My Last Day as a Punk

Tomorrow I turn the big 2-0. That means that today is my last day alive as a no good, punk teenager. It finally hit me today. I've been a teenager for the past 7 years, and in 6 hours, those wonderful days are officially behind me. I'm not really sure how I feel about it. Because on one hand, I LOVED my teenage years. 90% of my fondest memories come from this time. And it felt so cool to get crazy and do bad stuff (use your imaginations, people). Because you know, I'm a teenage guy and I'm up to no good. That really was the mindset. Now when I get wild it'll be like, shouldn't I be figuring out what I want to do with my life? Because really, I don't know. 20 years have gone by, and all I have to show for it are some scars, chest hair, and a high school diploma. Now it's not like I'm upset. I know my life hasn't peaked, and I'm looking forward to the future. Getting out of college and taking on the real world is so daunting, but if there's one thing I love, it's bringing out my absolute best and rising to meet challenges. But Spring Break is upon us, and I'm going to take this time to forget about working towards my future and indulge in the instantly-gratifying pleasures that life has to offer. Because tomorrow is my birthday. What a way to start the break! And since I'm the only one of my buddies from back home who went away to college, I know they are going to have a party waiting for me, with the beers cold and the ladies hot. So as I look back at the past 7 years I think it's appropriate to send them off in a blaze of glory. I'm the last of my friends to turn 20, so a hard night of partying as my friends and I become drunken valkyries will send our teenage days out into Valhalla, the land of eternity. And then the next morning we'll return to earth, where there will be much suffering and gnashing of teeth...well, really more like groaning and barfing, but you get the symbolism. But don't expect any wise words from me directed toward any teens out there reading this. I'm not going to act like I discovered the meaning of growing up, because for one, I haven't finished growing up, and second, I spent most of my teenage days living for the moment and never paid attention to the lessons I could've learned. I guess the only thing I really learned is that I wouldn't change a thing. I hope everyone else has learned this too. So here it is, my last act as a punk teen:
Professor Strickland, this one's for you!

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Kiss me, I'm Irish and I'm sick of your shit

"I've been a wild rover for many's the year.
And I spent all me money on whiskey and beer.
And when I'm returning with golden great store,
I NEVER will play the wild rover no more."

Lyrics of an old Irish song, which has been around for God knows how long, and has been redone and reworked by countless ensembles, and will surely be around for many more years. This song has had a special meaning in my life. I've known it since I was little, but it has really started to come to life in my teenage years. This song is what I promise myself pretty much every St. Patrick's day since I was 12. Another St. Patrick's Day has come and gone and let me say, I will never get that crazy again. I know what you're thinking, "You just said you promise that every year." But I really mean it this time. I put up one hell of a fight, but St. Patrick kicked my ass again this year. I love St. Patrick's Day. It's the one day of the year where people are honored for being a foul-mouthed, drunk, womanizer. And for me, as no different from years passed, I embraced this honor.

March 17, 2006
Midnight: Pinched the SHIT out of my roommate for not wearing green.
1:00 am: Went to bed
9:00 am: Went to class
Noon: Went to class
1:oo pm: Cracked open the first, of many, beers
2:oo pm - 5:00 pm: Steady drinking with friends
5:00 pm: Enjoy a nice meal
5:30 pm: Back to the bottle
9:00 pm: Go out to a party with friends
9:00 pm - 3:00 am: Steady drinking, bad dancing, worse singing, surprisingly good flirting
3:00 am: Take the last shot of the night. Go to bed
It was a great day, although it was exactly like all other years (Except nobody got into a fight, fortunately). The next morning was not so great. Huge quantities of beer will make you sick the next morning, but huge quantities of green dye in the beer will make you wish you weren't born. However, morning vomit is much more pleasant when it's a bright festive green. All in all, I payed for my St. Patrick's Day, with my hangover, and with my now-empty wallet, and next year, I'll be sure to chill out a little. But even though I indulged in the stereotypical festivities of St. Patrick's Day, I still didn't abandon what the day is all about. St. Patrick's Day is important, not really so much for the saint, but for the country he represents. St. Pat's is a celebration of Ireland.
First of all, both sides of my family are Irish. NOT posers who wear shirts that say "Everyone loves and Irish girl" or "Irish guys do it better" year round. We're an Irish family. Yeah, we're proud of that, but I'm not going to be like, "Look at me. I'm Irish so that means I'm a rough scrapper from the mean streets of Cork. I identify with my downtrodden Irish brethren, and have experienced the harsh times in the land of my forefathers." The truth is, those kids who wear "Republic of Ireland" shirts or get shamrock tattoos are most likely half Irish or less, but wish they had the street cred. Now I'm not just hating, because I acknowledge that I have no street cred, but that's because our Irish ancestors endured the strife SO THAT WE DON'T HAVE TO!!! What a slap in the face for those who struggled so that we can live a better life. I'm declaring that I'm an American, with strong Irish roots, and I live a comfortable life, with every opportunity in that life, and I have never encountered prejudice because of my family's ethnicity. And for that I thank the millions of people who came from the land where they were persecuted only for their religion and nationality, to a country where they met parallel discrimination and faced the hardship, and have throroughly overcame all obstacles. The Irish have done it. They have made it in America. And that success, along with thanking St. Patrick for bringing to us the religion of Christ, is what St. Patrick's Day is all about.

