Mac O Shit

I know I speak as if 501 is all that is deplorable and wrong in this world, sprinkled amongst the heresy and chaos are moments that almost make living here tolerable. Case and point our out of control Halloween party. If only I took as much pride in my school work as i did the 501 basement I would probably graduate a 4.0 scholar. Just to give you an idea of how down right fuckin' awesome this party was I am going to describe in great detail the magnitude of this event. It's the Saturday before Halloween and not a ounce of energy has been expelled concerning the possible 5th straight mac cross country title. In case I haven't made this clear, the MAC (Mid American Conference) title is a huge fucking deal for us runners at EMU. It's always been a bit of a cake walk in the years prior just because of the absurd amount of talent that our team harnesses. But this year was different on account that most of our top athletes had graduated. The EMU cross country program was left with nothing but 7 dedicated athletes who had only seen moderate success in high school and the defiant urge to win spearheaded by their coach. I say defiant because to all the other schools it looked as though EMU 's glory days were about to an abrupt halt. In other word's EMU wasn't even suppose to be in contention for any title. This was of no concern for my roommates and I, weather we won or came in dead last, there was going to be a party on Halloween and it's was going to be cataclysmic. We began to literally murder our basement. By murder I mean turn every little nook and cranny black. Though the process cutting trash bags one by one was arduous it was merely a ripple in the amount work that was to come. In order to get the basement finished we called upon some if the freshman to do the grunt work. Though only a few showed up it was enough. We worked all through the day and certainly burned the midnight oil, we were to say the least, dedicated. It was hard to tell how the situation was developing because we didn't leave the basement for a week straight. We had a task that needed to get done an a haphazard effort was just simply not acceptable. The freshmen class had no idea what they had coming both good and bad. 300 trash bags and 5 liters of neon paint later the 501 basement was complete. We even had a fog machine for Christ's sake. The best part about the whole operation was that the Graybush had no clue about the alternate use we discovered for her basement. After we sat back and enjoyed the fruits of our labors we rested for what was to be an epic Friday night in a town 260 miles away, Athens Ohio. Since this is where the MAC meet was that's where we followed out team. Hearing that Athens was home to the one of the top Halloween parties in the nation we expected that all those who weren't running to partake in the later night festivities. There was one thing that I forgot to tell you and that is that our team has a bit of a problem with MIP' s otherwise know as minor in possessions. In particular one individual who's identity will be concealed but I will tell you that he's Canadian to help you understand his lack of logic. For this story we'll call him George. It's now Friday night in the middle of Athens and somehow Gerorge ends up in an alley slammin' a beer when out of no where a mounted cop sees Geroge in his ridiculous homoerotic police uniform. Do the typical Canadian 800 runner action he bolts. We now have a Drunk underage George running from a mounted cop through the back streets of Athens Ohio, awesome right? Not really consider that George already racked up his first American MIP in the prior weekend. Two back to back MIP's , two weekends , two states? Is that even possible?

Gray Origin

Like I mentioned earlier, this post will be dedicated to my one true love, Barbra Graybush. This is not her real name, but for reasons concerning libel and slander this is the name that I will give to our decrepit landlord. Long ago, approximately 200 years, in a small village located in the heart of the dense South American Rain forest a Tiger gave birth to what was thought to be the second coming of Christ. Since the tiger had died giving birth the creature the village was curious as to how a such a simple quadruped could have birthed such a human like creature. A Closer examination would reveal a more frighting aspect, immaculate conception. It turns out that the tiger though old and feeble was a virgin. Some rejoiced, some doubted, others feared. At first the infant was welcomed into the village as one of their own, but to the villagers chagrin this gift would turn out to be a curse. Not long after the birth of Graybush strange anomalies started to plague the village. First it was the uncontrollable diarrhea. Not even the the elders could explain the sporadic bowel movements. People were dying left and right of dehydration. Following this was the crop extinction, farmers could no longer yield any food from labors, its as if something were purposely smiting them. With everyone starving and shitting their brains out the future did not look bright for the villagers. The accumulating bodies on the perimeter of the village was too much for some too handle, for these suicide was the only way out. Once the death toll had reached fifty percent some realized that all of these events came almost immediately after the arrival of the infant and something had to be done. A few brave souls offered to take the infant to the nearest shaman to try and get a grasp on the situation and at best a solution. The only problem was that the shaman resided in a cave precariously nestled in the side of a tall mountain. With both their lives and Graybush in hand the two courageous villagers set off help their family, but this time failure was not an option. The trek through the rain forest was not an easy but a necessary duty, for if it were not accomplished with haste imminent death was their only other option. After days of traversing the dense jungle coupled with dwindling supplies their optimism soon grew into frustration which then led to rage. How could could they save their family if they perished on the journey. Little did they know not even death could protect them from the scorn of the Graybush. The enraged two soon began to resent each other for no particular reason other than pure contempt for one another. Their bantering reached the point to where a fight broke out. As the two exchanged blows their seem to arrive a shroud of malice and hate. One of them picked up a jagged stone with the intent of ending the others life. As his blood boiled to climax that was murder he then realized exactly what was going on, it was the Graybush. He didn't really want to kill this man something was telling him to. A Grey essence if you will. Putting down the stone he got a up and indulged in a sigh of relief. His partner , quite perplexed, asked why he chose to not kill him. He replied by saying it's the gray THE GRAY!!!! At that moment they both knew what had to be done, they had to kill the infant.

My name is Ears, my real name is Nick but around here, Ypsilanti, I am almost exclusively called Ears on account of the 3/4 diameter gauges that reside in my ear lobes. They're not even that large in comparison to some of the other ones I've seen. Anyways, I live in Ypsilanti Michigan at a place referred to as 501 or the "Trash Track House" depending on who you talk to. I attend Eastern Michigan University along with my 4 other roommates. I'm currently working on my Bachelor in Fine Arts but a lot of my time is consumed by running seeing as in how I'm on the EMU Cross Country/Track and Field Team with two of the four other roommates that I have. I wont get into much of my accolades or lack their of because that only constitutes a fraction of what I find humorous or worthy writing about. The real gem of my life is my house or at least it's essence. I use the term house loosely because most of you would associate home as being a place where one can lay their head and escape the turmoil of their everyday life, 501 is anything but this.
To give one a mere glimpse into 501 I will present a question: At what time does the amount of urine in a trash can exceed basic human acceptable limits. I say this because this is just one of the problems that plagues 501 on a weekly basis. Don't get me wrong, I loved 501 when I first moved in aside from the fact that I had not an inkling of what I was getting myself into. i feel that whomever is reading this should know that this is the third year that 501 is being occupied by the EMU Cross Country and and Track team. You should also know it will be the last on account of an enraged landlord who just so happens to be the Antichrist. We'll get into the infernal spawn of evil later, for now I feel it is of dire importance to convey just how outrageous this dwelling can be.
Think of the drunkest you have ever been, now try and superimpose that drunkenness on to 50 people. That is barely breaking the surface of 501's debauchery. Though 501 is predominately secular some of the events that have taken place here have even us worried about our salvation. From drunken threesomes and basement tattoo parlors to severed arteries with high speed hospital runs 501 has seen everything just short of the rapture. All of these events have culminated in the unconditional love/passionate indignation that I now have for what they call 501. Keep following to hear to more about my hell on earth, next post will be about the only women I've ever loved also known as the Graybush.