I'm getting soft in my old age.

It's sad, really. I didn't drink this past weekend, at all. For no reason other than I was in Texas over thanksgiving with no one else I knew around. Since when was that ever a problem? In response to the startling revelation that I'm losing my edge, I offer a little inventory of myself at the fresh age of 23 (yes, 23 fucking years old).
Where I am: Austin, TX, in Three Oaks, living next to a middle aged gay man that already has Christmas Lights up on his windows, and some artsy kid named Sam (or steve, some S name I didn't particularly listen to) who has head-shaped sculptures up in his windows, while a black cat lives on our balcony (Christmas Lights man feeds it on a regular basis, Goddammit).
Why I'm here: well that's the $130,000 question, isn't it? Law school seems to be the answer most satisfactory to the parents and other family members (at least it makes them stop asking questions, perhaps it just confuses them). But more believably, Texas had the coolest admissions envelope of any Law School not located in the top 10 most dangerous cities in America (fuck you WashU). Also, I really needed an excuse to go on that first plane flight. And an added side benefit is the acceptable wearing of another of the world's strangest collegiate colors.
What I'm doing: Well Law School, obviously. I mean, really, what else is there to do in a town with 50,000 college students and a university labeled the #1 party school by the Princeton Review? Ok, I admit sometimes I do have time to watch an occasional movie or group dinner, but Drinking? Me? Come on, you know how I focus.
How much am I in Debt: More than the average American spends on their first house. Seriously.
Who I hang out with: Some of the most insanely random people this side of Chapel Hill. Notable Characters: a South Carolinian, which forces me to constantly curtail my bashing of the Palmetto state; A kid from Notre Dame who actually has the logo Tattooed on his back; A kid from Atlanta who has reaffirmed my faith in the power-hour; some girl from Oklahoma who majored in Piano (Seriously, Piano at OU. Just let that one marinate); and a young man from San Antonio who makes me feel secure in my own mental illness (this means he's of a comparable caliber of crazy; yay alliteration!).
How I feel about Texans: If you counter their bullshit with even greater amounts of bullshit, it shocks them. All you have to do is point out that you live in a place where snow happens (this doesn't work on the ones that go Skiing in Colorado), BBQ is made out of pork, leaves change colors (besides just brown), and people can cross state lines in less than 5 hours of driving (I guess the whole going to Mexico point applies here, but really, I've never met anyone from anywhere close, or that ever wants to go). Other than that, they're a fine bunch.
Impressions: It still makes me laugh when they try to figure out what a real North Carolina license looks like (oh shit, did I just admit drinking?), and the massive amount of holograms reflecting across our ID doesn't help the process (First in Flight, bitches!). And I miss Hardee's (although What-a-Burger is a surprisingly decent substitute). But this Alamo Drafthouse movie theater is probably the greatest idea for entertainment in the history of the world. Seriously, a movie theater that serves tons of alcohol and has waiters that come around even during the movie? Pure Brilliance.

Friday Blues

For perhaps the entirety of my educational career, I have held one holy policy above all others. One day was sacred, untouched by the blasphemy of studious activity. So friends, it is with a heavy heart that I report the failure of my own principles. It is technically a Friday at this moment, and before me sits a Contracts book. Fucking Law School. But fear not, for there is a silver lining to this gloomy cloud of despair. Diet Coke now comes in 24-packs (it's about fucking time), I have an entire carton of cheddar goldfish, and it's been almost an entire week without a cigarette. Obviously, procrastination output has not been sacrificed; I think I'm ready for the Law School shit to go down.