So it's not just an EXCUSE to get drunk, but rather an opportunity to take pride in your roots, or to cheer on the country's honor, and celebrate in the appropriate Irish fashion. So drop the act, kids. You're one step below wrapping yourself in a green, white, and orange flag and doing a jig. Stop thinking you're a bare-knuckle boxer, don't call yourself a Mick, and don't flood your facebook profile with a schmillion Irish proverbs. Be proud of your heritage, but let's not go overboard.

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Getting the digits

A couple of weeks ago, I was at a party. It was a prett big party, and I had stolen a cup for the keg, as always, and I went upstairs to see a pretty blonde girl sitting on a couch alone. Surely, she must be waiting for someone to come back, I thought, there's an open spot RIGHT next to her. But I'm not one to pass on opportunity, so I took the seat. We started talking, at first just the polite crap. You know, the name, go to school at Mizzou?, what year are you?, just the normal stuff to get it out of the way. We keep talking and she's cool. She laughs at my jokes and seems genuinely interested in what I have to say, and she has a lot to say herself. At one point, she says "I like you. Let me give you my number before I get too drunk and forget." And she writes her number on my arm. I'm totally pumped. Really, I thought it might be going somewhere. Well it might have, until she said something like, "you said you're a second year, right?" I'm like, yeah. She says, "So a sophomore?" And I say, "well I just say second year so there's no confusion, because you know those losers who are like, I'm a sophomore, but really they are freshman just a sophomore by credits?" so she's like, "Ohhh, you're like a junior by credits?" and I say, "yeah, but whatever." I'm trying to dismiss it, as to try and be a little humble about it. Because it's really not a big deal at all anyway. But she says, "Ohhh, so you're a big smarty, aren't ya?" "No, it's nothing really." And she asks, "What's the capital of Norway?" "Oslo," I answer, just coincidentally I actually know European capitals really well. She's like, "Oh my God, that's the only capital I know and you just knew it off the top of your head???" "I guess," I said and just laughed. Then what she says next reveals the true ditz that has been subtley hinted at all night. What she says next totally turns me off and makes me want to get the hell out of there. She stops and thinks and then says:
"That's cool that you're smart because......being smart is cool."
In my head: "That's cool that you're smart because being smart is cool? Are you kidding me? Wow, that might be the least insightful thing anyone's ever had to stop and think about. Jesus, that was really dumb. Crap, now I've got her number on my arm, and she's waiting for me to say something. I gotta get the hell outta here. Think, Steve!"
So I pull out the best of my mental ability, and in my infinite cleverness and finesse, I said, "I'll be right back." And I got out of the house and did not look back. And I never saw that beautiful bimbo ever again. (KNOCK ON WOOD)

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FACEBOOK CONSPIRACY DISCOVERED

ATTENION FACEBOOK MEMBERS:

My older brother recently uncovered a facebook conspiracy. The other day, a girl named Claire Marshall added my brother Andy as a friend. He had no idea who the girl was. He confirmed the request and checked out her profile. She was an alumnus from WashU, and said she had just moved to the Chicago area. Her picture was of three girls with cowboy hats with her sorority letters on them, holding beers. A pretty standard picture, like every sorority chick has a million pictures exactly like that. But she has no other pictures, and I challenge anyone to find ONE sorority girl who doesn't have other pictures on facebook! The girl had not listed her birthday, which is weird because everyone knows that girls are ravenous fiends for birthday-wishes on their birthday, whose hunger for "happy birthdays" is never satisfied. But whatever, we continue with our investigation. Her interests were SO generic; shopping, partying with friends, movies, and music. Sounds to me like some old person's feeble attempt to describe what "the kids these days" are into. She describes herself as a workaholic (a word I HATE, because what the hell is workahol???) and says she is into Consulting. How vague, like anyone really knows what consulting entails anyway. But then, things really got interesting. All of her wall posts were from people writing things like, "Hey Claire. Have we met?" and "Sorry, but I can't remember ever meeting you." And she doesn't have a bunch of friends from WashU, but rather a selection of kids from all over the country. So my brother looks up the WashU student directory, which includes recent alumni, and she wasn't on it. But what could be going on here? Here's a theory. Claire Marshall is really a marketing firm. Think about it! So much of your marketing research is already done for you. It's all there: Your sex, age, race, religion, geographic location, interests, likes and dislikes, level of education, area of study, and all the information about target demographics that would make marketers skeet skeet their pants! And it's all written up, in a neat little report, ready to analyze. So I'm going to continue looking into this little miss Claire Marshall, but until then heed this warning. The Man is on facebook, and he's using you to further his agenda of corporate domination. So don't confirm anyone to friends that you don't know, or delete anyone who you've already confirmed. The suits are out there, and they'll do whatever it takes to get what they want. Nothing is sacred to them. Stand with me, people. The one thing they can't take is our resolve to NOT be taken advantage of.

