Friday November 16
11:20 a.m. Wake up. Thursday Den pain.
11:45 a.m. I have to interview the leader of the Communist Party of Canada. Only 15 minutes late!
12:00 p.m. Oh my God, what’s he talking about?
1:00 p.m. I am now a communist. From this moment on, he’s preaching to the converted.
1:30 p.m. I need soccer cab tickets. Twelve of them. Very much looking forward to the mayhem. You see, soccer cabs are a good thing. They are the only event on campus other than Bermuda Shorts Day and the Porn Star Party where all people involved go into them looking for the exact same thing—drunkenness. A soccer cab is always a good time, either because you wake up with an amazing story to tell or you wake up next to one or two members of the opposite sex. Either way, you win. They’re different wins, but a victory is a victory.
1:45 p.m. Buying soccer cab tickets. Dinos forward and All Canadian Katie Lee is selling them.
Me: "I need 12 tickets."
Me: "I need to talk to you guys about Leanne (Pelosi, soccer midfielder and famous campus personality)."
Katie: "Haha. Ask us for Leanne stories at the cab."
Me: "I don’t think that’s such a good idea (thinking about how not sober we’ll all be)."
?> ?> ?> Katie: "This way the stories get better."
Me (now in full grin): "Alright."
2:02 p.m. HTST 489 – Espionage and the State. This is an amazing class with a very interesting professor. Dr. Gladman, a former attack pilot, reminds me of my friend Matt from high school. You always knew Matt was going places, but you never quite knew what twisted way he’d take to get there. Anyway, Gladman always drinks during class. Not alcohol, mind you, but either Brisk Ice Tea, Ocean Spray or apple juice in a juice box. Last week, he stunned the class by drinking from two juice boxes (one apple and one orange) alternating them throughout the class. Classmate and friend Lawrence Bailey pointed out this anomaly as he actually attended that class.
Today we have Brisk.
2:05 p.m. Gladman is explaining a certain situation in the U.S. intelligence community right before Pearl Harbour.
Classmate asking about a certain U.S. decision: "Were they drunk?"
Gladman chuckles while Lawrence turns and says: "I wonder when people will ask in class if I was drunk?"
"You’re always drunk," I thought.
2:31 p.m. Brisk is almost done. Will we see a juice box today?
2:45 p.m. Brisk is done. No juice box. Lucky I didn’t make that bet with Lawrence. I would have been out five bucks.
2:46 p.m. Gladman mentions midget submarines.
Me (confused): "A midget submarine?"
Lawrence (confused): "A submarine manned by midgets?"
3:00 p.m. This is a good day.
6:40 p.m. This is not a good day. My indoor soccer game is about to start. Soccer is like sex. It’s not always awesome but it should never leave you feeling bad. Strangely enough, I do not look forward to playing tonight.
7:05 p.m. My indoor soccer game starts. Indoor soccer is for losers. I don’t know why I’m on this team. Playing indoor soccer is like having Pepsi instead of Coke or like watching the Calgary Flames go on a winning streak. Both are enjoyable but neither feels right. It comes with that same eerie feeling you get when you watch a Jessica Simpson video. Jessica Simpson should be hot, but she’s not. All signs point to hot, like a nice figure, nice facial features and even a good personality. But there’s something a little off about Jessica, and there’s definitely something off with indoor soccer.
8:00 p.m. The game ends. We lost. There will be no more mention (for now) of how stupid playing on this team is. There will be no more entries for tonight. I’m upset.
Saturday November 17
12:00 p.m. Today is soccer cab day. It feels like Christmas. All bad feelings from the night before are gone. With this being the last chance to let loose before I get massacred by schoolwork, I can actually say I’m giddy.
6:00 p.m. Women’s volleyball game. The Dinos are playing Trinity Western University. This is a good opportunity to watch the best team in the country play one of the worst. The Dinos won 3–0 last night and we expect an equally gruesome beating tonight.
6:10 p.m. Listened to national anthem.
6:15 p.m. Grabbed a beer in the conveniently located beer gardens.
6:20 p.m. Talked to a couple of friends about attending the soccer cab.
6:25 p.m. Blinked.
6:26 p.m. (well actually, 6:45 p.m.) Match is over.
6:46 p.m. The Dinos won 3–0 in the quickest volleyball match I had ever seen. The second set score was 25–6. Is that allowed? How good are the Dinos? How bad is Trinity? There is no reason to talk to the coach or the players this weekend. All they would do is verbally downplay this thrashing and take the edge off my story. My story needs edge.
7:30 p.m. Dinos soccer phenom, Megan Dourado, gave a poetry reading at the Den. If she ever does that again, I recommend all of you go hear it. It’s like one of those things that gets to be "priceless" in a Mastercard ad.
8:00 p.m. Soccer cab is about to start and there’s still a men’s game to watch. I prepared for the game with friends in the crowd. As the cab approaches the crowd is getting more and more restless. A good portion of the volleyball audience has plans to waddle over to the Den after the game, and a five setter would seriously jeopardize their plans. We (I include myself in this group) hope for a three set Dinos win just like the night before.
8:30 p.m. The Dinos drop a first set marathon. The audience is divided. Some have switched over to cheering for a 3–0 Trinity win just so they can get to the soccer cab. I equate these people to fans of the Colorado Avalanche, the Arizona Diamondbacks or the Los Angeles Lakers. Shameful.
8:50 p.m. Dinos drop set number two. We noticed that Dinos setter Jon Rowe got a haircut. Former teammate Lee Czernick pointed out that with said haircut Rowe has lost "his wings." I argue that the new shorter haircut makes Rowe more aerodynamic, but Czernick disagrees. Apparently, Rowe’s last haircut helped him fly.
9:00 p.m. The lady Dinos, now in the crowd, offer an overwhelmingly positive response to Rowe’s haircut.
9:30 p.m. The Dinos lose.
10:00 p.m. Soccer cab!!! I’d write more, but I can’t do justice to the fun that was had with mere words. You can’t describe how blue the sky is. You can’t describe how tasty Alberta beef really is either. Putting a soccer cab into words when you’re hounded by papers, deadlines and Gauntlet editors is as impossible and futile as cheering for Bob Saget to have another sitcom. On the Saget tangent, fellow Full House star Dave Coulier is in town tonight at Yuk Yuk’s Comedy Club. My friend Randy is going to see him as he claims Coulier is a misunderstood genius. I don’t agree with him, but he might be on to something with the whole Full House genius thing. Remember John Stamos? He was the badass "Uncle Jesse" on Full House and has since re-appeared as the husband of supermodel and actress Rebecca Romijn. Uncle Jesse and Rebecca Romijn. If that’s not the work of a genius, what is?
Sunday November 18
12:00 p.m. I wasn’t going to do a Sunday note, but I have one thing left to say. Does anyone know what happened to my hamstring? I pulled it at the soccer cab and now it hurts to run. I don’t remember doing anything that rowdy, yet, my hamstring hurts. I’ve asked my friends what happened but they’re as clueless as I am. Unless those bastards are lying to me…
Anyway, let’s make that into a contest. The best theory as to why it was injured will win a prize. Some beer, movie tickets or some crap like that. Email all entries to firstname.lastname@example.org. I demand to know what happened to me.