Killing Time

There is a scene in Memento where Leonard wakes up, comes back, returns to consciousness while running in a trailer park. His first question, "Ok, what am I doing?" He sees another man running near him. "I'm chasing this guy" he says; then the guy fires a shot at him. "Nope. He's chasing me." Memento is a post-modernist film, questioning the foundations of our concepts of knowledge, how we form it, recall it, interpret it. Or at least that's what my film criticism professor told us in his pre-recorded lecture I listened to on my way to class one day in Engl 41. For me, this scene reminds me of my life right now. I feel like I woke up running one day in Austin, in Law School, with no clear friends and no clear enemies. You never really know until they start shooting. Not to belittle the people I know here; plenty have been nice, some seem like people I'll be friends with for quite some time. But the feeling that I just fell asleep in mill creek G9 keeps haunting me; I'm in a new state, a new school, a whole new time zone. How did this happen exactly? Like Leonard, I'm not sure. Where am I going? Are these people my friends? Better yet, why am I running? We don't act based on large philosophies, on world-views, personal beliefs; we RE-act, to a stimulus, and in that action, we define exactly just who it is we are. Maybe that's the point prof. taylor wanted to get across; even if Leonard knew the score, he would act the same with a gun in his face. Who cares about all the rest, it's the action that matters.

Page 2 candy brackets

Finally, something I can get excited about in Law School. However, it's a total travesty that goddamn Red Vines knocked out Twisslers in the first round. And what the fuck are candy corn and bit-o-honey both doing in a bracket? Those crap candies should have been in the play-in game, no way both deserve a slot in the big dance. And do they even sell candy cigarettes anymore? Plus, they sucked. They would fall apart in your mouth, and tasted like dried out asshole with some sugar sprinkled on it. Obviously, I once thought they were cool. Then, I realized nicotine worked waaaay better.

Salt Lick

At the magical place called the Salt Lick, they bring you plates heaped with meat, potato salad, and cole slaw. And to top it off, the place is in a dry county, but they allow BYOB. So you roll in with a cooler of beer, an empty stomach, and a free afternoon to recover. On the way out, you can watch them cook the meat over the open smoke pit, which is pretty fucking awesome in my opinion.

They should have never given this kid a camera.

So I realize most people got digital cameras sometime in the '90's. Sorry folks, it took me long enough to fly on an airplane, much less get a camera not called a "Funsaver". But these are the first (of likely very many) few pictures I captured with my new digital device; obviously the leaves do not change in Austin like they do in North Carolina. Obviously, also, my apartment building looks sketchy, but is actually located across the street from an elementary school playground. And next door to that, the lovely Hyde Park Senior Center. I get the feeling perhaps I'm the sketchiest element in the neighborhood.

Sadly, the Playground is across the street

photos of my apartment in Austin, with absolutely no explanation

final

It's not finals because I only had one. One and done, I guess you could say. The contrast of my final exam with the rest of my examination lifestyle is shocking. As opposed to good clothes and a solid breakfast, I wore mesh shorts and had a banana. Instead of studying all night, I went to bed at 2am and had not finished 2 of the 4 books on the test. And up till about 15 min before it began, I was debating skipping this administration for the next one, a week later. And how did all this turn out? Well, on an exam of 5 questions, I somehow decided that 1 might be optional. Thinking this was optional, I obviously did not do it. And obviously again, this was a retarded mistake. Luckily for me, Linda Wagner-Martin is a badass. When emailed to ask if I had missed a question, her first reply was that she hadn't even unpacked them yet; then, the confirmation email that I had in fact ignored an entire question. At this point, many professors would give me some partial credit scheme, or another prompt, something to make up the slack. Good old L-WM gives me the exact copy, an empty office, and an entire day to do the question. That, folks, is a perk of being a senior.

