Finally

I've successfully started week five without a single load of laundry done. I mean, yeah, I'm wearing an atrocious Hawaiian shirt and shorts with no underwear. And yes, I'll admit that my bath towel is starting to show hints of cognition and intelligent thought. It's really a shame that my laundry didn't get finished before exams started-- God knows it's not going to happen now. At least I can end the year on the right note. You know, completely naked dancing around a pile of moldy shirts and a living towel with a higher grade in optics than me.

And as I sit here putting off studying for my 7 o'clock optics final, I can't help but jolly over the fact that my summer is ridiculously close. I took a little excursion on Friday to run some summer-crucial errands, namely finalizing some formalities with my job, summer school, and my apartment.

Oh, but Kyle! You haven't even talked about your summer plans yet! Do tell!

Glad you asked. Over the course of the past year I'd been hoping to get a military-esque internship just about anywhere, shooting my name to employers all over the country in hopes that my moderately extensive experience would land me somewhere interesting. Because honestly, that's all I want to do with my EE degree-- something cool. But when several employers decided to interview me, say they'd get back to me, then completely ignore me, I started looking towards my other options.

What I settled on is a good deal, I reckon. Rice offers summer school classes at affordable (to someone) prices. When I asked Louie what he was doing for the summer and if he was taking any classes, it turned out that we both needed the same linear algebra class. So now we're locked into that-- one month and three grueling hours a day of nonstop matrix manipulation and other wordy bullshit that carries no weight whatsoever.

The next logical point on the agenda was finding a place to live over the summer and next year. Having lived on Long Hall and the 90's over the course of the past two years, it's hard to convey to anyone how strongly I want to live in my own place starting ASAP. With no offense to my friends, of course. I mean, both those places were/are great, but they were/are also loud and lend little if any free time and space. What I needed was a place to myself that was in close proximity to the people I've come to love. Somewhere-- nice. Somewhere I could have nice things sitting around and not worry about it becoming a magnet for cigarette burns and bloodstains.

Enter the Esplanade. It's a traditional off-campus haven for our group o' friends. With this place in mind and remembering that my mom has been offering to help me pay for my own digs since I was like seven years old, I started to look at apartment prices with respect to my own finances. I won't say that I've done a very good job managing my spending money this year but considering I placed over three quarters of it in mutual funds, I'm doing okay on money. After I went to visit on Friday, I'm fairly sold on their efficiency suite and ready to move in as early as May 28.

But back to finances. I really can't afford to live my rock & roll lifestyle and pay for food without a job. Considering that I'd be on campus for most of the morning anyways, I started looking for on-campus work that would be interesting and pay me fairly well. Research would have been the bee's knees but, honestly, I'm about as selective as the Rice professors offering undergrad research opportunities. I wouldn't want to work for some pompous douchebag that would have me tuning a machine all day long. So that wasn't even an option. What I needed was a community-- a friendly place where everyone is moderately relaxed and loves to sit on their ass and read FARK.com and Digg all day long while juggling their daily tasks with ease.

Ah, Information Technology.

I found a sweet little number of a job listed on the Rice Jobs site and threw my name. Rather than an interview, my new boss instead showed me the ups and downs of the IT department and drove me around in a golf cart. I was at home. While it's no $5500 stipend and it's no Space Warfare Center in San Diego, I think I'm going to be more than happy with this job.

I have a lot to look forward to with the summer crawling up my back like a crawdad with pincers made of pure joy. I just have to get there first.

Why Donald Trump is an Idiot

I guess Donald Trump was a phenomenon past my time. Whereas he used to actually be successful with his real estate empire and his home made of infant bones and puppy souls (or so I'm told), today he scrapes by with shameless cries to be relevant. The guy hosts a reality show that pits community college dropouts against former crack addicts for a chance to WORK FOR HIM. He claws his way to the front page of supermarket tabloids by making swipes at Rosie O'Donnell forchristsakes. If I got 15 minutes of fame every time I made a joke about Rosie O'Donnell, I'd be a household name, too.

