Right after Homecoming I started getting these e-mails from a group of
Tufts DU alums in my Gmail account. (NAMES AND E-MAILS ARE OMITTED FROM HERE ON OUT) I tried to tell them that they have
the wrong guy. It seems that pants.m.dispenser is probably their friend,
whereas pants.dispenser and pantsdispenser are both arriving in my
mailbox. I have repeatedly told them I am not the right guy. But, as
happens when people just hit "reply to all", there's no way to correct
it easily, plus these people are friggin idiots.

The up side is that things have taken a nasty turn. An amusingly nasty
turn. And it's even funnier to me that they have not even contemplated
that their friend, "Pants Dispenser," has not once responded. Maybe it's
because they are just calling ach other names and insulting each other,
instead of reminiscing or being *anything* other than dumb frat
assholes. I might post some of it here.

Quote of the Millenium

"The secret to dating two women at once? Easy. Have two cell phones!"- Atlanta Falcons QB Michael Vick, on Monay Night Football

Totally on HBO right now

Her Alibi (1989)

Pants Dispenser actually dispensed Pants at Homecoming

Homecoming 2005 By the numbers:

Number of fall pledges: 1
Number of times said pledge showed up at the house with no pants: 1
Number of pairs of pants lent to said pledge at 3:30am Friday night by
yours truly: 1 (note: my blog is pantsdispenser.blogspot.com, though it
is named for an old David Letterman bit)
Number of brothers threatened with legal action by yours truly for
failing to come to said pledge's aid: 1
Number of times DLS asked our one pledge to stop speaking Spanish: 1
(and loudly!)
Number of pledges at homecoming dinner: 0 (whathefuck?)
Number of wicker tiki hats incinerated by JEC: 2
Number of charcoal briquettes used at homecomiung tailgate by actives: 0
Number of bags of charcoal found on the smoking porch after tailgate: 2
Number of logs used in the weber: 3 or so small ones
Number of hand saws used to flip burgers at homecoming tailgate: 1
Number of minutes of hail Saturday afternoon: approx. 2
Number of hours most of us were drunk Saturday: 14
Number of porn videos watched: 2
Number of times Jock Wilson passed out before 10pm only to reawaken and drink
more: 2
Number of brothers named Jock Wilson not on the lineage tree: 1
Number of punches thrown by brothers at other brothers: too
many. for the love of God, please stop this game. (see
what webMD has to say)
Number of passive aggressive pseudo-prayers by TPL to open
Sunday corporation meeting:1
Number of pages of LAST FUCKING YEAR'S corporation meeting minutes
available for review and approval: FUCKING 0.
Number of proxy votes written on e-Brett's Ass: 1
Number of proxy votes written on a pizza box: 2
Number of places found to be "lacking privacy" MN tried before
deciding to sleep FUCKING OUTSIDE: like, four or something. (or is that
FUCK OUTSIDE AND SLEEP?)
Number of positive or indeed brotherly words spoken to SB '72 the
whole weekend: 0
Number of Slip 'n Slides still on the hill behind the house: FUCKING
FOUR!
Number of mattresses still on the hill: take a wild guess
Number of pitchers or shots I was able to buy at Dunbars in 15 minutes:
Zero.


This was one of the best homecoming weekends in years. We laughed, we
cried, and Cornell beat Georgetown by a million points. Hoo-rah.

Area Woman: “I’m perfect for you, John Mayer.”

NEW YORK, NY—Startling co-workers Monday morning with tales of a near-escalation of a celebrity-crush arms race, Teldar Paper employee Allison Hughes bemoaned John Mayer’s continued absence from her life. Hughes previously has idly dreamed about meeting singer-songwriter Mayer.

“My roommate and I went to Target in the south Bronx, and she said on the way home that she likes John Mayer. And I said, ‘I love John Mayer.’ And then she’s like, ‘No, I loooooove John Mayer.’ I decided I would have to back down so that we didn’t end up with hurt feelings, but omigosh- I love John Mayer!”

“My new roommate met him once in Times Square, how come I never have? Though he hangs out in Union Square a lot. How come I haven't met him there? We’d be perfect for each other,” said Hughes, 26, while photocopying newspaper articles. “I mean, he’s so great! He's smart, he's talented...he's so cute and perfect! It’s a stupid celebrity crush- don’t you guys ever have celebrity crushes? I mean, he could write me songs and talk to me sweetly…we were meant to be together.”

Co-worker Pants Dispenser Operator, upon hearing this for the umpteenth time, began a rousing chorus of Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain” and was immediately joined by administrative assistant Eloise Foley. A parody of Paula Cole’s “I Don’t Want to Wait”, was unsuccessfully begun as follows:

I don’t want to wait
Until you meet John Mayer
I want to know right know
Be Mayer Free?
I don't want to wait
Until you find John Mayer
In Union Square so he can say
’Scuse me.

"Don't let John Mayer offend your masuclinity," said Hughes, reacting to the singing.
"Yeah, right," countered Pants Dispenser Operator. "That guy is a wuss."