February 7, 2008
Wallet Condom, Your Time Has Come
By Derek RochesterUniversity of Maryland Class of 2011
Rochester: Harder Than a Frozen Ribeye
Wallet Condom, we’ve been through some amazing times together: senior prom, the freshman social last year, that awesome kegger last fall when Tina Higgins almost banged us but then started puking all over her own tits.
So with your expiration date less than a week away, I swear this pledge before man and God alike: I will lose my virginity this weekend, Wallet Condom, and it shall be with your stretchy goodness sheathing my member.
As a sophomore in college, I’ve had my fair share of sexual liaisons—over-the-panty clit rubs, backseat handjobs, and plenty of supple young boob suckling. But every time I come close to actual penetration, some ridiculous series of events happens, like the chick starts crying about her break-up with Brad, or we realize we’re late for a major exam, or my stupid mom calls and I have to answer my cell because she’s getting chemotherapy and the drugs make her hallucinate that I’ve died in a stampede or something.
But no more cock-blocks. This weekend, I will don the dopest threads, spray an entire can of Axe on my man-parts, and work the mojo until some willing vixen opens her meticulously trimmed snatch to my jizz viper.
To this end, Wallet Condom, I promise to assemble the perfect polo-and-visor combo that will yield us such voluptuous treasure. Oh my tattered and slightly oblong friend, I shall not fail again.
Labels: University of Maryland, wallet condom
June 30, 2007
Dorm Mattresses to Remain Filthy and Defiled for Fall Term
by Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue EditorSemen, Sweat, and Snot? Just Flip It Over
(College Park, MD)—Despite another long year of bacteria, fluids, and general body soil, the University of Maryland has once again chosen to defer a rigorous cleaning of dorm mattresses in an attempt to lessen budgetary strain.
The move, however, has been met with stern resistance from a large swath of the student body, who have expressed their “horror and outrage” at the low sanitary standards of their beloved institution.
“Do you know what people do on those mattresses?” huffed Brian Parker, a junior majoring in psychology. “I knew a chick—who will remain nameless—who like, had a fucking miscarriage in her sleep last semester. All that dead baby juice just went everywhere, man. What’s nastier, I heard from Vinny [McDodd, my former roommate] that she had a huge gang-bang like, two weeks later on the same bed. And these bureaucrats aren’t gonna clean that shit? Brother, it doesn’t get nastier than that.”
Remarkably, even students with a reputation for low hygienic standards decried the university’s decision and await some form of reprisal.
“Man, I had a week back in April when I didn’t even shower,” boasted sophomore and Phi Betta Kappa vice president Stan Berkowitz. “My ass was nastier than an Auschwitz body pile, but you know, I wasn’t asking anyone to share my funk. Except for Cindy Matthews, but she wouldn’t give it up because she’s a goddamn Catholic prude. But my point is, no one should have to sleep on my shart stains, you dig? Maybe I’ll stop showering again as a form of protest against these fascist pigs.”
Labels: College Park, mattresses, University of Maryland
April 20, 2007
Student Finally Gets a Clue That Techno Is Lame
By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue EditorCathrill and His Whacked-Out Posse Circa ‘98
(College Park, MD) Like many of his peers, University of Maryland graduate student Ian Cathrill was quite the hard-core raver while in high school during the late 1990s, and affectionately considers the music of that time period to be “the soundtrack of life.”
Sadly, while the rest of the world moved on to more substantial genres of music in the 21st century, it has taken Cathrill the better half of a decade to realize that his beloved techno music is completely lame, and that the industry of cool has passed him by.
“Man, even after all these years, I still catch myself listening to all those sweet-ass albums,” Cahtrill remarked while whirring his hands around an invisible orb. “Prodigy, Aphex Twin, The Stay Up Forever Collective were like, the spirit of my generation. And by spirit, I mean the artists we thumped while rolling on E.”
Cathrill noted that the rave scene was not unlike the love-peace movement of the late 1960s.
“You know, hippies used to get stoned a lot and grope each other while rocking out,” Cathrill purported. “But while they spoke out against the war in Vietnam, and like, discrimination n’ stuff, my peeps were into glow sticks. And pacifiers. And block-dropping beats. And dreams of scoring a FFM orgy with some Ecstasy-scarfing hotties, eager to give me an epic blowjob. In fact, I still have some polaroids from this one party back in ’96 that’ll totally blow your mind with its coolness.”
And while Chathrill’s few friends have tried to illustrate the mounting irrelevancy of his beloved techno, it seems, at least for now, that Cathrill will remain firm in his commitment to lame-ass drum-and-bass grooves with scant lyrical integrity.
“Billy, they can slander me, my style, even the baggy cargo pants I wear to class,” Cathrill proclaimed. “But techno will come back. I know it will. When people finally realize how, how needless good songwriting is, they’ll come crawling back. And I’ll be here, my friend, getting stoned and eating Skittles.”
Labels: FFM, techno, University of Maryland
