Previous installments: Part 1

During college, I had my fair share of adventures and (more often) misadventures. I climbed a 16-story clock tower while it was under construction, participated in a few intramural sports championships, had a 50-pound stereo speaker shatter my nose during sex (seriously), helped design and build potato guns, successfully snuck into various sorority houses, got kicked out of bars, woke up in random places (and with random people) I'd never seen before, so on and so forth. But I'm not going to lie: My first day at college was painfully, even embarrassingly lame.

After my roommate disappeared, I wandered around campus and got lost. I tried unsuccessfully to track down some fellow freshmen from my hometown. I went running and got lost again. I made a handful of mopey phone calls to friends and family. I took a nap.

That evening, my dorm held a beginning-of-the-year dance in one of the two dining halls. I got spiffed up in my own dorky way -- button-down shirt and khaki shorts -- and ambled down to meet and greet. Unfortunately, after only one lap around the dance floor, I got intimidated and left. Armed with my Walkman and a copy of Joe Satriani's "Surfing With The Alien," I took a walk and got lost yet again, after which I vowed to stop going on walks altogether. Defeated, I went to the dorm's after hours grill, bought a hamburger and shuffled back to my room. And even though I usually have only ketchup and mustard on my burgers, that night I added some mayonnaise too. After all, I was in college now. It was time to take chances.

I spent the rest of the night watching old Celtics games. I was in bed by 11:00 p.m.

At around 6:30 a.m., I woke to the sound of dozens of voices. Singing voices. I scrambled to the window and looked down. Our wing of the building was being serenaded -- poorly and somewhat profanely -- by our sister wing from the all-girl dorm across the street. I sleep hard, and I wake harder, so I was still trying to take make sense of this odd tableau when a giant pillow flew past me and slammed against the window.

"SHUT THE F*** UP!!"

My roommate was home. He was pissed. And he wasn't alone.

Mat was in bed on his back, and on top of him was a girl I'd obviously never seen before. Since the sheets provided by the dorm were barely big enough to cover Mat's hulking mass, I quickly realized they were both naked. The scene eyeful. To say the least.

I flopped back down onto my bed and turned away from them, assuming they wanted a little privacy. Mat spent a few minutes yelling at the serenaders to go away, but they ignored his profanity and sang outside our window for almost an hour. Shortly after they finally left, I heard Mat utter a line I would become very familiar with in the coming months: "Baby, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He and the nameless girl then proceeded to have noisy sex for the next five minutes or so.

I was shocked. At the time, that was pretty hard core for me. I'd watched Cinemax After Dark, sure. I'd even shown a stag film called Grind My Groin at a going-away party I threw for my buddy Dave D. before he'd left for the army the previous June. But I had never been five feet away from a couple furiously making the beast with two backs. Even after they finished -- or, rather, after he finished -- I didn't know what to do. I waited a couple minutes, then sat up and tried to act as if nothing had happened. Turned out that was impossible.

Mat had pulled most of the sheet over himself, so the girl's body was almost fully exposed. I couldn't help but gape, less out of lust (although there was a little of that) than surprise and near-panic. As I goggled at his girl, Mat said, "Hey, you want sloppy seconds?"

Following a moment of stunned silence, I said, "Wh...what?"

"Sloppy seconds," he replied, like he was offering to let me borrow a pencil. "Me and the guys at my prep school always shared sloppy seconds."

I was terrified that the girl was going to start freaking out about being offered around like a plate of five dollar hors d'oeuvres, but she didn't look the least bit offended. In fact, she adopted a complacent, "I will do whatever he tells me to do" look.

"I'll pass, thanks."

Mat shrugged. "Suit yourself." Then he rolled over and fell asleep almost immediately. The girl maintained eye contact with me for another few seconds to make sure I really didn't want those sloppy seconds, and then she rolled over and fell asleep herself (or pretended to), an amazing feat considering she was clinging to the outter edge of the bed.

