Wal-Mart, creating ugly people since 1960

In 1960 the first Wal-Mart was built and owned by a Mr. Sam Walton and thus created a meeting spot for generations of ugly people for years to come. I don't get it. Why do the ugliest trashiest people flock to Wal-Mart in the thousands? On a recent trip, in a search for noodles, I walked down an aisle, turned the corner and was shocked. Coming straight for me was what I assumed is a faithful Wal-Mart customer. She was elderly, was over weight to say the least and wore a shirt which only concealed half of her stomach, leaving all to see her veiny, fat rolls, flowing out like cookie dough with lines of blueberry filling. I don't mean to be rude, but for the rest of the day I will have that image burned into my brain. I don't see these ugly people walking the streets everyday? Where are they? Why are they so wretched? Why do they wear concealing clothing to show their less finer points? After much thought, I figured it out.

NASCAR

No where in the world (besides at a NASCAR race) can you find so much racing apparel. I figure, after hours of watching cars go round a track every weekend it starts to morph your body. First your face wears from watching car wrecks and cars going in the same direction for hours. Then the fumes from the cars, leak out of the TV and create an invisible poison in these people's homes. The poison disfigures their body and due to a secret deal between Wal-Mart and NASCAR turns them into faithful Wal-Mart customers. End of story. Or maybe ugly people are just drawn to the giant yellow happy face which is the Wal-Mart logo. Maybe......MAYBE.......

When you call your dog enchilada and she runs to you as if you were calling her by her given name Chrissy, you should be worried for her failing IQ

You know your dog is fat when you realize she is lazy and never moves, so you bring her on a walk but she can't handle it and vomits all over the trail.

You know Christmas has lost its original meaning (birth of Christ just in case you didn't know) when your Jewish family is spending Christmas dinner at the Muslims house down the road.

Merry X-mas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and any holidays you might have made up. Remember to feed your pet gerbils over break and have a great New Year:)

-Lemiwinks, the class gerbil

Don't eat the yellow snow

So on Friday night it decided to snow, and snow, and snow some more. Then on Saturday it decided it would just keep on snowing, and well by Sunday morning the snow had finally gone away. I was never sure what to expect of a snow storm at college. I thought maybe everyone would just sit and watch movies, and eat soup, and go to bed early. WRONG

Friday Night, a night to be remembered
It is snowy out, it is cold, and there is a slight wind-chill to make you wish you were inside. So me and my entire floor decided it would be a great time to have a snow ball fight. I threw on my winter sandals, my friend Shannon from downstairs put on her winter bikini, and 30 of us walked out side. Snowballs were thrown, people smiled, and lessons were learned. Here is what I learned from my college snowball fight:

-after awhile, the power of your winter sandals start to fail, and you can;t feel your feet anymore

-after awhile, the fact that you are not wearing gloves and throwing snowballs makes it so you can't feel your hands

-the snow off of Quinnipiac golf carts makes really good snow balls

-however when University employees get in the cart and you throw snowballs at it, it is not a great idea

-When someone pulls down your roommates pants and underwear, you will be attacked by 20 people, with two snowballs each (thats 40 snowballs per pantsing)

-When you leave your window open during a snow storm, people will try to throw snowballs in your room, and many will be successful

-it is really funny when you're roommate throws a snowball at a friend, and he ducks and the snowball hits a girl right in the forehead

So after the snowball fight I came inside for hot cocoa and of course A RAP OFF
For some reason it was decided that on this night at hours past one in the morning, there would be a great rap battle, between two of the whitest, most country ganstaz in Litchfield County, me and Jay, with Mr. Litchfield Dan Tracy throwing down the beats. I don't know why we decided this would be a good idea, but a crowd gathered, and the stage was set. Lessons were learned from this event as well:

-Yo Yo Yo My name is Ben..........is not really a good way to start off every rhyme, but hey, I wanted people to know who I was

-When you're in a rap battle it is smart to rap about your opponent, so lines like "here she is her name is Teddy, going steady with a Yeti" doesn't really win you game points

-If the beat masta is your best friend, and for fun you are seen throwing down beats with him as you walk down the hall, that is always a help(Damn you Jay and Dan)

So, after a slow start, I actually picked up my rapping in round three and there was actually a glimmer of hope of me winning. All that I needed was Jay to have a poor final round. Let the rapping begin.........
Jay starts out, with a few average rhymes, and rhymes that don't actually rhyme, I def have the advantage. I think this is in the books, Jay just doesn't have the juice to win it, he is more gangsta looking, has the best friend beat box, had a good start, but I'm gonna do it.......I'm Gonna win this thing!......................Then Jay came out with an ending I never saw coming.
"Ben Ben Ben you little queer" Where could he go with this line? He can't possibly think of a great line to win it, oops, my foot slips, I stumble a little, my drink slowly sloshes forward and backwards, and slightly spills over the edge of my glass. "LOOK OUT OUT SON DON'T SPILL YOUR BEER"............................THE CROWD ERUPTS, JAY THROWS HIS HANDS IN MY FACE. The battle is lost. My Friday night ends in rap off of shame, I wasn't even drinking beer. But def. a fun night for the history books.