Codependent Collegian

Trombley: Tail-less once again

(Columbus, OH) Ohio State sophomore Chad Trombley thought that the climate change event known as Earth Hour might assist him in breaking his three-month period of unintentional celibacy.

"I was trying to play the 'sensitive green guy' angle," he told Codependent Collegian reporters. "Unfortunately, it appears that all the skanks at Kappa Delta just don't give a shit about the environment."

Trombley explained his failed seductive approach with the sorority sisters.

"Pretty basically, I reminded them that Earth Hour meant that all lights were off, and wouldn't it be great to make our own heat?" he said, pausing to pop a zit in the mirror. "But it was all: 'Ummmm, no thanks' and 'I have a boyfriend' and 'Ewww! Get away from me, you freak!' I guess the Kappa Delta sluts just want the polar bears to die off and shit."

Trombley has not given up on environmentalism as a tool in ass-tappery.

"There's always Earth Day," he noted. "I'm sure I can work the phrase 'plant a tree' into my macking. Besides, maybe I should start hitting up some of those Birkenstock-wearing 'Free the Planet' hotties over at the Quad. Since they like wood so much, I'll bet they can't keep their hands off the Chadster's pole."

Labels: Earth Hour, Ohio State

A Codependent Collegian Guest Editorial
by Victoria Swanson, James Madison University Class of 2009

Swanson: Keeps Her Excesses in Check

College is a time of experimentation when young people experiment with new things and try to figure out who they are. Often this leads to extreme partying, where today’s social drinking or casual drug use can quickly become tomorrow’s substance abuse. That’s why I follow the motto “know when to say when” as soon as puke’s involved.

I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’m in school to earn good grades and eventually complete my degree plan. So if I have a major exam in biology, say, at 10 a.m. on a Tuesday, I know the night before needs to be spent making flashcards and reviewing my lecture notes. Well, until Bethany finishes the jello shooters and the Kappa guys come over and we play a few dozen rounds of peer pong. But at the first sign of vomit—and I’m very strict about this—I put myself to bed, even if it’s only 3 a.m. and the party is still going strong.

And being a woman of conviction, I follow this same policy on the weekends, too. If Ashley happens to land some high-quality Argentinean blow, and I ralph up an omelet Sunday morning after a 48-hour club-hop which may or may not have involved giving a bouncer a back-alley handjob, I know it’s time for some undisturbed rest and recuperation.

Sure, my peers may mock the fact that I’m a “lightweight,” or that I don’t “puke and pound” like many disciplined partiers, but I’ve worked too hard to let my education take a backseat. That’s why as soon as the vodka, diet pills, and stomach acid splatter my dorm carpet with the force of a volcano, I know it’s time to “say when” like a reasonable adult.

Labels: drinking, James Madison University

Guest Editorial by Tre Drummond,
Penn State Class of 2010

Listen up: I've gone to church for a long, long time, ever since my parents had me baptized, so don't give me no crap about being a heathen or anything. Jesus H. Christ is in my house, you feel me?

And it is because I am down with the Savior of the World that I know that Jesus would not want us sitting around moping on the weekend of His death. He would want us celebrating His holy life and shit, and that means packing away at least a case of beer a day apiece on Easter Weekend.

Look - wasn't Jesus the one who turned the water into wine? If He wasn't cool with maintaining 24/7 buzzery, He would have turned water into Kool-Aid or orange soda or some other non-alcoholic shit.

And what about weed? You just know that Jesus and the apostles stoked some major bluntage. Why the hell else would they be eating crappy food in the desert, and not out working real jobs and shit? 'Cuz they were stoners, that's why. And Genesis 1:29 says it all: "Behold, I have given you every herb-bearing seed which is upon the face of all the earth."

Dude, even the Heavenly Father was all about smoking a fatty!

So, I propose that we remember the memory of Jesus Christ by getting as fucked up as we can and staying that way until, like, Easter Wednesday and shit. It's the least we can do to keep alive the legend of the Original Stoners.

Labels: Easter

Yauncey's man-crush on Brady makes the loss even more painful

(Boston, MA) After watching his team lose in the Super Bowl to the New York Giants, longtime fan and Boston University sophomore Jared Yauncey fell into the depths of despair.

"It was worse than when my dog Trixie died," he acknowledged.

Seeking professional help for his grief, Yauncey learned about the heralded five stages of grief developed by Swiss psychologist Dr. Elizabeth Kübler-Ross.

"Clearly, I was still stuck in the denial phase, not wanting to believe that my beloved Pats could somehow lose to that... that other team," he said, still unable to speak the name of the opposing Giants. "I walked around for weeks with my 'Super Bowl XLII Champion Patriots' T-shirt, unable to come to grips with this tragedy."

Yauncey said that the next two stages - anger and bargaining - passed rather quickly.

"Oh, I wanted to punch Tom Brady in the face for about a week," he admitted. "And I begged, pleaded, and tried evry trick in the book to get God to let the Pats win in a do-over Super Bowl, but it was pretty clear after checking the sports pages every day that He wasn't listening to my grieving negotiations. The heavenly Fucker."

Yauncey added that he is "not quite ready" for Stage Five: Acceptance.

"I'm almost through the depression, which is Stage Four," he said. "But how do you learn to accept what has been stolen from you? I mean, that 18-0 start was etched in stone, like the Ten Commandmnets or something. During the depression phase, you will cry a lot. Crying is normal, and tears are healing. It's important to let yourself cry when you feel like it, even in the middle of a political science lecture or while playing World of Warcraft. Maybe your guild members will get pissed, but you have to be ready to move on to a new life and let the other life remain in the past."

Labels: Super Bowl XLII

A Codependent Collegian Poetry Feature
By Markus Trufant, Boston College Class of 2011

Trufant: The Keats of the College Crush?

World, for too long I’ve pined in secret longing for Stacey James, the most bodacious hottie on campus. But no more shall I remain silent, jacking my raw Excalibur to pixilated camera phone pics that I’ve stealthily taken of her walking across the quad.

Today I broadcast my soul’s deepest desire to the cosmos and cast myself at fate’s altar, as this poem is the only way to adequately express my love.

To wit:

Stacey, bodacious Stacey
my loins quake at the very sight
of your ribbed halter top, and I must
penetrate your darkness
with my Excalibur.

Excalibur, countless nights
we’ve unsheathed for duty’s call
while you’ve partied off-campus
with that douche-bag Brent Harrison
and all those Sigma dudes who only want
your body, not your inner wonder.

I would bathe you in kisses, tears
and the mercury of my gonads
if only you’d return my earth-shattering
gaze, my look of adoration,
the splendor splendor splendor
of my aching want.

This hour until my last, Stacey Jacobs
this body, heart, and mind are yours,
every fibrous atom of my being
just to feel your wan, genteel hand
sliding warmly down my pants.

Labels: love poetry, poetry