I got up, changed into shorts and a basketball jersey, and left posthaste. Fortunately for me, the co-recreational gymnasium was directly across the street from my dorm. I wasn't there five minutes before getting into a pickup game. Finally, I'd found something that made me feel halfway normal. Under the circumstances, it felt like the happiest hour and a half of my life. But one by one people started to leave until I was the only person left on the court. I berated myself for not trying to get a phone number, or asking somebody to hang out. Something.

By the time I got back to the room, Mat and the girl were gone.

For the next few hours, I just sat in the room watching old basketball games. Eventually, the phone rang and, surprisingly, it was for me. Zach, a semi-friend from high school had just moved into a dorm nearby and wanted to hang out. I probably left skid marks on my way over to his place.

Zach and I hung out for most of the day. We went to Taco Bell, stopped by some book stores, bought a couple posters, tried (and failed) to figure out our way around campus, shared a Papa John's pizza. We didn't like each other all that much, but there was a certain sense of relief in just being with someone familiar.

I had heard about a dance being held at the Memorial Union. Because dancing usually means girls, we tried decided to give it a try. However, after an hour of wandering, it became obvious that we were totally lost. "Zach," I said, totally frustrated, "where exactly are we going?"

"What?" he asked. "I was following you."


It took a good deal of backtracking and guessing, but we made it back to my dorm and staggered up the stairs to my room with the intent of ordering another pizza. However, when we got there, my roommate was waiting. And he had a different girl with him this time.

"Uh, I gotta go," Zach said, and he left without another word.

The stereo was blasting "Rat Race" by Bob Marley. I have no idea why I remember that, but I do. As I edged cautiously into the room, Mat lifted a beer to me in salute. "Hey der, roomie!" he blared. "Dis is Shelly."

There's no other way to put this: Shelly was hot. Fit, tan, brunette, huge...tracts o' land. And, most importantly, a really gorgeous smile. She leaped off the bed and hugged me like I was an old friend she hadn't seen in years.

"Hey baby!" she half-yelled as she planted a wet kiss on my cheek.

I had no idea what to say, so I just sat on my bed and looked at them. Mat sucked down the rest of his beer and then produced what I could only assume was a the world's largest joint. "Dude," he said, "you ever been high?"


"Well, then dis'll be your first time." In case I hadn't mentioned this before, Mat sounded like a reggae version of Arnold Schwarzenegger.

I shook my head. "Nah, that's okay."

Shelly grabbed the joint, then came over and crawled onto my lap. She held the joint up to my mouth and whispered in my ear. "C'mon, baby. Get high with us." Man, my teenage hormones nearly exploded. I know that's probably not even physically possible, but I swear it almost happened. I was really close to doing it, and anything else she suggested short of a devil's three-way, but with a titanic effort I collected myself and said, "No, really, I don't want any."

"Whatever," she said, bouncing back to Mat's bed. They then proceeded to get very high and very drunk. I sat in bed reading a book and feeling like the biggest dorkwad the world had ever known. There were a couple times I considered asking for some beer or a hit off the joint, but I felt too stupid and ashamed.

By 11 p.m. I was exhausted, the extreme lameness of my day having worn me out. I went to the bathroom to change clothes and brush my teeth. When I got back to the room, Shelly was topless and straddling Mat. She turned to me, breasts swaying, and said, "Like the view?" I'm going to guess I was blushing, because my face felt like it was about to burn off.

Mat and Shelly went on to have sex while I taught myself to sleep with a pillow wrapped around my head. That skill served me very well for the rest of the semester. Eventually, mercifully, I fell into a dreamless sleep.

At around 6:30 a.m., I again woke to the sound of voices. And pounding. Only this time, it was outside my door.

"GET UP!" the voice screamed. "TIME TO GO SERENADE THE GIRLS!"

Ah, I thought, revenge. I'll pass.

