Thursday, February 28, 2008
I Love my Boog
Voeltz and I love to get things in the mail.
Only this time the mystery parcel was not addressed to us. It was addressed to our transient third roommate, Dr. Choo (AKA CHOO!, LD, Larenz, Romo and now Larzie and Boog). We chose Choo because the proper way to pronounce his Romanian name is Lah-REN-choo. That’s probably incorrect, but no one is keeping track.
Whenever Voeltz gets something in the mail, I’m always tempted to open it just to see what it is. There is something about opening mystery packages that just show up on your doorstep that is reminiscent of Christmas morning. I might open it up, check the contents and tape the box back up. Or I may just say, “Bro, the box came open already. I dunno”.
This particular box was addressed to Dr. Choo and was decorated with M&M print.
Ryan: “Yo, did you see that Choo got a package?”
Me: “Yeah, who’s it from? Should we open it?”
Ryan: “Nah, I think it’s from his mom. Those Romanians are terrorists and shit. Let’s wait for him.”
Me: “Fine, but what terrorist sends a bomb in an M&M box right before Valentine’s Day and why would she want to bomb her own son?”
Ryan: “That’s why they’re terrorists. They are unpredictable.”
So later that night, Dr. Choo gets back from the psych ward and opens the box. We were both wrong. The box was neither a bomb nor was it from his mom nor was anyone dropping bombs on his moms. It was from Margie, his girlfriend in Brooklyn. She had sent him 2,000 M&M’s personalized with the message “Miss U Larzie!” and “I Love my Boog” on them. I never knew you could do that.
We proceeded to torment our friend for being with a girl who cared about him enough to send personalized chocolate morsels 5,000 miles across the country so “Larzie” could know that someone loves her “Boog”. Ryan and I ate half of them while calling him a pussy, but we only did so because no girls sent us personalized anything. At least we aren’t pussies.
Labels: Choo
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
O Unfortuna
Finals week is a hodgepodge of emotions: stress, despair, anxiety, relief. Around the Wednesday of finals week was usually when half the students were finished with finals and ready to partake in celebratory refreshing refreshments while the remainder of students were still anxiously studying. When the cold front meets the warm front, you better bet a hurricane of tomfoolery will ensue.
My roommates and I lived on the ocean adjacent Del Playa Drive in Isla Vista. Ryan was finished with finals and headed to The Study Hall, a local dive bar with cheap drinks and loose moraled sorority girls, and proceeded to get hammer drunk. Josh, Laurentiu and I were all home studying when the Ryan hurricane busted through the door like a SWAT Team raid, grabbed a bag of chips, spouted off obscenities, called us all various versions of female reproductive organ and then passed out.
A week before we had seen something on the MTV show Jackass called antiqueing. You basically take a handful of flour and throw it at the face of your victim in an Emerilesque manner resulting in making your target look like he or she was excavated from an ancient sarcophagus. We vowed to never, under any circumstance, do this to each other.
After much discussion (not a lot at all) we decided to break the vow and antique Ryan. There’s no better study break than a little laugh at your friend’s expense…well, that is unless you video tape it and put it on the internet to immortalize his humiliation.