Friday, November 17, 2006

Chris and Rutgers

I loved college. I got drunk, I hung out with the most fucked up, funny people I've ever met in my life, I committed petty acts of vandalism without fear of reproach and basically did whatever I wanted. (Get drunk in the computer lab and look at porn? Go right ahead! Sleep in on a Thursday until 4:30 p.m. after a night of playing Coach K College Basketball with some cokeheads? Sure thing!) And despite the many semesters where I barely escaped academic probation, I actually enjoyed some of my classes and professors. I'm still trying to pathetically hold onto those years, now that I am a full-time employee and grad student at my alma mater.

My brother was an overachiever in high school. Good grades, heavily involved in all kinds of clubs (including high school musicals), vague popularity. He had a stellar high school resume and had his pick of colleges. The one he chose was Rutgers.

This makes sense, being it's the state university of the great state of New Jersey. But from the minute our mom unpacked a box for him in his dorm room, Chris hated college and spent nothing but his time complaining and looking for any way out of it. Even though a ridiculous amount of his best friends and his girlfriend went to the same school.

How two brothers could have a college experience on opposite sides of the coin has always baffled me. It's not like Rutgers totally sucks -- I mean, I didn't go to school there, but I crashed on disgusting couches and slept on vermin-infested floors all over New Brunswick. If I wasn't in Philly, I was up at Rutgers. At Rutgers you could at least get food within walking distance. At La Salle, the food stores were drug fronts like Old Face Andre's on The Wire.

But something curious has happened to my younger brother in the past few days. He, like the rest of the state of New Jersey, has come down with a case of Scarlet Fever after Rutgers' spellbinding upset of Louisville and emergence as a national championship football contender. My brother, who has practically lobbied for a terrorist attack on Piscataway and New Brunswick, has even been seen wearing Rutgers sweatshirts. Even more baffling in his 180... I don't think my brother even really likes sports.

What's next, Chris, a tattoo of Mike Teel eating a Fat Moon (with extra pussy juice) on your calf?

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