, I can maintain a respectable 1.5 GPA without buying a single book. And as I’ve already said—it’s about standing up for what I believe in. That, and making sure I have enough cash to score some Kind Bud every Friday.

Labels: textbooks, University of Toledo

By Dr. Martin Dalloway, Professor of Communication
American University, Washington, D.C.

You know, I’ve been teaching for nearly thirty years, and I’ve always appreciated the rich diversity in student names. From Seamus to Shaniqua to that Charles Running Bear kid I had back in ’98, each name says something unique and special about its bearer.

But in recent years, all these friggin’ Baby Boomers keep giving their kids cutesy bourgeois monikers, and goddamn it, I’m sick of all these Chads and Ambers.

In any given mass communications course, I only have about 35 students. This semester I have four Ambers in one section. Fucking four! That means at 10 a.m., twice a week, I have to remember which Amber is a disgusting fat-body, which Amber has the nose ring, which Amber would rather fall on a sword than speak in class, and which Amber has tits the size of cantaloupes.

Whatever happened to Bernadette, and Gertrude, and Miranda? Sure, they’re a bit literary, but it’s a damn shame that the only place you can find such graceful nomenclature is in the slow-shuffled halls of a retirement home. Riley, Madison, Hailey—shit, why not just put a sign on your kid’s back saying “I was born in 1989 and care more about my hair than doing homework”?

And don’t get me started on these teenage guys. Jesus Tapdancing Christ. There’s Bret with one T, Brett with two Ts, all manner of Chads and Coopers and Ethans and Logans. I could puke last night’s halibut until my fucking balls retracted.

Here’s the bottom line: surely parents don’t want their child to be the gazillionth Billy or Liz in this world, but have some discretion. Stop thinking these Barnes & Noble name books will help you unearth some hallowed prenomen never before bestowed upon a child. Why not look into your family’s ancestry and pick a name with some actual significance?

Because honestly, if I have another class roster full of Calebs and Brittaneys, heads will fucking roll.

Labels: American University, professors

By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue Editor

Milligan: All Out of Material

(Toledo, OH)—University of Toledo sophomore Owen Milligan has endured a long and brutal summer due to his lack of contact with young women, which has reduced his masturbatory explorations to quick palm-jobs to whatever mildly erotic material he can unearth in his parent’s home.

Thankfully, Milligan’s sexual hell of “chaffed, stilted whacking” has come to an abrupt end, as his return to the university this week was greeted by a bevy of voluptuous coeds, all clad in the latest skank attire.

“Man, June was a breeze because I still had this vivid memory of Tracy Kiplinger passing out at the final exam kegger, when her left nipple totally slid out of her halter top,” Milligan explained. “But since my parents don’t have cable TV or the internet, I was in a world of hurt by July 4th. Do you know what it’s like to beat your meat to your little sister’s copy of Cosmo Teen? Sir, I don’t wish that shit on nobody.”

Toledo Coeds Prepare for Another Year of Stimulation

Mulligan’s reintegration with “hot coed ass” has not only reinvigorated his spirits, but also recharged his sexual potency.

“I know it’s just Toledo, but I swear—there’s more T&A crawling around here than Cinemax softcore,” Mulligan boasted. “And maybe if my parents weren’t such cheap fucks, I could have watched some Cinemax softcore and not come back to college with a boner the size of the Eiffel Tower.”

Labels: Sophomores, Toledo, University of Toledo

By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue Editor

Left: Chambliss going stag at his senior prom last spring

(Ann Arbor, MI)—University of Michigan freshman Owen Chambliss has always been one to jump on internet bandwagons: ICQ, Instant Messenger, and MySpace have all suffered the wrath of his pathetic, stolid life.

However, the recent popularity of YouTube—an endless archive of streaming video—has rendered the no-talent Chambliss unable to participate in this year’s hottest online trend.