Hey Rosie, why don't you host some more Kid's Choice Awards, you big fat fatty!? Hah, score.

Anyways, good ol' Donald Trump also makes a little scratch by peddling self-help books to the kind of people who buy that sort of thing-- namely your black sheep uncle and used car salesmen. I was douching around the Internet a few days ago when I stumbled upon this gem of an article. Why anyone would spend a waking minute of their life reading Trump's hardback version of the Holocaust is beyond me. But the fact that someone actually spent a few minutes of their life typing out a summary for others to read?

There's only one way to bring balance back to the world. Karma must be restored and I'm just brazen enough to do it.

Ten Ways Donald Trump Got Rich and You Won't Because He's Making This Shit Up

1. Don’t take vacations.
Right, that's a great way to kick things off-- tell people if they want to be rich, they have to work non-stop until they get that billion-dollar promotion. Or until their liver gives out from taking little mini-vacations to Boone's Farm every night because their life sucks. His argument is that unless you have a job that engages you and makes you happy, you'll never work your hardest and thus won't succeed. I see the logic but... seriously? That's about as wishy-washy as it gets. In my experience, you can succeed just the same by hating your job, taking lots of vacations, and just stealing get-rich schemes from Chuck Palahniuk novels. [editor's note-- I spelled that name correctly the first time and almost popped a boner]

2. Sleep is for the weak.
So says the man that probably sat on a mountain of cocaine for most of the 80's and moved to crystal meth when it became the in-vogue thing to do. How about this-- if you don't get enough sleep for three days in a row you will sleep through your fourth day of work and get fired. Trumpy says that being at work all the time shows your bosses how dedicated you are. I have a better idea, though. How about you just do what you're told and buy your boss enough stupid shit from Brookstone on random holidays to garner a promotion?

3. Have a short attention span.
Right. That's why every two seconds, someone at a top-tier university pops an Adderall. Short attention spans worked out great for everyone I knew in high school with ADD. I mean, some of them are shift managers at 7-11 now! People with short attention spans are the reason that President Bush got re-elected, they're the target audience of most reality TV (which Trump must love), and I believe the general consensus is that they're ruining the world. There's no possible way to spin that phrase in a positive light.

4. Don’t depend on technology.

RAWR!! DINOSAUR TRUMP HATES PROGRESS!!!

5. Being underestimated is a good thing.
In these times, I reckon that being underestimated is about half a notch above being completely worthless. Can you actually remember the last time someone asked you to do something unreasonable? Here's the hierarchy, and it's very much a no-shades-of-gray. Either you're a lazy asshole who doesn't put an effort into life, you do average work and you live the same day over and over again until you retire, or you're a pretentious hard worker who gets sexual satisfaction out of success. Believe me-- being underestimated by anyone is never good.

6. You are a one-man army.
Let me be a total college kid for just a second and quote Tyler Durden on this one [editor's note-- too much Chuck Palahniuk] : "You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everyone else..." The fact is that the most successful people in the world got there through groups of trusting connections or rich family members. You are not the one-man army. You're not even the one-man accounting department. You are the one man scumbag who needs to meet and use more important people in order to ascend to billionairity. Sure, you're on your own, but you're not going to get anywhere playing with yourself.

7. Success Leads to More Success.
Now this seems like an iron-clad, logical balloon that even my pin-headed cynicism can't pop. Sure, you ascend the ranks of society as you make money and raise your dick rating. I'll give Trump the kudos for summing Horatio Alger's works into a bullet point on a list in a self-help book. But Trump says that if you don't have success you should feign it. Good luck doing that without divorcing your wife and having the bank foreclose your house because you bought frivolous horseshit to impress your coworkers in marketing. Hard workers with charisma don't have to lie in order to be successful... they just have to sleep with their bosses. And believe me, when you sleep with your boss everyone knows you're a failure.

