How I met the Green Hornet

•September 23, 2008 • 2 Comments

Greg Thompson was quite the character. I met him in Spanish class my freshman year. I hadn’t signed with the house yet so he was just some crazy guy on acid in Spanish when we met.  A real tall scrappy looking guy with curly hair always tucked under a hat.

So we all had to pick out Spanish names, Marci became “Mercedes”, I became “Jaime” and so on. And so it becomes Greg’s turn to pick out a name. The bitch teacher, and I call her a bitch because she failed me, calls on Greg. 

“Gomez!” Greg yells in a squeaking high pitched tripping on acid voice. And he tripped acid during class at least four times a week, usually during class. 

“That’s a last name, Greg” the teacher says. 

“I want to be Gomez! I want to be Gomez!” Greg howls, he is almost livid that he can’t have his way. Teacher looking somewhat frightened gives in and lets him be known as Gomez. 

So I show up at the house that afternoon, still rushing the house, and I see Gomez coming down the stairs. “Jaime, Jaime!!!” he yells. 

So turns out Gomez is a brother in the house and wants to party with me…right now. We get in his car, a 1989 green mustang, with the license plate GRN HNT, as in Green Hornet. 

So we start driving down providence, smoking a bowl at about 90 miles an hour. It’s a 30 MPH street. I am holding the “Oh Shit” handle and he starts yelling, “Calm down smoothy! Its all good!” He starts calling me nicknames like Smoothy, Skillet, and other nonsense. Who the fuck is this guy?

We end up at some bar where we are the only white guys. He walks into the joint like he owns the place and starts dancing like Michael Jackson in the middle of the bar. There is no dance floor, per se, but he is tearing it up. At first, all of the brothers start looking at him, and then at me, like “we are going to kick the shit out of this guy, and you’re next.” Fuck, who is this guy?

So I go out to the dancefloor and try to get him the hell out of there and he stiff arms me. I am disrupting his rhythm and he is in a trance. “Step off Smoothie!” he yells laughing the whole time. I got middle age blue collar black dudes standing behind me muttering stuff like “Crazy white boy mother fucker.” I’m about to piss myself. I start moving to the door figuring its Gomez’s funeral. Two guys grab me, one of them says, “Where you going, white boy, you just got here.” So now I’m fucked. I am going to get my ass kick and probably have to fight for some guy I just met and don’t really know. 

The comments from the crowd moving in slowly start to change. Women are taking notice of his dancing and yelling, “Damn, that boy move good for a cracker.” I swear it was something out of a bad movie. So these black chicks start moving towards Gomez, about four of them, all grinding on him. Gomez is digging it, calling me to join him, I refrain. 

I ended up sitting at this table with these four older black dudes for about four hours. Doing shots of something that tasted like gasoline and throwing up twice in the bathroom, yet still going back for more.

At about 1 in the morning, and granted I got to this place at about 4 p.m, I stumbled outside and passed out on the parking lot pavement. I woke up a few hours later to find the bar was closed, the Green Hornet and his Mustang were gone and I would be walking home. 

As you know, I ended up signing with the house. And the Green Hornet went home with a few gals from the bar. Allegedly.

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Fraternity and Sorority Nicknames

•September 8, 2008 • 4 Comments

Sigma Nu – Sigma Newer

Phi Delt – Fry Delt

Alpha Omega Pi – A Oh Piggy Pie, Animals on Parade

Zeta Tau Alpha – Zits tits and Armpits

Kappa Kappa Gamma – Catch a case of gonorrhea

Kappa Delta – Kum Dumpsters, Keg Drainers

Sigma Chi – Sig Machi, Machis

Beta Theta Pie – Baked Potato Pie

Delta Chi – Felta Guy

Sigma Kappa – Sigma Cattle

Kappa Sigma – Kappa Scwhag

Alpha Chi Omega – Almost Chi Oh

Alpha Delta Pi – Another Dirty Pussy, After Dinner Pie

Pi Kappa Phi – Guy Phis

Delta Gamma – Dick Gobbler

Kappa Alpha Theta – Dikes with Kites

Delta Upsilon – Delta Oops I signed. 

Pi Kappe Alpha – Pi Kappa Anyone

Sigma Phi Epsilon – Sigma Phi Hair Salon

Alpha Tao Omega – You can’t spell faggot without ATO

Sigma Alpha Epsilon – Scooters and Egos, Same Assholes Everywhere

Alphi Phi – Alpha Flea

Alpha Epsilon Pi – Apes

Lamda Chi Alpha – Lamb Chops

Alpha Gamma Rho – Ag Dogs

List of funny nicknames…

•September 7, 2008 • 1 Comment

Please add to the list:

 

Crime Dog

Wolpers

Granola Troll

Half-breed Mongrel

Tree Troll

Dildo with ears

Timmie Toupee

Action Jackson

The V-Man

Budman

Smooth

Eazy-E

Heather Hot Fingers

Schwagie Maggie

The Green Hornet

Curly

Grateful Ed

Boomer

Crackdonald

The Filipino Scwoogie

The Prick

Motherfucker

Paper Boy

Zits Tits and Armpits

A Oh Piggy Pie

House Cat

Wink

Starchwigsen

Choo Choo Roger

Squirrel 

Killer

Zit Pig

Mash Clown

The Crime Mobile

•September 5, 2008 • Leave a Comment

Crimedog, aka, McGruff from previous posts had a late 80’s Chevy Suburban. The thing was a tank and could carry 10 people quite comfortably. We were quite blessed one evening for a number of reasons. One, we had some great mushrooms, two, we were in the Crime mobile and three, the yard at the house was huge. 