#1

Figures that I should get around to this on the last day of classes. When I began this prolonged process of listing (not really been on top of posting daily lately) I didn't know what all of them would be. I didn't know where I would go to law school. I definitely didn't know if I would be a Carolina student for 3 more years or not. But I knew what would be number 1. This one isn't a specific problem, more of a general feeling I get from the school and the town. It is becoming a city of ghosts for me. Every Dorm, every classroom, even benches and trees, are memories of people that aren't here, or there, anymore. Morrison is like the gutted skeleton of my undergraduate career; the building is there, but it's not like I left it. Chase is gone, Ray Felton is gone, and in just a few days the rest of my class will be as well. Not that I blame this on the school, or the town of chapel hill. If everyone could live here forever, then the experience would be as cheap as a cosmic burrito (veggie with sour cream, please). It's the fact that we come here lost and confused, and leave in much that same way that creates the warm, fond memories of Chapel Hill. It's not sullied by our first jobs, our failed marriages, and the shadow of our hometown's gossip. It's a waystation where we all come in out of the rain of real life, have a drink or two, then move on. I'd love to catch everyone in a bottle and take them to Austin with me, but it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be as cool to see that kid from CTOPS finally out at the bar, and it would hurt much worse to find out that girl has a steady boyfriend who goes to State. Things are softer here, like the pain of rejection, the fear of responsibility, and the pressure of life. Some people would say it's unrealistic, that college kids are living in a bubble of privilege. We are; but we (for the most part) earned it, and the real world comes calling soon enough. So I hate UNC for reminding me of that first day when I rode the CTOPS bus, and that terribly awkward name game played in a circle in Dey. And for that first day of finals, no sleep and 2 cigarettes outside of Hamilton in the rain. Waking up to 90 degree heat with NO A/C in Ehringhaus. Finding my roommate passed out on top of his girlfriend in the hall. And all the rest of the times, things stupid to remember like eating at chickfila or taking a nap in the union. I don't hate UNC for giving me all this, and its a selfish hate to wish it wouldn't make me remember. But we're all a little selfish in the end aren't we?

Hello Motherfucking April

2. "Lack of Parking"- No self-respecting business that expected to succeed would build a facility with inadequate parking. If you consider that the university of North Carolina is a business, with the goal of educating the future of NC, then we are failing miserably at our goal. Because standing between those eager, bright-eyed young pupils and the golden knowledge they seek is an impossible gap; that gap is parking, and the lack thereof. Yes the town is small. Yes, the school is large. And yes, driving everywhere is not a good idea for the environment, economics, or physical activity of students. But if you have ever tried to park on campus around 7pm on a Monday, you will realize the maddening, infuriating, inept parking hell that South Building has crafted. Not only do the meters last till 9pm, but the "free spaces" fill up around 4:30 (parking opens at 5). And so, a high-stakes game of cat and mouse spacehunting begins. SUV's are fucked; vans are fucked; and only motorcycles can feel reasonably certain of finding a space within the 30 minutes you have until you're expected at work, at a meeting, at class, in the library, etc. So fuck it, I say. Let's build decks as far as the eye can see. Free Parking all day. I'm not saying we ignore the aesthetic qualities of our fine campus; but we can do a bit more than we've done so far.

A crazy game of poker

Number 3 has been a long time in coming. Sadly, the source of my motivation for most blog postings is procrastination; with only 4 hours of classes, procrastination (other than the Clusterfuck the Swim Test has turned out to be) has been a non-factor in the final undergraduate semester of Alex. But with a midterm tomorrow at 11, the hour for inspiration is upon me.