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Defending My Title

A response to Donna's comment:

Thanks for the comment, Miss Strickland. I've been told many times by friends that my life is really random, that the weirdest things happen to me. It's hard for me to argue, because this is the only life I've known, and it's always been this way. The comment made was that, as my life is unpredictable, I should rethink the metaphor in my title because a hamster's wheel doesn't go anywhere. But what is the purpose of a hamster's wheel? And what is the purpose of my blog? One common answer: It's just something to do. I understand that this blog isn't going to change the world, and that your life won't be any different if you discover the philosophy of Waldo, or read about my Pigpennish lifestyle. But that's what I want this blog to be. I don't want it to go anywhere, because it's just about random thoughts or occurances. If perhaps I were making a blog about politics or the entire state of mankind, maybe I would want to represent it wth something more directional than a wheel that goes nowhere. But this is a blog about the often unappreciated pleasure of nothingness, and seemingly nothingness in day to day life is something to which I think we can all relate. Want to kill some time? Have a go on the Hamster's Wheel.

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Gehry's fish

The image that has been a recurrance in my life, in the way that the fish was for Frank Gehry, is the river. The area where I live is called unincorporated Jefferson county. It sucks when people ask where I'm from because I can never just say the name. I don't even live in a town. Basically, I live out in the woods, and if there's one thing about me which I'll never be able to escape, it's this: I am a river rat. I LOVE rivers. Rivers have always been in my life, and I can't imagine life without them. The river has been an force to enjoy, to respect, to fear, and to love. Many of my most memorable experiences in life revolve around the linear flow of water. I spent much of my chilhood at my grandma's house, which is right on the banks of a river, creatively named "the Big River." It's slow and muddy and would probably give the EPA a heart attack if they ever tested it. But whatever, my cousins and I all swam in it. I can remember spending countless hours watching the river go by. When the flood of '93 hit, I loved sitting and watching all the random junk floating by. Chairs, doors, a barbecue grill, a refridgerator, boats, once even a small house, were all things I watched the flood drag down the river. The devastation in the towns was shocking. When I was 5 I almost drowned in the Big River. Near our house is an old mill that no longer operates. The big water wheel is still there, and it's great to swim right above the dam. One day I was swimming there with my family and I stepped into a drop off and couldn't swim well enough to get back up. I distinctly remember looking around and seeing fish swim by as I desperately struggled for the surface. Then my mom saw my hand pop up and she grabbed it and saved me. Thanks, mama. But I never forgot how the river nearly took my life. Another important place in my life is Meramec State Park in Sullivan, Missouri. I go there every summer with my family and camp. The main attraction is the river. I have spent more time on this river than I have any other body of water. I know stretches of it by heart, where there are cool caves, and frigid springs, great cliffs to get your kicks jumping off, and not to brag but seriously, I know miles of it. It such a great place. In one trip down the river you can see huge gar swimming in the shallow currents, find random objects along the bottom, watch a blue heron snatching fish, swing off from rope swings, and there's a good chance you'll spot a few boobs along the way. And it's not just everything that comes with the river, the river itself is beautiful. My cousins and I spend hours sitting on the beach at night, just tossing rocks and talking about everything. The river is calm at night, except when you spot a lone deer bravely fording the river. It's such an ever changing force. It can playfully carry you along in an inner tube, or violently rise up and wipe out houses and cars. I've been on many rivers and although they are all basically alike, they are also very different. Each river has a unique personality, be it fast and swirling, or slow and flat, deep or shallow, narrow or wide, muddy or clear, warm or cold. There are so many aspects that make a river unique. And in this way I see that in people. We may all be basically alike, but everyone is unique. I've spent my life on these flowing channels, and I plan to spend the rest of it there.


