Friday, September 14, 2007

The Biscuit Story

I had a memory resurface this week that I thought I would share with my beloved blogging community. I went to school at the University of Idaho, and about 8 miles to the west is Washington State University. Yep, that it is. I finally remembered where I went to college.

Just kidding – on with the story.

I am a Delta Chi, and Wazzu had a Delta Chi chapter. During my time at school, the Wazzu D-Chis were not a very strong house. But occasionally, we would visit our brothers across the border because of one paramount factor – girls. Washington State has about 15,000 more students than Idaho, and that means a lot more boobies. You could say it was a target rich environment. So as young, impressionable freshmen, me and some brothers headed over. Six of us crammed into a 1992 Ford Bronco with visions of entering a land where goddess-like (and of course scantily-clad) women walked up to you with a beer in one hand, a condom in the other, and room key in their mouth. Yes, me and my friends were indeed young, dumb, and full of spermatozoon.

Once we arrived at the Wazzu Delta Chi house we realized our mental picture had got beaten and battered unconscious by reality. Evidently besides not a being a strong house, the Wazzu guys are also a safe haven for women who enjoy living life to the fullest if you know what I mean. Sir Mix-A-Lot would have been drooling. Baby got back and I think she ate Becky. We tried to make the best of it, but most of us were ready to go 30 seconds after we walked in to the house. The one problem was our sober driver likes them big, and he was in heaven. He looked as happy as a two-peckered puppy at a poodle parade. So we did what brave men do in tough situations, and drank ourselves retarded.

As the night progressed we discovered that we were out of our own beer, and must stand in line to get some keg beer. Well duty calls, and me and a buddy are in a long line waiting when we notice that we are the only guys in line. We are surrounded by the nightmare on Monroe Street, and these women wanted more than beer. These ladies wanted action and it looked like no was not on the menu today. I am panicking, trying to figure out how I am going to survive. Sure I am a kindhearted, charitable man, but this was beyond my generosity comfort level. I scanned the scene again and there it was … my golden ticket just sitting there on top of the fridge – a box of dog biscuits. Now I would love to know what you are thinking right now. But let me be clear I might have a mean streak but I would never publicly humiliate anyone but myself or someone I was good friends with. With that being said, I grabbed four dog biscuits, gave two to my friend and two to myself, gave him the look, and we both proceeded to eat the dog biscuits. And just like that we were no longer wanted men.

The moral of the story is that a dog biscuit is man’s best friend.

Have a good weekend.

15 comments:

Andraste said...

That image, drinking yourself retarded? I love that. I shall commandeer that expression, and use it ad nauseum, until friends tell me to stop.

YOu get the copyright, though.

Have a great weekend, Mr. Shife. Long time no 'type'!

Phats said...

Ha nice story shife.

How did they taste?

cher said...

Baby got back and I think she ate Becky.

coffee came up to the entrance of my nasal passage.

i thought for sure you were going to say you started handing out the biscuits to the women asking them if they "want a bone?"

the rube said...

don't the girls all get prettier at closing time?

Stephen Parrish said...

I told you privately, and now I'm telling you publicly: you are so fucking funny you need to start charging. From now on, the money you lose by giving your stuff away for free is no longer weighing on my conscience.

Skiingred said...

While I normally find "frat stories" to be, um... dull?... This was was funny!

Woof!

cher said...

if you start charging, i think that would be great. it would really fatten up my child support checks.

The Egg said...

That's a funny frat story. I went to one frat party in my life. I don't think one can be sober at these events. I had enough to dance all night.

Travis Erwin said...

This reminds me of the old adage, "Fat girls need love too."

On a side note. What is the story behind the name Vandals? I've always wnated to know.

Phats said...

because back in the day a group of silly frat guys stole the mascot for Boise State and were called Vandals in the local paper. They then changed the nickname from fighting potatoes to vandals. HA Oh that was bad

Hi shife Vandals didn't look to bad at Wazzu!

cher said...

once upon a time, you used to love us, your fans, enough to throw us a bone back after our comments now and then.... :(

john said...

That ended much better than I thought it was going to. I was thinking something like eating biscuits out of some chick's belly button.

Travis Erwin said...

Vandals beats the argumentative spuds any day of the week.

Nebraska used to be called the Bugeaters.

Design Goddess said...

Were they at least beef flavored?!

The Phoenix said...

Washington State has an Omega Mu chapter?