3."UNC Law"- The odd game of chance that is my Law School decision process goes a bit like this: I have a hand I've built over the past four years here at UNC, all those facecard friends, random pairs that worked out (or didn't quite match up) and the unlucky number card that slipped in somehow that just keeps me from a full house or a straight. Maybe if I hold on to the Ace and clear the rest of the hand, I'll end up a winner (Austin, anyone?) or maybe I'll pull one dog of a hand. That's the gamble I'm looking at right now, and the stakes are pretty high. But something is holding up the game right now, and that something is a letter from UNC Law. I never said the acceptance letter, or the denial letter, or the waitlist letter, and the reason I never said is because I don't know which letter it will be. I'm waiting on any letter at all, and that's the problem; it's like having a 5 card hand, with 3 face down. Because until that letter gets here, I'm not playing with a full hand. And this is all the more ridiculous when one considers that on April 15th, the other schools that somehow found the time to admit a poor Phipps will be expecting some sort of Deposit to confirm my decisions. One finds it hard to throw out cards you've never seen. To further my displeasure, this is the only school to choose such a lackadaisical admissions process. Schools of all shapes and sizes have found a way to expedite the process, and these schools paid much more in postage than it will take for the roughly half-mile journey that UNC's letter will have to embark on. I would even be willing to make the journey myself to pick it up, if only I was informed that it was waiting in the appropriate receptacle. I've heard that No News is Good News, but I don't think it applies in this situation. I'm not saying that UNC will be the place I go to law school if I am allowed in, nor am I saying that I expect to be admitted. But, I am saying that I've got that gamblers itch and it's a terrible waste of time to watch the dealer keep shuffling the deck, while I sit and wait on UNC law.

Sparta is my muse

And as such, it has inspired me to create.

4. "South Campus Renovation" - So we have a master plan; some great vision to lead this campus through its transitions to the 21st century. And some kid must have drawn this plan with crayons on the back of a restaurant placemat. Because otherwise, we really wasted that money paying the planners. Making south campus the center of campus? Why build more dorms, farther and farther away from classes? Because of the overwhelming demand to move south? Better Climate? The aura from the Dean Dome wears off about the 3rd week of classes; trust me, I had 2 years in the Ehringhaus Community. There are some good things about being down south, but most of them revolved around the shared suffering that all underclassmen endured while dreaming of making it North. We had the stinky dining hall, we had the highrise dorms, we had the underage drinking, we had the P2P. All real cool shit, until you grow up, get a car, turn 21, and realize that you gained 20 lbs and ruined some clothing eating that shit. And sharing a little box of a shower with 7 people sucks some huge throbbing cock (gratuitous homo-erotic reference for those other residents of G9). So why try and build more, shift the focus, and generally encourage this part of campus to expand even more? Like the Hospital didn't create enough traffic and parking drama. Basically, we are trying to make our own superdense college zone, so we can give that school in Raleigh a run for giant, treeless, depressing concrete and brick campus of the year. I'm sure you are saying, so Alex, you magnificent bastard (if you really say that, badass) what do you think we should do about expansion? Well, #1, I don't want it to happen. But if happen it must, why not work together with Chapel Hill to perhaps create a center of town, instead of just going outward? Why not cross Franklin street? There was always that Carolina North idea, 30 years in the making, that still has not happened. And if CH can make their surface lots into hotels and condos, and other random space they have yet to decide, why not buy a bit of that for us? Because obviously, if faced with the choice of living next to the hospital or a street full of bars and restaurants, I'd choose the bars (shocker, I know).

#5 and such

5. "The Swim Test"- Yes I realize the relative ease of the required Swim Test. Yes, I am confident that I can pass it. But, why should this University require successful completion in order to receive a Degree? How in the world can swimming make you a better Lawyer, Doctor, or Teacher? I'm sure that everyone will now remind me that it's a good thing to have well-rounded students; ones that will not come to an untimely death while riding a paddleboat, or falling off a fishing pier. However, for those of us who never learned the art of swimming, why should we now be forced by our "University of the People" into that irrational and unnatural act? Sadly, instead of going as a bright-eyed freshman and waiting enthusiastically in line, I am forced to struggle to find my oldass pair of swimming trunks that have not been used since a previous spring break (used, as in worn to drink in the pool, not Olympic swimming pool laps) and pray that I don't drown from some sort of hangover-inactivity combination. Thank you, Carolina. And perhaps the most infuriating development: Incoming freshmen no longer are required to take the test. So the University has seen the error of its ways. Yet, I am still required to take the swim test to graduate? What a fucktabulously ridiculous situation.

