J.J. Jenkins is a journalism freshman and Mustang Daily freshman columnist.
“I love college.”
The verse by Asher Roth never made more sense to me than when I sat around my house for a couple weeks over winter break with nothing to do but reminisce about my first quarter in San Luis Obispo.
The rest of the song simply made more sense in a newfound context and Roth’s lyrics were not as far-fetched as I previously believed — well, at least some of them.
On that note, I decided to dissect my first quarter at Cal Poly by comparing them to Roth’s experience.
“I’m nice right now, man.”
“I feel good.”
I’ll agree with Roth at this moment: I cannot complain about a warm and lazy weekend while my friends in Colorado suffered through 20 degree highs. Occasionally I would send an out-of-the-blue text to a good friend in Appleton, Wisconsin reading, “It’s 75 degrees and I’m going to the beach.”
Usually the response was snarky, coming from someone who clearly had their parka on too tight.
“If you have a drink, would you please put it in the air?”
Visualize me raising my Snapple bottle for no apparent reason as my friends and I play Apples to Apples on Saturday night. Yes, Snapple. At 11 p.m. On a weekend. Though, on second thought, it might not be what Roth had in mind.
“That party last night was awfully crazy I wish we taped it.”
“I danced my ass off and had this one girl completely naked.”
Last night … I did dance my ass off while “Party in the USA” pumped through the speakers. I might have been alone in my dorm room, disturbing the neighbors below me, but I think in the end they have come to appreciate my singing voice.
As for the second half of the verse, you might want to read my previous column to check the validity of that statement. Although, the idea of getting a girl completely naked in college was something of a Hollywood stereotype, I have heard tales of the like circulating around Cal Poly.
As freshmen, we’ve only had a couple months to work our real magic on the opposite sex, but if you’ve achieved Roth status, you might consider making a guest appearance in the Mustang Daily’s sex column.
“Drink my beer and smoke my weed but my good friends is all I need.”
“Pass out at three, wake up at 10, go out to eat then do it again.”
“Man, I love college.”
Looking back at my first quarter, the only time this statement made much sense occurred during Cal Poly soccer games and at a random hipster party (are there any other kinds of hipster parties?). I cannot say I partook in the pre-game festivities, but I sure enjoyed watching you all stumble into Spanos Stadium to watch the UCSB game.
I even found myself responsible for ensuring the safety of those in the bleachers below us while a fellow fan swayed back and forth with the action. The only time he seemed functional was when Cal Poly scored a goal as he would a jump up and down on the narrow seat in celebration without the slightest hint of intoxication. This explains why the police make DUI suspects walk in a straight line instead of jump on top of a chair.
Weed entered the equation when the crowd began to countdown from 10 nearing the end of the first half, but instead of ending at 0, they ended with 4:20 to go. Classic college.
Seconds later, marijuana smoke wafted over the crowd, and we spotted the culprits ducking beneath the crowd to take hits only to reemerge with some derogatory statement aimed at UCSB.
Those experiences, even from a sober perspective, have become some of my favorites and are go-to stories when I talk to friends back home.
“I wanna go to college for the rest of my life.”
“Sip Banker’s Club and drink Miller Lite on Thirsty Thursday and Tuesday Night Ice.”
“And I can get pizza a dollar a slice.”
Thursdays take on a new meaning in college. Rather than being a boring night before the last day of school for the week, Thursday nights mark the first day of the weekend for the slackers who do not have Friday class (and those who are in denial of the fact that they do). Recently, my “Thirsty Thursdays” have morphed into “Hoedown Thursdays” as my friends and I make our way to The Grad for line dancing.
I’ll be the first to admit we are no good, but watching cowboys in plaid shirts school us with their fancy footwork has inspired us to practice until we can throw girls into insane flips over our backs. Right now we stick with the barn dance, the electric slide and our specialty (and secret weapon) for asking girls to dance the two-step.
We made the first step toward our eventual goal this weekend by going to Ross and buying cowboy gear including country blue jeans, plaid shirts, cowboys boots and, of course, excessively large belt buckles.
Do they have a purpose? No. Do they look awesome? Yes.
Thirsty Thursday? I would venture to say yes, but the reasons differ as, after three hours of dancing in impractical cowboy boots I feel like I ran a marathon.
When it comes to $1 pizza, all I can say is, I wish Woodstock’s had that good of a deal.
During the rest of the song, Mr. Roth breaks down into an anecdote about beer pong, which somehow is rhymed with “Olajuwon” and the rules of college, but I’m running out of space in this column so I’ll have to leave the rest for later.
As you can tell, Roth was onto something and he did not at all romanticize the college experience. So, in the meantime, try to follow his (revised) advice.
“Drink my (coffee) and smoke my (tests) but my good friends is all I need.
Pass out at (midnight?), wake up at (7:30 … Nah 8:30), go out to (Metro) then do it again.
Man I love college.”