“Have you seen that Chinese dude shred through Pachelbel’s Canon on electric guitar?,” Chambliss sighed. “He was a fucking God. That guy is gonna have a record contract soon. Me, I cut myself flossing every night. I’m screwed.”

Chambliss added that he has "tried a couple of times" to put together an initial video.

"I thought I would film myself in my morning routine, but when I edited it there was nothing worth posting," he said, looking down. "Then my roommate was going to tape me jerking off to "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," but I shot my load before the chorus."

Chambliss’ small circle of associates heartily concur that his life lacks cinematic zest.

“Sophomore year of high school he got it in his head that he wanted to be a jock,” remarked friend and fellow Michigan freshman Chester “Zitty” Daniels. “He’s 6’ 2”, 119 lbs., and has the hand-eye coordination of a drunken albatross. The JV practice squad ran a clinic on his ass that day — I can’t remember, though, if he broke three ribs or four. Shit, I wish I had a video of that.”

Labels: college freshman, University of Michigan, You Tube

By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue Editor

Holster: On the Clock and Praying for Death

(Pittsburgh, PA)—Jordan Holster, a University of Pittsburgh dropout and local Wal-Mart employee, is described by many as “a disgruntled life-hating prick.”

But nothing riles Holster more than the first weeks of the fall semester, when he must endure hordes of smug college kids gregariously spending their parents’ money on dorm accoutrements and school supplies, and he has no choice but to ring them up.

“God I hate these fucking brats, and the Carnegie Mellon kids are the worst,” huffed a belligerent Holster as he chugged a Mountain Dew on his lunch break. “They get the most ridiculous shit imaginable—overpriced desk lamps with twisty necks, cheetah-patterned bean bag chairs—and act as if this crap were somehow essential to their college success. Please. Maybe if my parents gave me a Visa card with a ten grand limit instead of kicking me out of the basement when I turned sixteen, I’d have a philosophy degree and pair of wireless headphones too.”

Holster added that the most excruciating aspect of his job is bearing the indifference shown by attractive coeds when they choose his checkout register.

“I know I’m not the best looking dude on the planet, but some of these chicks are straight-up ice vixens,” Holster lamented. “No hello, no eye contact—I’m just the Wal-Mart monkey ringing up their tampons and Ramen noodles. I can’t freaking wait until midterms when these bitches start flunking out and need cash. Maybe when they’re filling out an application here, and I finally make assistant manager, they’ll think a little differently of ol’ Jordan Holster. Maybe then.”

By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue Editor

Jacobs After Another Meth-Induced Arm Slashing

(State College, PA)—Penn State junior Matt McKinney was devastated to learn that after two dreadful semesters on academic probation, he would lose his dorm selection privileges due to his fledgling academic performance. And to add insult to injury, McKinney was informed just last week that his soon-to-be-roommate was of the worse breed: a freshman.

However, all of this changed when McKinney actually met his new roommate Patrick Jacobs, whose depression and drug use are so severe that an impending suicide may land McKinney on the Dean’s List.

“I used to think it was an urban myth—you know, your roommate hangs himself with a belt or something and you get straight A’s for the semester,” McKinney explained while alphabetically arranging his collection of pornographic DVDs. “But then I found a copy of the college catalog online, and damn if there isn’t a clause in there saying exactly that. God bless Penn State! Now if I can only keep this kid Patrick cutting himself when he’s high, I’m golden baby.”

McKinney continued to outline the benevolent outcomes of Jacobs’ mental illness and self-inflicted violence.

“Yeah, I mean, after we moved in he tried to talk to me about his dad smacking him around and stuff, and insinuated that there might have been some sexual abuse, but that means he’s only closer to doing the deed,” McKinney excitedly revealed. “Shit. If his old man pounds him in the ass, and every morning he’s downing enough dope to kill a pony, there’s no way he’ll make it to midterms. Maybe after the kegger this weekend I’ll make a noose and, you know, casually leave it on his dresser.”

Labels: meth, Penn State, suicide