Continued

6. "Student Government"- Perhaps it was once an honor to serve on the student government's boards, in the student congress, or among the honor court. I definitely admire the idea of a student body governing itself, administering its own judicial decisions, etc. But honestly, these days, the elections, the candidates, and the entire process have become a circus for the DTH to waste pages on. We have a generic, white, usually well connected candidate (Cary, Charlotte, or some other well-to-do area). We have a generic minority candidate, supported by the BSM, or whatever other various student organizations deem him/her worthy. And then we proceed to the worthless online elections. Has anyone stopped to wonder who calculates the totals? Where is the open process of election tallying? Since we have a completely online process, we are at the mercy of ATN. And when the internet happens to malfunction (see this year's election process) we are left with a judgment that is not only flawed, but perhaps completely fabricated. Yes, this is a conspiracy theory. But honesty, if the presidential election can come down to a few counties in West Palm Beach, why can't a few-hours-long blackout of campus networks be a deciding factor? And in the end, all we get is a huge popularity contest for who will get to add this to their resume. Because what agenda has succeeded in the past few years? We got a bike pump that didn't work. We got tuition raises that we could not oppose. And all of this after we were promised much more. Let us be honest these days: no student elected officer has any power beyond a column in the DTH.

10 Things I hate about U(NC)

Yes, I realize how bad this title sounds. And no, I don't suddenly hate the University of the People. But, like a married couple with a few years under their belt, I think that I can recognize a few traits in my partner that rub me the wrong way without calling off the entire relationship.
Obviously, I love UNC, but in my 4 years here, I have picked up on a few less-than-ideal traits. Here are a few of my best(worst?):

10. "Pepsi for Coke"- When I was a freshman, coke machines flourished in their natural habitat, the basement of dorms. Coca-Cola is still present at all sporting events, and evidently is quite a sponsor of our athletics. But the dorm basements, fountains of lenior, and student union? You stand a better chance of finding a Carolina fan in Cameron Indoor than a Diet coke in a UNC drink machine. Ridiculous.

9. "Campus Mail"- I once recieved a package of cookies for my birthday from my parents. My birthday is Nov. 27th. The package arrived in January. I believe this is reason enough to hate the Campus Mail system.

8. "The PR lot"- Hey guys, instead of building enough parking decks on campus for all the students that want a space, let's just pick a random wooded area, say, 2 miles off campus, and put a big gated parking lot there! We can have this really slow bus (NU) run there on an unpredictable schedule. Maybe we'll even put a security guard in a little booth, to give the apperance of security. Sounds like an awesome plan for Undergrad parking. They have plenty of time, they won't mind wasting 2 hours a day just getting their cars! (see also: lack of parking, #2)

7. "ONYEN password"- ATTENTION UNC STUDENT: Your ONYEN password is set to expire in 7 days. You cannot change your password back to an old password. You Must Use numbers, letters, and a special character. You must change this password every 3 months. And if you should let it expire, well, you better have the time to come have it reset. How do you expect to set your computer to remeber passwords when they change every 3 months? After a never-ending stream of Carolina#1, #1Carolina, Carolina@1, (sorry, none of these are actually my password these days) I long for the days of the 6 character passwords of the simpler days.

Next time, reasons 4 through 6 of my senior-year diatribe.

Bush league

Last week at bub's, after a night of solid drinking and attempting to remeber those Summer of 69 lyrics that I've actually never known, A miracle happened: I recalled how to properly Tie a Necktie. Big Deal? Yes, now I can forge ahead with the plans of being a Lawyer. Thank you, 1980-1989, Bub O'malley's, and Coors Light for making the dream a reality.

