new accounts.

I feel as if the start of this year is all about new things. New classes, new notebooks, new outlooks on life (or attempts to look at life differently), new goals, new routines, new fwiends etc. It's my senior year and i've been told by past graduates that your school e-mail account expires once you graduate unless you continue your graduate studies at the same institution. another thing to point out, my advertising classes are really emphasizing social media and how sites of the kind are being used to market products and services to its consumers...

Therefore, I have decided to do the unthinkable...get a twitter. Yeah, after so many times trash-talking the site for its "status-like" attributes, I have begun to follow people, be followed, attempt to retweet tweets from others, and stay in "the know." Plus, i feel as if this is a great opportunity to do some added research for major ad projects i have this fall. Damn, i'm goooood. Other accounts I've started are a g-mail account - going back to the whole school e-mail expiring. I need an e-mail address that employers can contact me at...because I feel as if they see my old AOL e-mail address they wouldn't hire me (oxymoron-related screen names about my chest are not appropriate for finding a job, kids).

And another account would be this one ! My whole reasoning behind starting a blog is to reflect on how i was feeling about things on my mind and recording them in special place on the Internet for all to see, which reminds me that I have to fix my privacy settings on here. I wanna look back on my final year of college and look at the ridiculous shit i wrote about things that annoy, people who annoy me, things about myself that annoy other people, and random shiz on my mind. Kinda like a diary of sorts. But this one i hope to update regularly throughout the year.

***Side note: the whole time I was writing this post, the same kid walked through the student union about 3 times, and constantly just kept coughing. Like really loud. Everytime he walked past the desk, he was coughing. Get a fucking cough drop, bro. That's all :) ***

Follow me on twitter!! http://twitter.com/Jules_allen

Premium Malt Beverage.

I studied abroad in Australia for four and half months last semester. I considered it the greatest time of my life and I still do. In fact, I cry about it sometimes. And I find myself getting really depressed about not being there. I mean, it was great to see friends and people I haven't seen in a long time but there's still a part of me back in that wonderful country.

The reason for the title of this post is due to how much new things I didn't know about while I was away. One such new thing was this new trend around college campuses and little babies who like to get drunk with something they can afford with money they made from mowing someone's lawn. A new premium malt beverage: Four Loco.

My friend Ali, likes to call it Four "Noco" because it's that potent in fun juice qualities. Many people who I've talked to say "this shiz'll fuck you up, yo." And things like "dang, man, shoot, fuck that shit be craaaazy." Haha no they don't talk like that...all the time but basically, yeah this stuff is lethal. Four Loko comes in this large-and-in-charge can that's probably the size of two beers or maybe more than that. It's got this weird camo design but obviously in different colors depending on what flavor it is. And it says 12% Alcohol. Shit. One of these bad boys will make you party like your vagina is on fire. Even guys! It's like Girls/Guys Gone Wild after one of these tricks. Haha only joking...I think.

So I decided to give it a shot and see if this shiz will fuck me up.

The corner store (yes, where I go to school is where one can find a corner store everywhere...they don't even have to be on corners!) close to my friend's house only sold two flavors. I opted for Cranberry Lemonade...hey, it might be like one of those other PMB's: Mike's Hard. $2.50 later, I was on my way to Locoville.

Another thing about the can of insanity: It says "We ID" in a little circle near the top. I love how the can is telling consumers and attempted buyers that it, the can, ID's its users. You know, just in case the clerk forgets to ID someone.

This shit was nauseating. Or maybe it was just the flavor, but it sucked ass. I don't know what the fuck kind of alcohol is in that but one really can't put a peg on it. If anything, it could be filled with cheap grain alcohol or street juice concocted by a Creole voodoo specialist. Ugh. This was no Mad Dog hobo alcohol (if you never tried Mad Dog, just ask a homeless person...it's not bad). It's almost like slightly carbonated fruit juice with alcohol added to it. The can has no ingredients list or nutritional information (haha) so I wouldn't know what the fuck is in it except caffeine, guarana, and the color Red #40 or something like that. Because knowing what shade of red is really important.

