| 1. | MRS Degree | |
| noun: pejorative 1. A marriage as a result of attending a 4-year university with the soul purpose of getting married and consequently not completing college. 2. The attending of college, usually a 4-year university of moderate to high prestige, to get married to avoid independence or responsibility. 3. To go from one's parent's home to the home of a spouse with out ever achieving emotional or financial independence, or academic success. Example: "Betsy got her MRS degree from State. "I am majoring in my MRS Degree." Suzie's MRS Degree ended in divorce. This indepth look into the world of marrying for money will be not only profound but shitty, knowing my intellectual capabilities. I got started on this subject when I met a girl in Tennessee who, on our first and only date, began to ask me all sorts of "non-first date" questions. E.g. "how many kids do you want?" "what kind of house do you want to live in?" "would you prefer her to stay at home and raise the kids or work?" My man-senses began buzzing and I called my friend who attends Vanderbilt University and he informed me that she was pursuing her MRS. Degree. To which I replied, "What the fuck is that?" He, then, broke it down for me and I proceeded to inform the girl that I was here on vacation and the chances of her landing me as a potential suitor were nil and not. This abruptly ended our evening and led to a night of meaningless sex, since I was never gonna see her again, fucking me wouldn't ruin her chances for the MRS. Degree. I then became enamored with the subject and decided that it would make for a fun sociological study. Upon mentioning the degree to my California professor, she stared at me like I had invented a new degree called Ultimate Reality and wanted to study this newly invented phenomena. After a simple explanation of the degree, she said she would be interested to read it. This is the basis for my blog. I found a girl on this website who was actively pursuing her MRS. Degree and took extensive notes and examples in addition to following other individuals who did, or did not, wish to obtain the degree. 564321321654 hours of blog reading and like 2 hours of library research on the subject (which yeilded no fucking results) I began to form my project. So, here I sit, 3 days away from its due date and I am yet again procrastinating. So, I must be off, until next time....... | ||
Friday, March 13, 2009
Josh vs Historical Sociology
So, Historical Sociology and I are at war. I have a mother-fucker of a project due and am placing the final touches on it. This has been a 3 month endeavor with countless nights of not doing anything but drinking and not doing work for it. Though, through last minute efforts and nights of no sleep, I am nearing the end of this project. I, Josh Webb, will provide the first (that I know of) look into the world of the MRS. Degree. Yes, that's right. The MRS. Degree. Urban Dictionary defines this degree as:
Josh vs The Dollhouse
Okay, so a couple nights ago my best friend Zill and I got drunk at his record store downtown. My friend Diana was at the bar around the corner from his shop and decided to come hang out with us as well. We proceeded to get so unbelievably fucked up that we found ourselves crawling through a hole the size of an overhead projector to see what was in the basement underneath the shop. After playing archeaologist in the damn basement for 2 and a half hours, (yes, we were drinking even more down there during that time), we decided it was time to resume our normal professional lives (as drunks) and climbed out of the basement.
I was blitzed and gave Zill the keys to my roommates car and informed him that he was to drive (preferably to the nearest mini-mart to get more beer) and we left downtown, accomplishing my goal of more beer along the way. After driving around for a while drinking road sodas, Zill came up with an idea to go check out these new model homes which they were constructing not too far away. We parked the car and began to explore each individual home (yes, we're still consuming beer), and then we came upon a home with a lifesized dollhouse in the backyard. Of course, like any group of men who have been drinking all night, we decided we wanted to destroy it for the sake of posterity.
Zill climbs on top of it and proceeds to hit it with a skateboard while I come up with the awesome idea of giving the window some sweet chin music. I go over to the sliding glass door by the actual house and prepare my assault on this dollhouse window. I take my running start and bring up my leg to deliver a deathblow to this window. As my foot connects with the windown, I hear an excruciating pop in my knee and I proceed to fall to the ground howling like a pussy as I come crashing down. 15 minutes of pain and un-manly tears later, I crack open another beer and grab a metal chair determined to take out the window that just took me out.
Once again I get my running start, although this one was more of a hobble as my knee was shot, and I feebly swing the chair at the window. Nothing happens! I again take a more manly swing at this window and yet still, no effect. It is at this point that I decide I'm going to try to thrust the chair through the window rather than swing at it. After several powerful thrusts, the metal chair, yes, the metal chair, falls completely apart in my hands. Dollhouse Window 2 - Josh 0
After further inspection we discover that the dollhouse is completely solid and that a cannonball would have bounced off that motherfucker. We decide at this point that drunk destruction has been a complete failure, our manlieness has been stripped, and the best thing we can do is to go back to the swingset in one of the other houses and do something more befitting of our intellectual capabilities at that particular moment. We get over to the house with the swingset and proceed to drink while swinging when all of a sudden a parade of flashlights invades our party. Attatched to the end of those flashlights are the local PD. They proceed to ask us what the hell we are doing (not knowing about the vandalism) and we tell them that we were just being stupid drunks. They cuff Zill because he was being a dumbass and made Diana destroy her pot. But luckily they tell Diana and I that we need to call someone to pick us up. Diana calls her brother, who comes and gets her. I on the otherhand had the misfortune of the officer calling my roommate at 3am telling her she has to come and get me. Mind you, I have her car. After 20 minutes of waiting (and rooting around through my iPhone) the officer decides to call my roommate again to check on her progress, she tells her that she's almost there and that the only person she could get to give her a ride was her mother. Oh, she was gonna fuck me up. Luckily, after spewing venom for two minutes she listened to the entire story, called me a dumbass and said not to do that again without at least telling her.