The Big River in House Springs, MO.

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The SWEETest 8 bucks I ever made

The best 8 bucks I've ever made: After a good solid night of drinking, last Saturday, or technically Sunday, at like 4:30 in the morning, 7 friends and I decided to go to the Diner on Broadway. First of all, that place kicks ass. It's small and loud, and they have business hours of Midnight to 6 A.M. on weekends. They have literally forgone normal customers and cater directly to drunk college kids. They serve breakfast food any time, and it's really cheap! We walk in at this ungodly hour and the place is packed! I definately recommend the Diner to everyone when your party dies and you're not quite ready to go home. Anyway, I got a burger and hash browns, which DEFINATELY hits the spot when you're sobering up. Then when the bill comes, one of my friends offers to pay for my meal if I chug the bottle of maple syrup on our table. As a side note, here's an interesting fact about me: I have morals and principles, but immediately throw them away when money is offered. Basically, my dignity is for sale. So obviously, I threw that whole bottle back and chugged that shit. It was a lot harder than I thought, being so thick and slow going down. But I finished it, to the cheers of both my friends and strangers alike. After that, I got a MAJOR sugar rush. And our waitress was less than amused. I was up for another 2 hours just on sugar, and then in 10 minutes I just CRASHED. It was like I ran out of fuel and just shut down. I woke up the next day with all of my clothes on, sitting in a chair at a computer. There it is, the best 8 bucks I ever made.

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Columbia Steamroom Massacre

HOLY CRAP! Monday I had quite an interesting day at work. I work at the MU Rec Center, down at the equipment desk. It's really easy, I just sit around and check out towels and basketballs or whatever. Every day is pretty much the same....except Monday. I'm standing behind the desk, everything is going along like clockwork, when this Asian guy, I'd guess in his early 20's(but who really knows since Asian people don't age), comes up to me and says in broken English, "You have first aid?" And I'm like, "yeah, what's up?" and I get out the first aid kit. He says, "My finger is uhh...bleeding" so I'm like okay let me see. The man kind of falls on the counter and points to his foot. Hmm, he must mean his toe. I lean over the desk and look down to see he is standing in a pool of blood! I'm like "Oh my God." and call on the radio, "I need a supervisor to the equipment desk now." So I jump over the counter and grab a wheelchair for the guy to sit in. I put on latex gloves and start to check out this guys bloody mess of a foot. I wipe away much of the blood to see that he has badly split his skin between his pinky toe and the next one. I apply the proper medicine to the cut and apply a tourniquet but it just keeps bleeding, and has now gotten ALL over my gloves and steadily dribbling to the floor. My supervisor arrives and sees the mess, and comes to my rescue. He takes over and wraps the foot as best he can, although I think the guy needed stitches. I turn around to see a trail of blood leading from the locker room so I get new gloves on and get the blood cleaner. I clean up the trail from the locker room, but it keeps going. So I clean up the trail through the locker room, but it keeps going. I clean up the trail down the hallway to the pool, BUT IT KEEPS GOING! It led all the way to the steamroom, which is where he sustained his injury. Apparently he opened the door really hard and smashed it into his foot, tearing it open. What I can't figure out is why he didn't say anything to the lifeguards or anyone, he just made the very LONG walk to the equipment desk, leaving behind him a steady crimson river. Well in all it took me a good hour to clean up, and the guy went home, refusing serious medical attention. So listen to me: FOR YOUR SAFETY, BE CAREFUL WHEN YOU OPEN A DOOR. Because if I have to clean up a bloody mess like that again, I'll kill you.

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Relating to Peanuts

Dear Everybody,
I've come to a realization that I really identify with the Peanuts character, Pigpen. Remember that kid, with the scraggly hair and covered in filth? He wore old dirty clothes and actually spread his nastiness in a big cloud of dirt and hair and whatever else. Yeah, that's me. (You can find out which Peanuts kid you're most like with a fun quiz)I realized this on my own with assistance from my roommate, John J. Cleanfreak, who has been most helpful in pointing out my dirtball qualities. But Pigpen was not just some dirtball. He was a good person. He is smart and nice, and he is happily dirty. Pigpen sees past appearances and focuses on more important things. He's dirty, but not unsanitary, as he makes it a point to always keep clean hands. So maybe I don't shower every day, or maybe I wear the same clothes for days, and maybe I shed more body hair than a person should, but I like me. And I don't think I should have to adhere to society's standards. I have my own. You don't have to bathe every day just because everyone says you should. I shower whenever I think I need to. And I don't know about you guys, but I hate doing laundry, it costs MONEY, and nobody notices when you wear the same clothes. So what's the diff? And anyway, as humans, we live on the dirt. We touch it, and it sticks to us, naturally. Who am I to disrupt nature? It's not like dirt on your skin will kill you. Besides, as Pigpen said nobly, perhaps this is the dust of ancient civilizations.