It took me about 2 hours to finish. It was unbearable. I only wanted to finish it just so I could say I did. But as I sipped on it, I did feel the effects. Whoooooooo i got full, and googly-eyed but I didn't have a desire to take my top off or make out with anyone. I was chill, enjoyed myself and talked to people without slurring my words. Then I sobered up, got bored, and called a cab to go home. But it was fun. I don't know about Cranberry Lemonade. I hear Watermelon was rather promising. Maybe next time.

Debauchery & Sunbathing Sheila

This is where my goal-setting starts to turn awry. When I was little I had numerous journals that I would write in. I would be really good and write in it every night before bed. But sometimes I'd get lazy and I'd skip a day, having to write even more in my next entry. A skipped day turned into a skipped 5 days, then 8 days, then 13 days, then a month and then I'd think to myself, "Fuck it. I don't need to write this shit down. I'm a kid! I'll just remember it!" Hah, yeah no.

I'd look through my old journals years later and look at what I wrote. God, I was so dumb and emo...always mad at friends who were mean to me ha. Sheesh, I was lame and I still am but instead of complaining to a journal about mean people, I poop on their lives - despite what I said in my last post about not doing so...but c'mon, it's not like they know who i'm talking about :)

Anywho, yeah so i'm trying not to get lazy with this shit. I wanna make this blog...EPIC ha. like this year but i don't know if that'll happen. We'll just have to wait and see and keep up with fluster nuggets.

So yesterday was my first day of work even though I've been working in the same student union for 3 years. And i was actually supposed to show up for work last monday even though classes didn't start until tuesday. Oops. My boss reminds me of Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh so he didn't mind that I didn't show up and if he did, he'd just say "It's Okay, Jules" in his Eeyore-esque voice. He's great.

The student union was poppin' like popcorn. Heaps of froshie babies and stupid sophomores were walking in and out and eating and laughing and looking afraid of college (the froshie babies). And i say stupid sophomores because when i was in high school the sophomore class my senior year was really obnoxious and thought they were the shit because they already dealt with the whole froshie baby experience and thought they ruled campus. Eat my buns, doucher pups.

But I had a lot of shit to do like move tables and get keys and open locked doors and point people in the direction of the cafeteria even though they were staring right fucking at it. But i did enjoy greeting people. I like that. Unless they're rude and mean. After a long day (4 hours) or work I had a lovely night class to look forward, which like my other Advertising night class, is gonna be fucking awesome. And I have it with pretty much the same people I had ad classes with. That's what I was told: once you finally start taking classes for your major, you start seeing the same people almost everyday. So it's good to know that I'm taking awesome classes with crazy thinkers like myself.

Mind you, I spent a good amount of time on campus: a solid 12 hours almost. Woof. And that was mostly thanks to not just my weirdo schedule but my special friend Sheila. She's a purple (specifically Black Currant) colored 1999 Honda Accord V6 two-door that my mom gave to me to drive to and from campus with this year. I live a trek away from school so a car is ideal to get there unless I wanna walk thru a well-known rape trail and corn stalks and get murdered by the children who live among those stalks but that's a risk i'm willing to take considering my fucking car likes to sunbathe in the heat. I swear this car hates my stinkin' guts. My madre didn't have to deal with her not starting - I mean, once in a blue moon but Sheila does not start for me when it's sunny out. Beyond pissed. On top of that my best friend...the golden nugget of all nuggets (her hair is blonde...when she maintains her "ruts") rushed to go to a class at her gym and left the front door completely...wide...open. I was in the shower when that happened. No big deal, a creepy man is waiting for me outside the bathroom with a machete waiting to cut me up and put me in a cooler and send me along an inlet of the Long Island Sound. Really, totally safe.

As for the debauchery part that occurred later that night made up for the shittay parts of the day. Granted, my car still refused to start in 64 degree weather when it was dark as night. Actually, it was dark as fuck outside considering it was 9:00pm. Fucking car. Anywho, we got shit sorted, got our fwiends who came with, got dolled up and were off for the city in a matter of 45 minutes. I looked rather sluticious in my floral..."shress" (shirt dress: its long enough to be a shirt/top but still almost safe to be a dress depending on how tall one is). We arrive within 20 minutes, avoiding waiting for trains and then having to find seats, and then dealing with little college babies being ridiculous and loud and uber excited about getting into a swank bar in the city without having to have a decent fake. I haaaate people.