As for Zill, the cops claimed he was going to jail for being uncooperative. The charges: "Drunk In Public" and "Trespassing On Private Property." Fortunately for Zill the young cops, who were probably fresh out of the academy, heard about an armed robbery in progress while we were waiting for our rides and decided that would be more exciting than explaining to their peers why the best they could do was detaining three 26 year old drunks and arresting only one. So, they dropped him off at home.
My question is this, how could we be drunk in public if we were on private property? Doesn't one negate the other? It would seem you would either have to be "Illegally Drunk On Private Property" or simply "Drunk In Public." No matter, the moral of the story is this...if you're going to get so fucked up that you want to destroy things, don't take on a dollhouse, they are vicious little fuckers that will eat your soul and claim your limbs the first chance that they get.
I was blitzed and gave Zill the keys to my roommates car and informed him that he was to drive (preferably to the nearest mini-mart to get more beer) and we left downtown, accomplishing my goal of more beer along the way. After driving around for a while drinking road sodas, Zill came up with an idea to go check out these new model homes which they were constructing not too far away. We parked the car and began to explore each individual home (yes, we're still consuming beer), and then we came upon a home with a lifesized dollhouse in the backyard. Of course, like any group of men who have been drinking all night, we decided we wanted to destroy it for the sake of posterity.
Zill climbs on top of it and proceeds to hit it with a skateboard while I come up with the awesome idea of giving the window some sweet chin music. I go over to the sliding glass door by the actual house and prepare my assault on this dollhouse window. I take my running start and bring up my leg to deliver a deathblow to this window. As my foot connects with the windown, I hear an excruciating pop in my knee and I proceed to fall to the ground howling like a pussy as I come crashing down. 15 minutes of pain and un-manly tears later, I crack open another beer and grab a metal chair determined to take out the window that just took me out.
Once again I get my running start, although this one was more of a hobble as my knee was shot, and I feebly swing the chair at the window. Nothing happens! I again take a more manly swing at this window and yet still, no effect. It is at this point that I decide I'm going to try to thrust the chair through the window rather than swing at it. After several powerful thrusts, the metal chair, yes, the metal chair, falls completely apart in my hands. Dollhouse Window 2 - Josh 0
After further inspection we discover that the dollhouse is completely solid and that a cannonball would have bounced off that motherfucker. We decide at this point that drunk destruction has been a complete failure, our manlieness has been stripped, and the best thing we can do is to go back to the swingset in one of the other houses and do something more befitting of our intellectual capabilities at that particular moment. We get over to the house with the swingset and proceed to drink while swinging when all of a sudden a parade of flashlights invades our party. Attatched to the end of those flashlights are the local PD. They proceed to ask us what the hell we are doing (not knowing about the vandalism) and we tell them that we were just being stupid drunks. They cuff Zill because he was being a dumbass and made Diana destroy her pot. But luckily they tell Diana and I that we need to call someone to pick us up. Diana calls her brother, who comes and gets her. I on the otherhand had the misfortune of the officer calling my roommate at 3am telling her she has to come and get me. Mind you, I have her car. After 20 minutes of waiting (and rooting around through my iPhone) the officer decides to call my roommate again to check on her progress, she tells her that she's almost there and that the only person she could get to give her a ride was her mother. Oh, she was gonna fuck me up. Luckily, after spewing venom for two minutes she listened to the entire story, called me a dumbass and said not to do that again without at least telling her.
As for Zill, the cops claimed he was going to jail for being uncooperative. The charges: "Drunk In Public" and "Trespassing On Private Property." Fortunately for Zill the young cops, who were probably fresh out of the academy, heard about an armed robbery in progress while we were waiting for our rides and decided that would be more exciting than explaining to their peers why the best they could do was detaining three 26 year old drunks and arresting only one. So, they dropped him off at home.
My question is this, how could we be drunk in public if we were on private property? Doesn't one negate the other? It would seem you would either have to be "Illegally Drunk On Private Property" or simply "Drunk In Public." No matter, the moral of the story is this...if you're going to get so fucked up that you want to destroy things, don't take on a dollhouse, they are vicious little fuckers that will eat your soul and claim your limbs the first chance that they get.
Josh vs the blog
So, here we are embarking on a new era...blogging. I've myspaced, facebooked, chatted, AIM'ed, twittered, tweeted, loopt'ed, texted, deadjournal'ed,and called, but I've never blogged. So, I am going to attempt this thing and hopefully I succeed at it. I will keep this first one short as I am attempting to finish my historical sociology paper and then must go drink with my newly single friend, young nicholas. I think I am going to dedicate this blog to my failures with women. This is by no means a pity party, if anything, I feel that this blog could turn into a best seller on how to drive people away. Often times the stories are sad, other times, though, they are downright hilarious. So, in keeping with the spirit of objectivity, I will leave no detail out, and no stone left unturned. After all, if we can't be honest with ourselves, how do we intend to be honest with another individual. I'm sure I will be blogging stories from the past as my life continues to unfold, but for now, let us begin with a clean slate and enjoy this particular adventure together.
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