I was about to roll over and go back to sleep, but the door -- which Mat (as would be his habit for most of our time together) had purposely left unlocked -- swung inward. In walked our R.A., Brett.

"Are you guys coming alo..." he started to say. Then he noticed beer cans littering the floor. And the girl in bed with my roommate, which was a clear violation of the overnight guest policy (i.e., you couldn't have any).

Brett grimaced at me and walked over to the huge mass of human flesh on my roommate's bed. He gave the girl a few quick pokes on the back and said, "Ma'am, wake up. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

When she rolled over, Brett cried out out shock. "Shelly?!"

"Brett," she said in a hoarse voice. "Wha'sup?"

I know what you're thinking, but Shelly wasn't Brett's girlfriend. She was his cousin, who was visiting him from California. Only she'd slipped away during an orientation meeting Brett had to attend, and on the way back to his room she had run into Mat. And, well, yeah.

"Jesus," Brett said, slapping his forehead. "You've been drinking," he blurted out, glancing at the remains of the joint in the ashtray, "and doing...other stuff. Do you realize it's my job to keep this stuff from happening here? Do you realize how bad this looks for me?"

"I'm sorry, Brett," she croaked. "I's jus havin' a good time."

"Come on, I'm taking you back to my room, you can sleep this sh*t off there," he said. He grabbed her by the arm and started leading her out. But before he did, he turned to me and said, "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to write both of you a disciplinary report."

"Wait, what? Buh, both of us?" I stammered. "I didn't even do anything."

"Again, I'm sorry, but those are the rules. You're at fault for not reporting the activity to me."

Great. I had managed to resist peer pressure and avoid drugs and alcohol, but I was getting busted anyway. Fan-freaking-tastic.

"Do me a favor and explain that to your roommate when he comes to, okay?" Brett said.

"And tell him I'll call him!" Shelly rasped out as Brett dragged her away.

All the while, Mat lay there snoring. Sometimes unconsciousness is bliss.

Part 3

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Anonymous Anonymous said...
Let me leap to the defense. Bawful is *much* cooler and more capable now.

You know you're my boy, right?

Anonymous Anonymous said...
please write part 3 as soon as possible.

i hope this story has at least 100 parts. thank you

Blogger Will said...
1. Have you ever smoked? Wait, you don't have to answer that. Just blink once for yes and twice for no.
2. Dude, didn't your school offer orientation to keep you from getting continually lost?

Blogger David Menéndez said...
This series is shaping up to be something completely unexpected in an NBA blog. I love it. Thanks for writing and sharing, Matt.

Blogger David Menéndez said...
This series is shaping up to be something completely unexpected in an NBA blog. I love it. Thanks for writing and sharing, Matt.

Blogger Basketbawful said...
BadDave -- What, no taking credit for the placement of the stereo speaker that almost killed me?

Anonymous -- Next installment will be posted tomorrow.

Will -- 1. Blink. 2. Yes. But I couldn't find it.

Latin_D -- You're welcome. This is one I've been siting on for years...only before, I'd back down before posting. Now I figure, what the hell.

Anonymous Anonymous said...
Um, next time do it on the couch, not on the floor. And don't put the phone on top of it.

Blogger Basketbawful said...
BadDave -- Look, with the amount of ass gas you passed into the couch, there was no way I was going to rock and roll on that thing. And the bed was out due to your faulty loft construction. Nathan spent way too much time in the bean bag ('nuff said). The floor was the only option I had left.

Blogger Basketbawful said...
BadDave -- Speaking of lofts, I still say one of the all-time great moments in our friendship was the second year we lived together, when we paid that schmuck to deliver and assemble our second loft. We sat in the middle of the room drinking lemonade while he did it. That was the best $175 (combined) we ever spent. That does not include the $400 we spent on alcohol the time you flooded your mom's place, or the cash we blew at Mardi Gras before I dropped trow on the worst possible block in the French Quarter.

