Summer is for Fucking (Part 2)

As the days get longer, classes get harder to care about, and my mind wanders to the world outside the windows. Everybody is making plans for the summer and counting the days until classes end and fun begins.

But I, for one, did not particularly enjoy last summer. A summer I spent scanning parking tickets and collecting money at a hospital parking lot right down the street from my childhood home was the last thing I expected to be doing with those four months of glorious weather and a reprieve from the dreariness of winter and classes.

So this summer, I have plans:

• Maybe I'll turn this blog into something that I'd actually want to read rather than just a catalogue of my meandering thoughts.
• I want to write a collection of short stories. I want anyone who reads this list to tell me three things that you want me to include in a story and I will do my fucking damnedest to produce something entertaining for you.
• I want to go on a road trip. Somewhere. Anywhere.
• I want to record an EP or something with the greatest fucking band anywhere near BU, The Clap.
• I want to see somebody in a crowded room staring back at me, lulling me into a trance with her eyes--or his eyes? Maybe an Otis Redding song will be playing. Maybe the night will turn into morning. The sun will probably rise. I'll make breakfast. 
• I want to accomplish something.
• I want to love somebody.
• I want suggestions from everyone on how to spend my summer.

Let's hope that this summer I don't get fucked like last year. 

Cheers to those of you who have somebody to spend the summer with. Cherish them.

~MC

P.S. Professors.

St. Patrick's Day, or Why Irish People Party Better Than Everybody Else

Imagine a band of fiddlers, mandolin pluckers, pipe corps, and Bono playing a song about the countryside. Imagine you're inside an authentic Irish pub, downing a pint with Denis Leary. Now sit back and enjoy my list of reasons why Irish people party better than everybody else.

Reason # 1: Pints of Guinness make you strong.

Reason # 2: Blonde hair, blue eyes, green shirts.

Reason # 3: Drinking in the day.

Reason # 4: Bastards on parade.

Reason # 5: Whiskey.

Reason # 6: Everyone else is pretending to be Irish and with good reason.

Reason # 7: The Dropkick Murphys.

Reason # 8: Green beer.

Reason # 9: Even a good Catholic boy doesn't have to feel guilty on this, the feast day of the patron saint of Ireland, New York, Boston, Nigeria (why?), engineers, and against snakes. Those slithering bastards.

Reason # 10: Everyone eats corned beef AND cabbage, two equally repulsive foods, and pretends to really be enjoying it.

The Golden Reason: Um, hello, Leprechauns.

Spring Brake? (Part 2)

This one might take me a few more words.

I stayed up until 5 AM the morning before going home. The previous night involved Chinese food, bears, a few bottles of wine, a beautiful woman, multi-colored dreadlocks, and a loaded handgun. I won't go into detail.

I woke up a few hours later and hurriedly packed in order to make an early bus back to New York. I didn't make the early bus. I did, however, return in time to see the Dropkick Murphys play at the Roseland Ballroom. There was this chick band called Civet. The lead singer screams a bit (she's clearly been hurt before).

Before that, I was refused service at a New York City pizza joint--the day I got back. I ate at McDonald's. Life is not fair.

Later, I was handed a garbage bag full of condoms, a pair of handcuffs, and a vibrator. Life is so not fair. This story also involves a white rat, a chest tattoo, and a trip to Australia. It's probably better if I just leave it at that.

I got a haircut and the guy  at the salon asked me for my cell phone number. I gave it to him--somewhat reluctantly and confusedly. He then explained that he wasn't asking me on a date but sometimes he has extra tickets to Red Sox games. If none of his friends can come, he said he'll give me a call. He's 55 and he and his wife have been good friends with my mom for twenty years. I felt awkward so I made some joke about NPR. He then told me about liberal conspiracies and how I'd be a conservative once I had a mortgage and kids. He's probably right. I'd drop my morals and convictions in a minute if it would make my life any easier. I'm a hypocrite. But my hair is beautiful and silky soft.

Later that night, when my friend and I were walking out of a pool hall, we saw a Petco across the street. We went in, of course, and my friend bought a black and white rat and named her Mary the Rat. This is why I hang out with him. Things are always interesting.

Other activities included collecting several dozen white rocks at some private beach and visiting my 82-year-old grandma in Queens in between writing papers and writing songs.

Now I'm back in Boston and Spring Broke--I told you about the puns.

~MC

Spring Brake AKA The Bad Puns Continue...

Time to chill out.

Turn off all of the bullshit. Turn on the TV.

Stop. Take some time to think. Figure out what's important to you.

Music. Family. Food.

Silence. Enjoy it.

My spring break so far, in less than 50 words.

More Later...

~Mc

S'no Day AKA More Bad Puns

Boston University cancelled class today. Therefore, today did not happen.

I was so fucking excited that I finally had a snow day again that I commemorated the occasion by watching a lot of TV and taking a lengthy nap. Being in college allows me to invent new ways to waste my life each and every day of my hapless existence.

My sister wrote a 9-page short story. I ate some chicken and curly fries that I found in my room.

My dad enjoyed his snow day in beautiful, scenic New Hamphire. I literally watched the Charles River thaw.

Kids in the area had snowball fights and built igloos. I decided against taking a shower.

I watched the second season of Seinfeld. It was the highlight of an entirely blissful period of time in which I would normally listen to other people tell me how to live my life and why the way I am currently doing it is wrong. 

I managed to summon the energy to walk down the hall of my dorm only to watch Jon and Kate Plus 8 and Sex and the City with Andrea. I think I'm a Miranda.

Andrea studied for her Italian midterm tomorrow. I made inane comments and philosophized about the mental well being of poor Jon (he hates himself).

Snow days are fucking awesome. Not because they allow you to finally accomplish all of those things you've been too busy to do but because they allow you to procrastinate those activities without guilt or shame.

I raise my glass to everyone else who enjoyed this snow day American-style (fat, lazy, and in front of the television).

'Til next time,

~The one and only

P.S. 35 days until Jesus comes back. I hope he brings food. Yeahhh!!!