Malfuction

When I came to college, I got a cellphone. Everyone has cellphones at college. I had this cellphone, with its crappy-ass ringtone and Green/Black screen, for 3 years. In all this time, the phone pulled some gayass tricks (holding a full charge for 2 hours, forgetting how to vibrate properly, and losing the function of the vital 2 (ABC) key). But never did the little solider fail to operate because of physical trama. Plenty of spills, plenty of blackouts, gallons of jagermester; I was still on the Sprint free and clear plan. Then the new bitch rolls into town, promising a camera, color, and speakerphone. And as soon as the humble narrator gets sufficently wasted, what happens? BAM, right on the sidewalk, out flies the goddamn batterypack/simcard clusterfuck, and Alex Phipps is off the Grid. Now, I realize that yes, this can happen to any phone with the proper combination of physics and inebriation. But TWO times? And both in the highly vital drunk dialing/texting primetime of post 2am barnights? The replacement of the battery pack is not so difficult when sober. There are little graphics illustrating the proper technique with which to replace your battery pack, should you be retard enough to misunderstand the obvious insert-till-click fundamentals. But all understand the lack of coordination that goes along with alcohol consumption. And the loss of reasoning and fine motor skills as well. In the end, when both sides seem to be black, and covered with symbols (chinese writing and a numbered graphic illustrating battery installation seem strikingly similar after 3 LIT's) there exists an infinite number of incorrect combinations. This is frustration on a level never before encountered with cellular devices. There are currently 2 large impact sites on the bottom of the offending device; it seems perhaps the slim, pocket-fitting design is actually aerodynamically designed to direct the phone to impact resulting in maximum confusion and disaster. Fuck you, Motorola. It seems that they have accomplished what thousands of angry girls never could: preventing an Alex Phipps Drunk Dial.

Look Homeward, Angel

It's about damn time someone put a post on here. Yep, valentine's day. How about that? Not that any guy really gives a fuck about valentine's day; all guys give a fuck about is what will happen if they don't give a fuck (or give the well-crafted facade of fuckgiving). I have undertaken the herculean effort of reading the 528 pg. novel of Mr. Thomas Wolfe's fame, in the period of a week. Not a good call on my part, despite the overall quality of the work. Yes, the birthright novel of all Carolina English students (as any teacher will happily remind you) is quite a work to behold; being unacquainted with the work until my final semester, I'm slightly saddened that I never read it before. I'm also slightly saddened that I decided to pick this book to read in a week and give a damn presentation on. For those of you wondering why this stands in the way of a Man with 1 real class (weightlifting is quite a challenge for the senior, but honestly, you don't have to take it home with you), please recall the width and breadth of the events of late. There was the slight matter of the Duke game (god bless the scrub team; what coach puts in his B team and actually closes the gap on Duke??) a bit of heavy drinking to do on thursday and saturday, and a night of fine (free) film viewing in the wonderfully modern student union auditorium (who knew that seats could actually put the cheeks of your ass to sleep? Padded seats! to sleep! both cheeks!). In the end, the culprit behind the complications, as those who follow the trials of Phipps will know: procrastination. Yes, like the mysterious serial killer in CSI, the bastard rears his ugly head; keeping me enprisoned in bed till all hours of the day, up at night drinking red bull and diet coke while I should be slumbering on the rock-ass hard twin bed that Mill Creek delightfully provided for me, and generally preventing the academic and physical excellence that otherwise would be mine. Add in his friend alcohol, and you have a diagnosis: chronic senioritis.

Filly's

I used to have a nice red coat that my mother bought me for Christmas. I'm sure that she will be happy to hear her son drunkenly misplaced the garment at a strip club in Winston-Salem. The son also cut his finger opening a corona in a moving automobile, and busted his knee drunkenly stepping over a curb. Thanks for signing the checks mom, I'm really running with this higher education, mature adult theme. Kickass. I had never seen a stripper fall down on stage until my trip to winston. It wasn't that cool.