When I speak of we, I'm talking about two male companions who know how to kick butt in the field and our friend who had her period that night. Oh, and my best friend. Duh. We were lucky enough to find parking a block away from the bar. The reasons why it was going to be so poppin' Thursday night was because 1) it was the first (thirsty) Thursday of the school year AND 2) it was the last Thursday said bar would be open. Yes, unfortunately the bar we frequented when we were little babies was closing its doors after the weekend.

We heard through the grape vine that the bar was already crowded by 9:30pm, most likely with people who were afraid they wouldn't get in and people who didn't wanna wait to get sloshed. The line was really long outside but we only had to wait in it for about 15 minutes :) And when I say "we" this time, I'm speaking of myself, my best friend, and our friend who had her period that night. We all did stunts guest bartending at this place and the manager walked out to take a lookie look at who was in line and found us 3 stooges, pointed, and said "You three, come with me." Damn, I felt so hot. Then that feeling fizzled out when I saw stupid girls acting really dumb inside with drinks spilling all over the floor. I think I know who to thank for the slipperyness and stickiness. Bitches.

All in all, great success. The bar was crowded as fuck as elbows fought their way there just to be served. However, the biffle and I casually stayed quiet and waited for bartenders to come to us. Which they did, and we didn't have to pay cent. Great success. Although, a word of advice to stupid underage raggamuffins: If you get into a bar no problem and you get served alcohol before you're of age to even sip on a hard lemonade, fucking tip the bartenders. They could easily slide you a cranberry & vodka like you ordered but juice it up and have you acting like a dumb fool off of sober juice. Don't be stupid and cheap.

Oh, and another thing...I realized that when I go out now that I came back from Australia (more on that next time), getting drunk is a lot different then it used to be. Nowadays, I won't feel drunk until I get home and it finally hits me like an 18-wheeler. Double woof.

The night after the first.

Yeah, the title of this speaks of absolutely no hook up after class whatsoever. Puh! I wish. But i'm talking about one of the many night classes I'm taking this semester.

Last night's night class was frickin' awwwwwwesome! I didn't think Interactive Advertising would sound so cool. It's making me enjoy my major even more despite the doubts I have about getting a job in the industry after college (although I'm sure there will be some open position in on campus for the PR department...Christ). I wasn't sure about who would be teaching the class since our schedule wasn't finalized until right before classes start. Don't you just love when your schedule says "Staff" as the professor of a course? It reminds me of that Stride Mystery Gum. You have a feeling it's one flavor/professor but it also could be some different flavor/professor. It's literally a mystery until right before the class...then BOOM! you know what professor it is. Sadly, you can't really say the same revelation happens with Stride Mystery Gum.

Anywho, the adjunct, who never taught a class before, seems really cool thus far. She's a laid successful chick with her own company and she seems to have all these awesome perks that go along with her job. One perk in particular involved one of those Black American Express cards...made of fucking TITANIUM! Like really? You could kill someone with this fucking thing that has no spending limit. Woof. She passed it around like a goddamn pet rabbit that the whole class could pet and love. But this rabbit could no longer be used because she cancelled the account. Still, it was pretty awesome to see this thinger and to know that credit cards made of titanium exist.

But tonight's night class I thought would be cool - because my friends who took this class in the past said: it was an easy A and the professor was cool. I knew some acquaintances in the class and a shit ton of athletes were in there as well...athletes are one of the groups on campus who can register for classes early...I guess i can consider that a perk for myself :) The class was Exercise Science and it was a required science course for all students to take. It was part of the curriculum for STL classes: Science, Technology, & Literacy...it's basically science for kids who don't like science. And many of us athletes like to be as stress-free as possible so we opt for STL (or what I like to call ST(H)ell).

As more athletes come rolling through the class, I see my old roommate...who I don't necessarily like to smile to when I see her. In fact, I don't smile at her whenever I do see her. I don't even wanna fucking see her! Woof. Of course, we kinda make that slight acknowledgment of each other and I'm pretty sure I heard her Beowulf-like stature mumble something under her breath but who knows...maybe she was just growling or something.