We had just come back from a local tavern and were pulling into the parking lot when Crime Dog decided he wanted to jump the Crime Mobile. The Crimedog put the truck in neutral and revved the gas, then put it into drive. By the time we hit the sand volley ball court we were going about 50 mph with sand flying everywhere, all of us laughing, and heading toward the basketball court. 

Now just south of the basketball court was a hill. This hill was about 15 feet tall and had an incline of about 75 degrees. Crimedog floored it and up the hill we went. At the top of the hill we caught air, guessing about four-five feet or so, maybe more, I don’t know, we were tripping. Felt like the Dukes of Hazzard but even more redneck and with drugs. 

I am in mid-air with the other idiots in the Crime Mobile, in complete bliss and laughter when Grateful Ed spills his beer all over me. As the car comes crashing down we go bouncing all over the place as Crime Dog tries to steady the truck on the ground and Grateful Ed’s beer soaks me head to toe. Now this wasn’t some plastic cup from a keg party, this was a stein of beer that Grateful Ed had taken with him from the tavern – stolen is a better word. 

So I start flipping out. “Fucking Grateful Ed, I am tripping balls and you are spilling beer all over the place!” The Crime mobile came to an abrupt stop and everyone just starts laughing at me and the moment. Brothers from the house start coming outside to see what they hell just tore up the yard. Classic.

The Lowe Blow

•September 3, 2008 • Leave a Comment

Country boy meets prep meets roid rage.  That sums up Lowe.  Whenever he entered the room you always took a serious punch to the arm or the leg.  He threw stunners.  He was always talking about his private parts, referring to his penis as “The Donkey”.  He was actually a fun guy to hang out with, but only in small doses. 

One day Lowe decided to play bartender and make a group of guys a round of drinks.  I don’t know what was in the drink but I heard it was damn good.  He said that he invented it.  He called it the “Lowe Blow”.  When asked what was in it he said, “50% Vodka, 25% Rum, 10% Fruit punch, 25% Ice….”
Dave, one of the guys witnessing this exhibition of math, said, “But Lowe, that all is more than 100%.”

 

To this Lowe responds, “because the ice melts you dumbfuck.”
Classic

How did this guy get a bid

•August 27, 2008 • Leave a Comment

So during one rush week, me and Glass were paired up to meet with guys making the rounds through rush. There were like eight sessions during the day, usually for like an hour each. After about four of these hours you are pretty much spent. This went on for three days. If you made it to the third day, you got a bid. 

So Glass and I are going through rush week, writing down names of guys we like, guys we don’t. We meet this one guy who shows up in a Quite Riot T-shirt with short-shorts – black if I recall. This guy was a hill-billy, not a “face-guy” and wasn’t a fit. Nice enough guy, just seemed a little too death metal for our house. So the end of the day comes and the rush chair is reading off names. Everyone is “yes, no, hell-no!” and so on. 

Glass looks at me and ask “What was the name of that death metal guy?” I raised my shoulders. No idea. Glass and I agree that if he shows up on day two we’ll cut him. 

Day two arrives and Glass and I are back at it. Talking to some of the guys we met the day before, mingling, bullshitting, etc. So after about five groups, Glass and I decide to take a session off. We go into the side yard and smoke a joint. Come back in the house and play twisted metal in his locked room until the session is over. Session seven starts up and we are back in play. 

Rush chair goes through the lineup, “yes, no, hell-no” and Glass and I contribute. 

So on the third day in walks Death Metal Guy. Glass is like, “Fuck.” The rush chair is all over us, asking how this guy got through. We plead the 5th. So this guy signs the house. 

All in all, he ended up being a likable guy and a good brother. It is kind of funny though, how different his college experience might have been if we hadn’t gotten stoned on the second day of rush!

The House Phone

•August 27, 2008 • Leave a Comment

As pledges it was your duty to answer the house phone within 3 rings.  Initiated brothers never stooped low enough to answer it. 

So, we regularly tested our pledges for compliance to the 3 ring rule.  My room was on the lower level at the end of a long hall.  The house phone was on the other end of the hall, and up a flight of stairs.  I’d call the house phone from my room.  A pledge would answer.   I’d say in a disquised voice, “I need to talk to Stan Gable immediately!”  The pledge would typically ask, “May I ask whose calling?”.   Answer, “Hell no!  Get off your ass and get Gable for me now!”

Walk down the stairs, run down the hall, knock on my door. 

Me, hiding the phone receiver behind my back, “What the hell do you want?”

Pledge, “Stan, there’s a phone call for you on the house phone.”

Me, “Well who the hell is it?”

Pledge, “They wouldn’t say.”

Me, “Well go find out.”

Run down the hall, up the steps, ask, “Gable needs to know who it is?”

“Goddamit, go get him. It’s an emergency.”

Pledge, “He really needs to know who it is.”

“I don’t have time for this shit, it’s life or death.  Go get him now!”

Run down the stairs, down the hall, knock on my door.

Me, “What?”

Pledge, “They wouldn’t give me a name.  They said it was a life or death emergency.”

Me, “Did they tell you what the emergency was?”

Pledge, ‘No, they just said they needed to talk to you immediately and that it was very urgent.”

Me, “Go find out what the emergency is.”

Run down the hall, up the steps, “Gable needs to know what the emergency is.”

“GO GET THAT MF’ER ON THE PHONE RIGHT F’ING NOW YOU IDIOT!”

Pledge, “But he needs the details…”
“I DONT GIVE A DAMN WHAT HE NEEDS.  I Don’t think you understand the severity of the situaiton.  Go to his room and get him on this f’ing phone.”

Run down the stairs, down the hall, knock on my door……..

 

This loop carried on a number of times until everyone in my room couldn’t contain their laughter. 
Stupid pledges.