Anonymous Anonymous said...
Don't forget the best pickup game of all time and the 95 and 96 NBA playoffs, or all day at a certain bar I could name but it would give away the institution.

Blogger Bcstein said...
This comment has been removed by the author.

Blogger Jim in KFalls said...
This is the best series EVER!

Blogger Basketbawful said...
"Don't forget the best pickup game of all time and the 95 and 96 NBA playoffs, or all day at a certain bar I could name but it would give away the institution."

I want to track those dudes down for a rematch just so we can kick their asses again. Ah, that grand institution. We have to go there during some almuni weekend and spend the day drinking. I say alumni weekend only so we don't look like the weird old guys.

Blogger Basketbawful said...
Bcstein -- I'm NOT saying that's him. I'm not. But I just peed myself a little.

Blogger chris said...

So will this nameless hero of the Wilt Chamberlain lifestyle be featured in the next edition of Charles Barkley Shut Up And Jam Gaiden?!?!?

CAPTCHA: sughd, as in "With another night of the same demoralizing routine, Bawful sughd to a half-asleep state."

Blogger Bcstein said...
This comment has been removed by the author.

Blogger t-rocc said...
i'm loving this stuff, Matt - looking forward to the future installments!

Blogger AnacondaHL said...
PRO TIP: Click the left/right arrows to see more of the MMA team.


I'd share my sloppy seconds with you too.

Anonymous Barry said...
There's a movie in here - sort of American Pie mashed up with a little He Got Game.

Needless to say someone should publish this stuff -it's awesome. Plus there's a Dutch guy involved, that should do well in Europe.

Blogger Will said...
Barry- American Pie? More like Boogie Nights

Anonymous Anonymous said...
I didn't think it was possible but there exists another "Mat" who's cooler.

Anonymous carlodj said...
great story! it's obviously real, because you just can't make that s#it up!

i love how the RA's cousin is the hot girl. haha. that's like a Shyamalan twist... was shyamalan maybe your RA?

Anonymous dunkside said...
so wait a damn second. you've been sitting on these stories all this time while wasting our time with marios and laction reports ? (which i initially spelled "lactation reports", obviously thinking of shelly's swinging big round beautiful ... tracts'o land) ???

shame on you !!!

for as long as there's flopping in the nba and there are players like marbury or larry hughes, us fans should also get stories about shelly (and other girls like her) to soothe our pain.

Blogger Wild Yams said...
A couple comments here:

1. I'm glad to hear when you got dressed up for the beginning-of-the-year dance you refrained from wearing your famous Larry Bird shorts.

2. Inquiring minds want to know: exactly how many tapes of old Celtics games did you take with you to college? You're always referencing this huge library of old games that you have, so I can't be the only one who is dying to see a photograph of this giant trove of NBA history. I imagine some huge closet filled floor to ceiling with carefully cataloged tapes.

3. When Shelly asked you if you "liked the view" did you give a response? If so, what was it? Bonus question: what's the best response to that question in that situation?

4. This series of installments is the best thing ever. EVAR.

Anonymous Anonymous said...
"Do you like the view?"

Although my era placement may be off, a "Who wants to sex Mutombo?" would have done the trick.

Blogger Basketbawful said...
AnacondaHL -- We are officially Sloppy Seconds Brothers.

carlodj -- Mr. Shyamalan was not my R.A. Although I will tell you this. Brett and I went on to become lifelong friends, and I could tell you stories about this guy. Here's one. He was what we call "The Fourth Ghostbuster" on our first trip to Mardi Gras (along with BadDave, Statbuster and myself). Brett had itchy feet and kept disappearing. We did our best to keep track of him, but eventually we just gave up. One night we hadn't seen him for four or five hours. We finally discovered him at 4 a.m. leaning against our hotel room door, fast asleep while standing...where he had been, apparently, since peeing on the Coke machine around the corner.