I'm not one to shit on people on public forums and use their real names so I'll call this person...Chalk. I think it's safe to say that Chalk and I have this mutual distaste for each other that has stemmed since freshmen year. We kinda didn't see each other after that and if we did, we ignored each other. I didn't have a class with her since freshmen year and didn't see much of her unless it was at a pep rally or once in a blue moon on campus which was rare. So, with the gods being so generous to me, they sent me the gift of reuniting with this beast my final year of college. Awesome. A new cell phone or laptop would've been better considering that both things were falling apart. My life is awesome. Psh.

The day after the first

Thus far, senior year is going by swimmingly. Then again, the first week of classes is easy as pie, considering the only "assignments" we're getting is soaking in the policies and ground rules for each class syllabus we receive from professors. Yes, I know the policy on attendance and that there are no makeup exams and that punctuality is key to being successful in this or that industry. I know where to find the ISBN code to over-priced text books and to not buy them from the campus bookstore who charges well-over the retail price...S my D! I'm sure I won't even open those books more than five times or until midterms and finals start. Woof.

I'm starting to look at class more laid-back(ly) as compared to previous years (especially when I was a froshpie scaredy cat) where I would show up with all the necessary books, notebooks, a folder, 12-inch ruler, a calculator, post-it notes, an assignment book, my schedule, a highlighter, 3 pens, and a couple of lead pencils (0.7 mm #2 lead). Nowadays, I show up with a leather messenger bag with the following essentials: a notebook, a pencil, a pen, chapstick, a magazine (for those boring lecture), my cell phone (to text people during boring lectures and where to meet up for noms aka foodie), my ipod (so I can avoid speaking to anyone on my way to class), and a bottle of water. Gum too. The minty kind. Oh, and my schedule of course. I'm a senior now and it would be really dumb if I still didn't know where McSpedon was or how to get to the ground floor of Murphy (there's a different way you have to go, you know).

I must remind myself that this is only the first week of classes. I'm sure I'll be bringing more than just the items mentioned above. My schedule this fall is...different. I have one class on Mondays (in the morning). Two classes on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday (one in the morning and one at night...leaving me with a large gap in between being used for working on campus and going to crew practices before my night class). And no classes on Fridays (sa-weeeeeeet!). To me, it seems like a pretty do-able schedule but as stated before, the first week is the easiest week. I need to get into a sort of routine that also involves a designated time to de-stress and get some ever-flowing endorphines running through my brain via a run on the treadmill or sweating all over an eliptical...God, I'm messy. And mind you, I hate rushing. I need to give myself ample leverage time in between my daily doings or else I'll get flustered like a hungry penguin waddling around for food and smacking people with my wings. Come to think of it, I already do that.

The Senior Sulk.

Of course after going to college for 3 years and doing what college kids do (i.e. joining clubs, making friends, binge drinking, discovering who you are, figuring out what you want to do or not do afterwards, stressing about not finding a job, more binge drinking etc.), I finally realize, "Shit. It's my last year of college. ever." Like holy crap after this year, I can't consider myself part of that collegiate crowd that goes to classes, hangs out on campus, has meetings to rush to, and a free gym to work out in. After this year, I have to start paying off student loans, finding a job to pay them off, pay back my parents for anything I owed them while I was a student, get a GMail account (because your school e-mail account expires once you graduate...boo), buy "corporate clothes", and worst of all...GROW UP.

I remember hearing that term all the time when I was young(er) and ignorant to the worries life throws at us. But I never really thought time would go by faster than coffee through my digestive system. It sucks to grow up. And worry...about...everythinggggg. Woof.

So this final year, the capstone to my college experience has to be, as most college seniors put it, "Fucking epic beyond belief...the greatest year of our lives." Like really? I'm not a football star that does keg stands. Shut the fuck up.

But it all seriousness, I do hope that my senior year will a memorable one and I'm sure it will. Minus the nights I plan to not remember my name or what I ate in a drunken slumber (Hey, you can't say you've gone to college and didn't get drunk at least once, right?).

As my Interactive Advertising professor put it, "It's gonna be a good time, not a long one," so in order for me to say I did have an "epic" senior year, I might as well take advantage of the opportunities that come my way. And hopefully avoid heaps of drama because who wants to deal with catty bitch fights that remind us of high school. Not me, son.