8. Ponder each decision carefully.
I love this guy! Point three was that you should have a short attention span. So "ponder" each decision carefully by focusing on it for about two seconds before spending the rest of your workday reading the Superficial. Point one was that if you aren't enjoying your job, you're in the wrong place. So follow your gut but only when it comes to where you're working, not how you're getting work done. Most jobs are so dead-end that the your decisions is usually between staying hired or being fired. No one's going to get a Scrooge McDuck vault full of gold coins if they sit around and pretend to be "pondering" an easy decision all day. And admit it-- when you're thinking things over, 99% of the time you're just stalling anyway.

9. Trust your family.
I wonder if these people would back him up on that...

10. Curiosity didn’t kill the cat.
BE CREATIVE! USE YOUR IMAGINATION! EXPLORE NEW WORLDS! THINK OUTSIDE THE BOX! I bet Trump's office is full of that Inspirations propaganda. Anyone who's ever worked in an office knows what I'm talking about.

I hope that now you understand why self-help books are a crock of shit and Donald Trump is a UN-recognized nation-state of shit. If you seriously can't find worthwhile advice anywhere in your life and you must resort to the Books-A-Million bestsellers list to fix your world, there's a book for you. It's called "HOW TO GET A NEW SET OF WORTHWHILE FRIENDS AFTER YOU MOVE THE FUCK OUT OF WHEREVER YOU'RE LIVING."

As a side note, writing "self-help book" more than twice in a week has reminded me how awful the movie Red Eye was. But Cillian Murphy can be the Irish cream in my coffee anytime.

Maybe if I'm lucky, the Trumpmeister will read my blog and cry a little on the inside before calling over Kathy Griffin and Todd Bridges and having a big C-List orgy to get his dopamine up.

(And Don, if your book was actually ghostwritten by Dr. Phil, make sure you punch him in the dick.)

I did something you can use!

In between bouts of doing work and reading about different types of piercings on Wikipedia, I've actually done something that every Rice student could probably benefit from--

Presenting The (Slightly Unofficial) Rice University Academic Calendar!
I painstakingly copy-pasted every single event from the Summer and Fall '07 sessions into Google Calendar. If you're anything like me, you can benefit from having every single little holiday and pass/fail deadline set in front of you. So if anyone uses GCal or iCal, knock yourselves out...

Rice University Academic Calendar (Summer Sessions 2007)
XML | iCal | HTML

Rice University Academic Calendar (Fall Semester 2007)
XML | iCal | HTML

Corrections are welcome. Just don't be a dick about it. And if you try to tell me this is available FROM RICE somewhere else, I'm going to just cry.

360 degrees of auto-fellating power!

This new razor is daunting. But that doesn't mean it's not the coolest little gadget I've ever owned. Happy Birthday to me! Err... On Saturday. Whatever.

Standard Procedure: Personal Ads!

There she was, standing in the doorway with light pounding behind her. She had a highball glass in hand. She was obviously very drunk.

And hey, there I was-- knee deep in danger with nothing but my wits to save my sorry ass. The business editor of the Rice Standard was staring right through me. She knew why I had broken into her room. She had to know. I was a gonzo journalist and she was nothing but a secretary with a jazzed-up job title.

I mean, come on. She answers the phone and moves money from point A to point B. Sometimes she writes things down on a notepad and hands it to some poor intern. I'm a man of journalism-- I refuse to give her the satisfaction of calling a desk jockey that has no hand in design or creative workmanship an "editor."

"Who the [pregnant pause] fuck..." she started, looking around her room cautiously with her head tilted to the floor.

"I err was em looking for uh Sandy. Sandy's your roommate, right?" I was sweating bullets. Big fifty cal hollow points. She was about to call the cops and I was going to be thrown into the rape dungeon at Harris County.

"No, Sandy lives down the hall." She made a lazy gesture with her hand and proceeded to crash into her bed face first. I laughed like a pirate as soon as I realized how messed up she was. I walked calmly and proudly out of her room and back to my own.