Turns out that, during his French Quarter wanderings, he came across two Asian women trapped between a glass storefront window and a set up pull-down iron bars (you know, the kind that are supposed to repel looters). They were pounding on the glass and screaming at him in Asian. He could't understand them, but assumed they needed help. He went around to the back of the building and found the door unlocked. He entered and found the women still trapped. Brett did everything he could to free them, including ramming his own body against the bars to no avail. Beaten, he ran out to find the cops. The last thing he heard were the two women screaming at him in whatever language they spoke.

Five minutes later, he returns with the cops to find...nothing. The store was there, as were the window and the bars. But no screaming Asian women. He swore to the cops that he saw what he saw and suggested they try to get into the shop to investigate for foul play. The cops told him he'd had too much to drink and that he could either go home or spend the night in jail. He opted to go back to the hotel, only he was the only member of our group without a room key (re: Fourth Ghostbuster). All he could do was urinate in the hallway and pass out.

Good times.

dunkside -- Trust me, you haven't seen, er, read the last of Shelly in this tale.

Wild Yams -- Replies:

1. Even I wasn't that socially retarded. Okay, I was, but I didn't make that particular mistake.

2. "Inquiring minds want to know: exactly how many tapes of old Celtics games did you take with you to college?" A LOT. I would estimate that nearly half of the possessions I brought with me to college were old basketball tapes. Sadly, my extensive library of tapes is neither well-organized or carefully catalogued. I've got all tapes crammed in boxes, old shopping bags, on shelfs, stuffed inside my spare entertainment center. Every year I tell myself, "Self, it's time to start converting these babies to DVD." And every year I don't get it done. Which sucks, because some of the tapes have started to decay...much like the Great Pyramids.

3. I believe my response was something along the lines of "Guurgh [drool]." Seriously, it was some kind of grunt-ish thing. I had no response for that. As for the best response, I suppose it depends on your goal. If I'd wanted to watch some free, live porn, I could have said, "I love the view. Mind if I watch?" Of course, then I would have run the risk of seeing Mat's schlong and being scarred for, well, not for life, but for a while. I suppose I also could have said, "I love the view, but it would look even better from my bed." But I'm guessing she would have laughed or Mat would have squished me.

Anonymous AK Dave said...
This is becoming like a man-soap-opera. I'm totally hooked. I haven't been this hooked since I was 12 years old watching 90210. I guess this would make you Brandon Walsh and your roommate would be Steve Sanders. And "Shelly" would be a brunette Kelly Taylor.

And... I'm done. And sitting awkwardly in my cubicle, with a semi, remembering my own college "experience" while picturing what is going to happen with "Shelly" in future installments.


Blogger helloledbetter said...
Sweet merengue dancing Jesus this is good stuff.

I just... wow...

And it's hard to believe, with the rate he's going at of doing it with you in the room, you WEREN'T subjected to a view of the ducthman's winky. Miraculous.

Anonymous Fogo! said...
A question that I have to ask: Bawful, have you ever used 'Sloppy seconds' as fantasy team name? So-called 'sexy' picks would reach a whole new level of creepiness

Blogger Wild Yams said...
Mr. Bawful:

1. Did you at least bring the famous Larry Bird shorts with you to college?

2. Now I'm even more curious. Just how many tapes of old basketball games do you have? How bizarre is it that out of everything in that story it is the fact that you brought basketball tapes with you to college that I'm focusing on? I must confess, I have an insanely large amount of questions I want to ask about this tape collection (like how do you explain it to girlfriends, does NBATV call you to get copies for games they themselves don't have, etc). I've just never met anyone who had a gigantic collection of old basketball games before. I have taped games myself, but it's been pretty rare that I'd actually keep a game "for the archives". Basketball really is a religion in Indiana, isn't it? :)

3. I'm with helloledbetter on this: how did you manage to avoid seeing Mat's junk with all this haphazard collegial fornication going on a few feet from you? I understand that once you had the pillow securely fastened over your head this was probably not an issue, but it sounds like every time you opened your eyes after sleeping and/or walked into the room you were bound to see any number of crazy things in process, so it would stand to reason that you'd had to have seen a lot of things you had no interest in seeing during your tenure as Mr. Future MMA's roomie.

