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Tuesday, March 4, 2008

People From Stanford Are Bed Stealing Assholes

"President Truman can't be wrong."

If you’re an avid reader of this blog, or even a newcomer, you may have noticed that there is a bit of slant in terms of our college coverage. Sure, we try to be unbiased, but when you have alumni sprouting left and right from a certain school and these people are contributing, it’s a bit useless to mask our biases. Even when we try, we end up covering two certain schools (cough cough Cal cough cough UCLA) more than other schools (cough cough Stanford cough cough USC). We pretend to care about the other schools, but their coverage seems to get dominated by the two other schools.

At first, I would try to rationalize my bias stating the simple fact “I went to Cal, it’s my blog, I can do whatever the hell I want, jabroni.” This logic is pretty much what I apply to many other things. “It’s my car, biatch, so if I feel like driving 120 mph, then so be it.” Of course I don’t advocate speeding, but I do advocate speeding if it’s done by me. Just kidding. If the CHP is reading this and you see a rusted Toyota Echo driving down the 101 at dangerously high speeds, it’s definitely not me driving in it. I swear.

Anyway, that logic was pretty much why I would allow such a bias to Cal continue on a blog claiming to cover all of California. I mean, I can’t cover everyone, or there would be posts about UC Santa Cruz’s frisbee team, and trust me, no one wants to read that.

However, after a particular incident, I came up with a new conclusion, “people from Stanford are inconsiderate douches, and the reason I don’t cover Stanford as much is because I don’t want to be infested with their douchiness.” It’s contagious after all.

“What is this said incident?” you ask? Well it’s pretty simple and can happen to anyone. The story starts after a hard night of going out on a Saturday. The time was about 3 am, and after some boozin’ and movin,’ we all headed back to crash at our friend E’s place. (This is the same E who loved Mike Dunleavy. She’s a good kid though, so we’ll forgive her). 3 am is pretty late, and it seems even later when all you consumed 5 hours prior were some shots of liquor washed down with a few chips. E also got in a bit of a scuffle at the bar (which I will reference some more in a later post titled “E’s Fight Night Out”) so my energy was even more drained. Needless to say, I was about to shrivel up and die from exhaustion.

So back at E’s place, I pretty much eyed the first couch and went lights out. Cut to 4 am, a bunch of loud Stanford jerk offs barge through the room where I was sound asleep. In a moments notice I was awake while they continued their inane banter. Sensing that I had woken up, they did what any polite, courteous Stanfordian would have done: they said a half assed sorry and continued to raise hell. Son of a bitch.

I wasn’t the only one who was awoken by the volume though. I learned on my way to the bathroom E and company were also awake, probably from the noise. After the ruckus, I wasn’t really in the mood to sleep, even though I was famished, so I chatted it up with E and her friends for a bit. After about 30 mins, the noise seemed to calm down, and I suspected that our rude awakeners were sound asleep. I walked back to my bed anticipating to crash out again and to see if they all dozed off. Well they dozed off all right, on the bed that I was sleeping in! Assholes!

One of the guys noticed he had taken my bed and said, “Sorry dude, I didn’t know.” Then he went to back sleep. Real classy. I’m sorry too, dude, sorry you guys grew up to be such grade-A douchebags. I then proceeded to drive my groggy ass home at 5 am to finally get some real sleep.

In the wake of the Stanford basketball team tearing things up in the Pac-10, you would think that TPIC would be covering it. Well you think wrong, because I don’t feel like endorsing a school this week that is infested with so many jerks. Maybe later on in the month things will change, but for the purpose of this post, there’s just a teeny message I would like to relay: fuck you, you Stanfordian bed stealing assholes.

In fact, why stop there? Let’s continue with the fun. Fuck Stanford. Fuck their new stadium, fuck the color red, fuck Palo Alto.

Fuck the Stanford band. I thought Stanford was a private school, so why is the band made up of a bunch of rejects from the retarded version of the Village People? At least you got the gay looking part right.

Fuck the Stanford tree. No one thinks it’s adorable. In fact, I’m pretty sure it gives little kids nightmares because of its creepy grin on its goofy face. And learn how to handle your booze, you shitty mascot.

Fuck Hoover Tower. Nice going naming one of your landmarks after one of the shittiest presidents of all time. It’s glorious that he led us into the Great Depression. Can’t wait for the Andrew Johnson library to come out.

Fuck John Elway. What took you so goddamn long to win a Super Bowl?

Fuck that one guy on the Real World Road Rules Challenge who went to Stanford. He always loses on that show anyways, so he fuckin’ sucks.

Fuck Jim Harbaugh. Actually, don’t fuck him. We enjoy having him around so we can clown on him.

Fuck the Stanford S. North Carolina State’s S is better anyway.

Fuck you Stanford, for today. I hope you lose in the Pac-10 tournament to Oregon State or something. But go Stanford when the NCAA Tournament comes around. I got money to win after all.

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