So what was I looking for? Why, the Rice Standard's most prized possession.

the rice standard's lost personal ads!

MISSED CONNECTIONS
saw u at 2nd floor brown during bacchanalia. u were tall n so hot. looked at me and said "dude, I'm ripped. jea. phx." call me back. ask for melody.

Worth a shot... I bumped into you at the Rice ACLU meeting a few weeks ago. You know, the one about actual civil liberties and not about pot or gun control? We were the only two people there so you better remember me. Call James.

shot in the dark-- literally. i was in the bushes watching you make out with some jock guy at bacchanalia. i already have your name and phone number and room number. i don't really know why i bought this ad. i'll be at your place on may 2 @ 6 to pick you up for dinner. you won't recognize me. xoxo, "doc"

Ran into you at the Of Montreal show a while back. I was the one with the jet black hair and the skintight pants. I really stood out. Call Bill.

MEN SEEKING WOMEN
I'm single and built like a bear. I'd love to take you to my place for some Wii Tennis and beer pong. Ask for Russ.

BI/CURIOUS
This Spartan warrior is looking for Arcadian companionship. Must be ready to go deep into Thermopylae. Sure, I have a girlfriend... but that hasn't stopped me in the past. Just ask Andrew Flowers. Call Mikey.

I NEED YOUR SEED INSIDE MY COLON. Please call Sean.

Sexually frustrated female seeks something new. Domination perhaps? Just take it easy on my shoulder. Call "A."

WOMEN SEEKING MEN
I like my coffee like I like my men-- hot, creamy, and Jewish. Peculator is a plus. Call Julie.

west-u hottie seeks a man my age to save me from the dinosaur i married! Ping.


That's all I got for now, folks. My next mission is to break into Alice's room and pick up some of the articles that even the Standard won't let you read!

Homo

The perfect end to the night. Louie, Stef, and Sean!

Dawg!

Happy gothdays! I mean holidays!

On Coffee

I've been a sort of coffee fiend for the past few days. Not that I'm a stranger to caffeine or anything-- I mean, you show me an EE major who's made it this far without the help of heavy stimulant use and I'll show you a failing liar. Here on campus, though, coffee isn't exactly as free and available as you'd think...

• Coffeehouse coffee costs too much for the flavor and benefit received. I guess it's because they insist on using "Free Trade" coffee that tastes like foot and is grown in the second world rather than third world. Besides, I've totally spent all my Tetra points on $6 smoothies and sexual favors from Joel Hernandez. Nothing like a Caribbean Way and a hummer to help me chug through some optics homework.
  
• Some department offices-- like the ECE Department office-- have a coffee machine or two adorning the halls. But not only do I avoid professor offices like the plague but the coffee that inhabits these particular pots looks like it was brewed during the Warren Commission hearings.
• There's always the serveries for early morning coffee but again, taste is an issue. And it's only served in the mornings. As if those weren't deterring factors, though, realize that unless you wake up at the asscrack of breakfast time you will NOT get any coffee. I have this sneaking suspicion that the big fat pot o' coffee sits out for no more than three seconds before some archaic dinosaur of an RA picks it up with both of his calloused hands, raises it three feet above his head, and pours the entire thing down his gullet. He then looks over at the kitchen staff with an evil glare and dares them to make more. Frightened and unmotivated by their wage, they just don't make any more coffee.

Obviously there must be a solution to this dilemma. After all, if Kyle can't get moderately priced and delicious coffee on demand at any hour... I shudder to think of how bad my grades would be. If only there was some small machine that could keep in my room along with a fresh supply of flavored beans and sugar...

Enter the BrewStation Deluxe 12-Cup Personal Coffee Maker.


My suitemate Sage has had this delicious, sub-$100 chunk of God's Glory for the entire year. Foolishly, though, I had been resorting to the channels above to get my shit amped. Now there is a better way.

