WATCH YOUR STEP …

WATCH YOUR STEP

From Jiggle: All right. Net: OK. We were reading the paper the other day, and we saw some WOMAN (didn’t want to say chick and offend any of the feminist chicks) Net: Condescension is much less offensive writing about the bad condition of Centennial Hall. We had never written in but we decided to relay our situation to you kids. About a month and a half ago, our friend, who we will call Gaylord to protect his identity, Net: Unless he’s gay and really powerful was going into the bathroom to take a midnight shower. He opened the shower curtain to step in and saw, to his dismay, a pile of steaming smelly s##!t. Now, this was no normal s##!t, this was five cans of chili s##!t. Net: Hormel or homemade? There is a difference. Of course, Gaylord came running to our doors to tell us of his s##!tty encounter. We did our good neighborly duty and went to the front desk to get some underpaid lackey to clean it for us. Anyway, some guy came and cleaned it and then LOCKED THE BATHROOM DOOR. Now, we thought this was only going to be for the night while it defunkified, but that was not the case. THEY LEFT OUR BATHROOM DOOR LOCKED FOR TWO WEEKS TO PUNISH US. Net: Our advice: Do your business on the floor outside the door. Then they’ll shut down the entire dorm and set you up at the Days Inn. And that, friends, is livin’. Now, why are they punishing us??!?! We did not take the s##!t, nor did we pay the person who took the s##!t to take it. Net: What’s the going rate for a parking a Winnebago in a shower stall these days? We had nothing to do with the s##!t, so why were we made to walk down a flight of stairs to take our own respective s##!ts in the proper place? Net: Because the powers that be are considerate, that’s why. Wait … did we just say that? In any case, that is why we hate Centennial Hall. They went too far with that one. And to the person who took the s##!t in our shower, we kneel before our beds every night and pray to the Lord that you will be hit by a bus next time you walk across the street. Net: If God truly replied to death requests, would the Backstreet Boys still exist? However, we don’t want you to die. We want you to be paralyzed from the neck down so that we can make fun of you working your wheelchair with a straw connected to your mouth and pissing in a plastic bag. No more s##!tting in showers for you … bastard. P.S. Seejay said to say hi to Rollerdiva for him because he likes sluts Net: Which, we believe, is No. 2 on Rollas “Gottahaveit” list, behind, well … never mind.

JUNIOR

From Monkeyf&@k: Dear Network, up until now, I thought I belonged to the most discriminated-against group on campus: Net: MSA? Oh … we thought you said “disconnected” a frat-boy freshperson. I had adjusted to living in the shadows, drinking, hitting on chicks and defending my Big Dick championship in Wrestlemania 2000. But now a horrible truth has been revealed about me on Network; one that will cause more discrimination and shatter my fragile existence at the University. Net: Ladies and gentlemen, we present the T-Room Tyrant, previously seen tapping his foot in a stall near you. I … (sigh) I am PeeWee‘s little brother. Now that I, the Monkeyf&@k, have admitted the truth, I have something to say to all the ladies on campus to help protect my social life. As a freshperson, I might be immature. I don’t know how to register or check my University e-mail. Net: Find a tutor to do it for you. I can’t open the goddamn key-card lock at Sanford Hall. Net: You’re not pulling hard enough. As a frat boy, I drink constantly. Net: That’s a good start. Buck up, little cowboy. I have six forms of VD — which I help circulate as much as possible. And, yes, I have the same blood in my veins as PeeWee. Net: Which explains the VD, wethinks. But look beyond that, ladies. I’m neat, I’m clean, I shower, Net: Hmmm … where have you been showering? And have you been eating chili recently? I don’t mind the smell. And although you don’t admit it in public, all girls need a little Monkey love now and again.

REGULARITY IS RELATIVE

From Shasta “Now With Chocolate, Salty Balls” McNasty: Net: Put ’em in yo mouth and suckem! Hello to my materialistic Net. The other day, when you made a plea for your “regulars” to write in (because they are the ones who pay the bills, I suppose), I was one hurting little bitch when I wasn’t referred to as a “regular.” Net: All apologies, and certainly no offense intended. That’s the risk we took. But considering our vat floweth over with entries, we ain’t complaining. Well, for your information, regular is a kind of coffee, or what happens to a person when they eat to much frosted shredded wheat — like me. OK, now with that said, has anyone noticed Dr. Date lately? Net: As little as possible. You hear that, sucka!? We see your smug look down there … are you mocking us? S##!!!!!!!!t. Probably not, so I will fill you in. Wednesday’s topic was about a moron who gets stiffies every time he rides the Campus Connector, Net: Do nipples count? and Tuesday’s was about another guy who can’t shoot his “population porridge” like he used to because he squeezed his s##!t too hard! What the f&@k!?! That is the funniest s##!t I ever did hear. I wonder what group of frat boys circle-jerkin’ around a computer came up with that one. Net: You only need one hand to operate a mouse, and we can all be grateful for that. Well, whoever it is, keep it up, because I think the old skool Dr. Date who was interesting yet funny is back. Net: His wife must be outta town. I think I am going to write in asking him “what is a boner, because I think I have one” Peace.

Net: A fine weekend we bid to you all. Yet soon a new week will be upon us once more, when we will again implore you to regale us with your myriad weekend revelries.