Frontsitter

I'm not a frontsitter. Never have been, never even thought about becoming one. Since the early days of childhood, I've made the back of the room home. My haven. Usually behind one of those kids that got a growth spurt or gained a shitton of weight over the break, so I hide and live in peace. All through primary and secondary education, this was the accepted location whenever seats were not assigned. But then you come to college, and the influx of overachievers begins. What the fuck? Why would you want to sit there? What are you going to get out of it, besides making absolutely sure the rest of the students think you're a tool of enormous proportions. Yet, people continue. Personally, I've found the Frontsitters tend to be the ones most likely to freak out and break down. Most likely to buy all the books, then bring the worthless motherfuckers to class, everyday, just to put them out and feel fucking superior. Frontsitters tend to be the fucktards that ask questions as the class is coming to an end, or perhaps right before a vital explanation of what they just chose to ask a question about. Fuck them. As for me, I'll sit where I can put my head against the wall. Might as well be a comfortable Underachiving asshole.

moment of clarity

I don't know how to go to bed early. It's sad, really. I tried last night; I got in bed at a pathetic 3:15am. My body does not believe in the value of the morning hours, and all the the trying in the world by the cognizant portion of my being has not changed this fact. Tonight, I do not do the usual tuesday night drinking; it has become abundantly clear that being drunk would actually assist in the sleep-provoking process. God, imagine the possiblities if I could be awake before 12pm! I'm not even sure what could happen really, the only time I'm ever up that early is for exams or work, and neither promotes a happy and productive modus operandi. It's troublesome. It's irritating. It's inevitable. Worst of all, I haven't had a fast-food breakfast in 2 months. No egg-fucking-mcmuffins. No made-from-scratch hardee's biscuits. No enormous omlet sandwhich from burger-shit king. Oh wait, that sucks anyway, and I never ate breakfast there because it's the world's worst fast food resturant. Fuck burger king, and waking up with the king, and any other gayass king activities that will plague the NFL playoff advertising. Think about it: one day, I wake up early, well, sorta early, like maybe 9am (let's not get too crazy here) achieve a productive day, and actually eat a meal called breakfast before a time called noon. Unprecedented, and probably inconceivable. Especially while staying up till 3:15.

Return of the King

Maybe if you drink for a few days, your brain just gets fried. Things are in about that situation around here. Sadly, when you don't have MWF classes, temptation abounds. But in the end, you realize that college is slipping away like sand in the bullshit clique hourglass, and you drink by the case. Yes, I'm wasting away, perhaps in margaritaville, but isn't it a good time? Only problem that arises from drinking on consecutive days is that you quickly exhaust your supply of totino's pizza and turkey lunchmeat. So if you decide that you want to consume on any given night, let me know, I'm sure i'll be game, or easily convincable.

Sandwhiches are pretty much kickass

I probably eat near a loaf of bread a week. Nothing is easy, fast, and satisfying like a good sandwhich. Maybe some peanut butter on there, or maybe some turkey. If you're feeling wild, you can even put a little baby spinach or something on there, toast it up a bit. IF you wanna get technical, hamburgers are just badass ground meat sandwhiches. And everyone knows how kickass chicken sandwhiches are (wendy's spicy chicken anyone?). You can make a kickass sandwhich when you put shit between bagels; since the bagels are like super slices of bread, its like a big kickass meal. Quesidillias are just mexican food's cheesy, and quite tasty, answer to the sandwhich question. Biscuits you say? Well biscuits make the most badass sandwhiches of all. Obviously I have an eating obsession that may be a problem. But fuckdamn, who can resist when faced with such temptation? probably I should resist blogging when hungry in the future...

Something Beautiful

Degree Tracking Requirements for: Phipps, Alex M
Swim Requirement: N
Cumulative GPA: 3.271
Expected Date: 5/06

-----------------------------GRADUATION REQUIREMENTS--------------------------------
1. PASS ENGL 83 (3 HOURS) AND PHYA 33 (1 HOUR)
2. PASS SWIMMING TEST REQUIREMENT

Degree audit system, University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill.

Best Sweater Ever

Man, my cousin lauren knows just what I wanted for christmas.