I asked him the other day if he wouldn't mind me moving the coffee machine from his side of the suite to mine. He said it really wasn't a problem, seeing as the relic used to be tucked away behind a papasan and was next to impossible to use. It didn't have an outlet nearby. It was shamed. I brought it out into the open air of my common room and did it some well-deserved justice.

The other caffeine fiends of the APC have taken note to this new and convenient life dispenser. I can't walk three feet in any direction before Julie and Lea are latched onto my pale and embarrassingly out-of-shape calves, begging with the cold gaze of so many junkies for me to make one more pot o' java.

I guess the question now-- with me going off campus and all-- is if I'm willing to make the investment in the ULTIMATE coffee maker for my apartment. Should I get an espresso maker too? Should it be a dispenser or a classic pot-style machine? Should it have a cold brew option?

OMG LIVING ON MY OWN IS CRAZY BALLS.

Slovich ain't sober

Mikey is back to his former glory!

Snore!

John Doerr, billionaire and Rice alum. Today I participated in a videoconference with this boring guy. Yay!

I read this thing

What follows is the secession speech for Albert Patrick College, the residence in which I live. Authored and read by yours truly. Just try to imagine me really really worked up.

There is a spectre haunting this residential college-- the spectre of Albert P. Patrick, Esquire. One hundred and seven years ago, this brave man-- our fearless leader-- stood up for the values of greed, shameless obstruction of justice, and murder. Though his legacy lives on through disciples such as President Bush, the GOP, and rap music, we feel that his presence at this residential college can no longer be ignored. Albert Patrick lives on through our Party.

Our Party-- the Albert Patrick College party-- is as human as you and I. The voice of our party wakes you on Friday nights as you toss and turn, unsatisfied with your scholastic way of life. The beer kegs stacked high outside our residence are the substance of our party. Our party breathes smoke and sweats grain alcohol as it labors to fix all that William Marsh Rice has corrupted. It is not Comrade Warner who holds our feet during keg stands-- it is the festive, decadent spirit of Albert Patrick.

And how are we rewarded for our hard work? You marginalize us. You isolate us to this desolate corner of the campus, filthy with cigarette butts, graffiti, broken bottles, and the smell of Mike's cooking. You twist the arm of the law to your advantage, using so-called "noise complaints" as an excuse to harass us. Hanszen turns its back to the party-- they won't even bother rocking our faces off. All we can do is duck and cover while Sid Rich bombards us with awful music and shrimp cocktail. Your corrupt government won't even provide us with funding to support our party despite all of our hardships.

For years you have isolated and embarrassed us. You berated us publicly in a college-wide meeting last year. When we tried to do a little redecorating in the kitchen-- you know, with holes in the wall and dirty dishes piled high in the sink-- you moved our weekly gatherings to the dank and dark basement. But you hardened our resolve, and on March 28, 2006-- a Room Jack that will live in infamy-- we formed our party.

We will not allow this injustice to stand any longer. In the words of Chairman Mao, "If there is to be a revolution, there must be a revolutionary party." My peers, we are the revolutionary party. We stand before you tonight united, as we have been all year, in our mission to bring sleaze, sex, stupidity, decadence, deliciousness, and debauchery to your doorsteps.

President Sharpe, members of the Electoral Council, College Master Wolf, and fellow proletariat of the university, the members of the Will Rice College 90s's hereby secede to form Albert Patrick College.

(exit, chanting "unh, jea, word, respek, delicious")

Throwing thought-darts at the concentric colored rings of right and wrong

I sat here and tried to put into words how I'm feeling. I had a few little nuggets that grazed the surface but, in the end, all I could come up with is this little request--

I hope that when I die, willing it be many many years from now, people greeted with the news-- co-workers, acquaintances, and friends of my friends-- decide that the entirety of my life was more important than one day and a keg of beer.

Yesterday, I watched in complete disbelief as many people chose that one day and that keg of beer over respecting the death of a Rice student. And it's as clean-cut as that.