To be totally honest, an overwhelming majority of people have actually responded positively. I wasn't sure about coming public with my "dirty" lifestyle, because my roommate constantly complains about it. But it's not that I stink, he really is a crazy germophobe(He's bad, I'll discuss it in another post, it's HILARIOUS) but I made a small comment on Facebook, and I got a huge response from people. They love it. It doesn't gross people out, they think it's funny or cool.
"You're a grade A creep with your pigpen speech, but it made me laugh."
-Erin Lakin (long time friend of mine)
"Oh, Steve. I'm encouraging you!"
-Lori McLaughlin (former co-worker)
"Steve, you furry little dirtball. Let's go live in a sty together!"
-Tanya Finners (a friend I met on vacation)
Most people have been supportive, and have actually come forward with their own testimonies. You'd be surprised how dirty we all are.


"Being dirty is practical. I'm never bothered by girls or mosquitos."
-Pigpen

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The establishment needs to STEP OFF!

Amy had a really great presentation today about teens and blogging. It actually got me thinking. And I've come to a conclusion. The establishment needs to shut the hell up and get out my bidniss! What I want to do with my free time is up to me. Your school is just an establishment of education. They shouldn't have any kind of authority over students when they're not at school. Sure, if students are committing crimes during school or on school premises, then you should get in trouble. But when I'm not at school, my life's got nothing to do with teachers or principals. I hear about kids getting in trouble for stuff they put on facebook. I've never actually heard of Mizzou students getting in real trouble, so who knows. But nevertheless, there seems to be some danger about what you can post on the internet. It is really holding back the potential of these internet communities. IT SUCKS! I'd love to read about my friend's narrow escape from the law or see pictures of kids rushing the field, but no. Big Brother is on facebook, and kids are too scared to post the good stuff. Seriously, it's just kids being kids. And it's not like the crimes shown can be prevented, it's already over with. Just face facts, Mr. Police-man, I drank and stormed Faurot Field, and got away with it. Just take the loss and move on. You know, even now, I could be taking a risk putting this out on the web for the general public to read. But your facebook or myspace profile or a personal blog is your personal property, with which I have a right to privacy and to do with what I will, and schools need to respect that. Well it hasn't lashed out against me personally, and kids who post pictures of themselves bonging beers or chugging a big bottle of liquor look like TOTAL TOOLS anyway (We get it, you party. Stop trying so hard, D-bag), but it really is the principle of the matter. It's like, you're my teacher, not my mom or the police. So piss off, I'm not a threat to your school. Internet posts don't reflect the quality of a school's education. I'm sure a parent will look at facebook profiles of Mizzou students and say, "Oh no, I'm not sending my kid there." Yeah freakin' right. Number one, cracking down on internet posts showing underage kids drinking or talking about parties has NO effect on the actual occurance of underage drinking. Number two, Mizzou is a school. They shouldn't feel the need to enforce the laws and punish their students for breaking them. We already have a system set up for that, it's called the police force. So stop overstepping your boundaries, Mizzou, and try focusing on what you're there for in the first place: education. How about directing some resources away from the Gestapo project, and working to improve the university? You know, lowering tuition maybe or improving the school athletics department, just something that might invite more students to come here. I'm sure this is a typical conversation in the Dean's office.

Advisor: Mr. Dean of Students, there's a huge problem we need to discuss.
Dean: Crap, it's not that whole tuition hike thing again, is it? I'm so sick of these people. Just tell them it's the governor's fault or something.
Advisor: No, no. This is much worse. It seems one of our students became intoxicated this weekend.
Dean: GOOD GOD! How could this have happened? How are you sure?
Advisor: He wrote on a friend's wall on facebook about quote, "How drunk they were."
Dean: You mean someone else was drunk with him??? Quick, get me the MUPD. I'm putting a stop to this right now!
Advisor: Very good, Dean. But I still don't understand how these bright young students lost their way.
Dean: I bet Paige Laurie is somehow behind this.

Now, if the Man can just lighten up, realize that facebook profiles don't really mean anything, and quit trying to kill my buzz, maybe more students can create blogs or personal profiles that really convey how they feel. I, for one, refuse to let the Man dictate my self expression.

So to the authorities investigating me right now, this is me saying, Go Facebook yourself.

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