Blogger Barry said...
I think the appropriate response would have been

"I like half of it"

And I can only assume Mr Bawful has managed to supress the image of the guy's man-regions into the dark, cavernous depths of his mind....if he had indeed seen it.

Maybe 'witnessed' is the term I'm looking for when describing a man of...size. And here I was wondering how I was going to get through the off-season!

Blogger Basketbawful said...
Wild Yams -- Replies:

1. Goddamn it man, yes I did, okay?! But I promise, I wore them sparingly.

2. tell you the truth, I have no idea how many tapes I have. A couple hundred? Most of them are eight-hour tapes, and, believe it or not, I would try to edit out the commercials while taping to save space. Oh, and if the team I was rooting for was getting blown out, I'd stop recording because I was mad. Girlfriends have always regarded my tapes (and my massive comic book collection) with bemusement. Like, "Uh, why do you have all these again? Why would you want to go back and watch old games?" There's no real way to explain it.

NBAtv hasn't called, but I sometimes get random e-mails from readers requesting this or that game. Obviously I can't get into copying and distributing tapes, even if people paid me to do it.

Also, I don't think it's an Indiana thing. None of my friends who were into basketball did what I did.

3. You know, I have no idea how I avoided it. I was terribly self-conscious back then, and I wouldn't even let my eyes wander in the area of his groin if I thought there was a chance I'd see something. I was an 18 year old dude afraid of seeing another guy's schlong, like it was going to randomly fire schlong particles at me or something.

Anonymous Anonymous said...
There's another word for schlong particles, but MOVING ON....

I call shenanigans on the "sparingly" description of the Bird shorts. Dude, you wore those ALL THE TIME playing ball at the rec.

Anonymous Geert said...
A Dutch guy smoking joints and being liberal about sexual affiliations. How stereotypical. Question: should I be proud of my fellow countrymen?

Anonymous Karma said...
As I sit here in my 2nd year of college in off-campus housing, I must say I absolutely love your story so far.

My first was year was prety crazy, but no, I didn't hang out with any atheletes. Unfortunetly, second year has sucked so far.

As far as witnessing two people having sex while you're 10 feet from them, yes, that is a really really awkward feeling. I used to just have my eyes closed and pretend I'm asleep.

And dude, you gotta take the sloppy seconds! Considering you spent the day doing absolutely nothing. Was this Mat guy good-looking or was it just his size that seemed to attract these girls?

Blogger chris said...
Wow, this whole series feels like that one Fox Sports Net TV show...

"BEYOND THE GLORY: Basketbawful's College Years."

Not sure there's much glory in this one though, but a lot of comedy gold to mine right now...

Anonymous dunkside said...
please tell me you'd have accepted sloppy seconds with shelly. please.

and if i may rant a little:

why are you 'merkins such prudes ? i'm referring to the part where you asked the guy to put some pants on to "protect" the ladies. he wasn't completely naked and i imagine the women had already seen a dick or 2 before. and if they didn't like seeing him in his underwear, they could've avoided looking in his general direction.

and you do the same thing with titties in the movies. movies that would be perfect if they showed a titty or 2 are ruined just so they can be rated E or whatever the rating is. it's as if seeing a titty could damage a kid forever. blood and guts are ok, but not a titty. how long till breastfeeding is outlawed to protect the innocence of children ?


Blogger Fundefined said...
You should have looked. That would answer the age old question of whether height correlates with schlong size. Judging by his many women, it might.

Anonymous Anonymous said...

...would you want some random dude in his underwear around your mom and gf?

Blogger Caleb Smith said...
Off topic but I have to post this because it is so awesome:

Apologies if its something you guys have seen before... I just discovered it.

Oh and bawful you totally should have hit both of those chicks... sloppy seconds or not.

Blogger Eric said...
This may be my favorite thing ever. Well, it's up there, anyway. Props. Or something.

Anonymous PK said...
Having shared a room with team mate on an end of season trip while he decided to bust up a Thai hooker (who thought she would make more money if she got me to join in), I understand Bawful's feelings of schlong fear.....I suggest next time popping a couple of sleeping pills and chanting "there is no place like home".....

Blogger AnacondaHL said...
"like it was going to randomly fire schlong particles at me or something."
Bawful, you've been spending time at again, haven't you?

dunkside: The 80's called, they think they've got the right fanservice to offer you.


Anonymous dunkside said...
@anonymous - dude was in HIS room. is not like i'm saying it's ok to invite to your home random dudes that are in their underwear.

if i'm in my room, i consider i have the right to be in my underwear whenever i feel like it.

and if you worry about dudes in underwear or short and/or tight shorts around your gf you shouldn't take her to the beach. at least keep her away from european beaches.

really, is just a damn schlong and a pair of balls. half of the earth population has them. and if you worry your gf would jump on the 1st schlong she sees, than you need a new gf.

@basketbawful - the best answer to that question is: "i got dibs on sloppy seconds" !!!

Anonymous bizarro said...
way to go Bawful! this is good fun to read. looking forward to the sequels. you are that close to give your roommate's name away though...i think you would have the blast of our life if you could make fun of him publicly. am I mistaken?

Anonymous Anonymous said...
Wow you judgment-passing hardcore bastards! You've obviously forgotten your own awkward-around-those-you're-sexually-attracted-to-partly-because-you've-no-self-esteem phase. I again reiterate - Bawful has become a different person since his first year of college.

So, if Bawful and AnacondaHL are brothers in sloppiness, would that make them Sloppy Thirds? And each subsequent member would add one to that count; to be fair, you'd all have to take a turn being last sometime.

Blogger Nick Flynt said...
'The first rule of The Devil's Three Way.....never make eye contact with the other guy.'

- Doogie Howser

I say you called it right on the sloppy seconds. Chances were, you would have made meat on other man's juice contact. Find your own skanky girl(a Shelley) is the way of college.

Great stuff though.

On the tapes: There is actually a major sub-culture of sports fans who do this. There was an ESPN Magazine article on it some time ago. Someone do a search, as I don't have my ESPNs catalogued.

Blogger Nick Flynt said...

I couldn't have resisted giving that R.A. some harsh language after he suggested that you talk to the hulking, soon to be hungover Nederlander about how he was getting reported. That was a douche-move.

Anonymous Stevo said...
The whole time I'm reading, I'm thinking man this sounds just like how I remember UW when I first got here. Then you mention the Memorial Union. Nice. And the rec facility across the street from your dorm, were you in Ogg Hall or Witte- Ogg '02 here. Great post, captures that old feeling nicely. Go Badgers!

Anonymous AK Dave said...
Hey Steveo-

UW (Yoo-Duhb) = University of Washington. Dang!! (/napoleon dynamite) :)

Buck Nasty-

The whole "meat on juice" thing brought up images that were highly unnecessary. I'm going to pretend that this "Mat" guy has half a brain (or the ladies he's boning do) and he's using a condom. In which case, the seconds aren't going to be "sloppy", and you should go for it. However, if dude is hittin' it raw and not pulling out way, WAY early, then forget that. You need to wait at LEAST 24hrs before that thing is clean enough to hit again.


"Find your own skanky girl(a Shelley) is the way of college" - Buck Nasty

All I can say is:

En el nombre del padre, el hijo, y el espiritu santo- amen.

Anonymous Playing Games said...
Just stumbled on this and have to say, not what I was expecting from a basketball blog.

I'm intrigued as this sort of thing didn't happen in my day and although I don't consider myself old, I certainly didn't know about sloppy seconds when I was in college.