A Real Goddamner of a Weekend

So I've been away for a while except for a little blurb from me and Fridge. The trappings of rural Connecticut have had me dealing with all sorts of things culminating with the festivities that are Parents' Weekend at my school. So as I sit here on my Monday day off watching a Paramore concert on MTV (Price is Right isn't on yet), I figured I'd give you an update.

As I just said, we had Parents' Weekend at my school this weekend. For the most part, things went smoothly, but having been at this for a little while now, there are certain things that go on that most don't know about. Having been an adolescent boy not too long ago, I remember that one of the things I did a lot was lie. Seriously I would lie to girls, lie to my friends, and even people I had no reason to lie to. Now, this is not an indication of the type of person I am, I just think that there is a pressure for young men to be cooler than they actually are, so they embellish stories and genuinely sound like jackasses in the process. The beauty of Parents' Weekend is I get to see how much these little pricks have been lying to their parents. And while most teachers get wood from seeing their teachings pay off, I love the looks on parents' faces when they find out that their little prick son has been lying to them for five weeks. Here are some instances this week. I'll just use arbitrary names for readability sake:

scha·den·freu·de or Scha·den·freu·de (noun)

Definition:

gloating at somebody else's bad luck: malicious or smug pleasure taken in somebody else's misfortune

[Late 19th century. <>]

Mr. Von D: Well Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, I believe that Johnny's struggles in Latin are not from a lack of understanding or anything like that. His issues stem from lack of effort and preparation.

Mrs. Johnson: So, even with the extra help, he's still not preparing for his tests and quizzes?

Mr. Von D: What extra help.

Mr. Johnson: Johnny told us he is seeing you AT LEAST twice a week for extra help.

Mr. Von D: Johnny has not once come to see me for extra help, and has not even asked me to set up a time.

Mrs. Johnson: ARE YOU KIDDING ME, JOHNNY?!

Mr. Johnson: Yeah John, and forgive me Mr. Von D, but that's total bullshit Johnny. We're paying all this money so teachers like Mr. Von D can help you and now you're just wasting my money.

Point of fact; this kid is a total asshole. Nothing made me happier than to sit there and watch him squirm in his seat, staring at the floor, while he was berated by his own parents. I just sat there in my chair, arms folded across my chest, trying not to smile, but inside I felt like a cute little kitty cat was playing with a ball of string in my stomach. Case study number two:

Mrs. Smith: I feel that you are putting unrealistic expectations on my son.

Mr. Von D: With all do respect, Mrs. Smith, I feel like asking a second year student to do his homework on a nightly basis, come to class on time every day, and study for a weekly vocabulary quiz is not asking a whole lot.

Mrs. Smith: Well, um...maybe you can give him less homework.

Mr. Von D (What I actually said): The problem with that Mrs. Smith, is that I teach to an entire class of boys just like Kevin, and they all manage to get their work done. So in that sense, I don't single your son out, he singles himself out by not doing what is asked of him.

Mr. Von D (What I WANTED to say): Lady, I don't come where you work and jump on the bed.

So that was Friday afternoon and Saturday morning for me. Just sitting in my classroom, telling parents how shitty their little rays of sunshine actually were. You'd think that if your parents were spending upwards of around forty thousand dollars to basically not deal with you, you might put forth a little effort. Instead, I get a bunch of speedbags who I basically just have to babysit while their parents drink Heinnikens on Nantucket. As far as I'm concerned, all these yuppy assholes with pink sweaters tied around their necks deserve asshole kids, because when it comes down to it, that shit is encoded in their DNA.

Now, in writing this it has dawned on me just how much pleasure I take in watching asshole kids fail. Let me rephrase that actually, it's not asshole KIDS, it's just assholes in general. My schadenfreude is not age specific. Honest to God I can sit here and watch YouTube videos of little kids falling off their bikes or idiot skateboarders skid on pavement for ten feet on one of their cheeks. I think it's the same reason I can't get enough of those Maury Povich shows with the paternity tests. One time a woman went through twelve guys and still didn't find the father. Think about that for a second. How big of a window are you working with in terms of a pregnancy. Doctors can pretty much get down to the week or two when that baby was conceived. That means this broad slept with no less than thirteen guys in the matter of two weeks, maybe three. That's a dick a day pretty much. So forgive me for gloating that this woman does not have a father for her fat, ugly kid. Am I a dick because I think people get what they deserve? Probably, but fuck 'em...they'd laugh at me too.

To finish off a very productive long weekend, I spent the day yesterday taking clothes I don't wear anymore (ugly sweaters and ripped jeans) to the Salvation Army. I also watched "Blades of Glory" in between the Patriots and Red Sox games, which I watched by myself in slippers, a pair of boxers, and a sweatshirt while eating Life cereal. I think today I'll go to the movies to see "30 Days of Night" by myself because nobody is around to go with me. I'm sorry, what? I can't hear you over the sound of how awesome I am.




Peacefrogs,
R Von D

PS - The girl from Paramore is only hot because she's behind a microphone. Lose the yellow eye shadow and we'll talk.

Romance Advice Care of Your Local Bloggers

Since the C has gone missing in action for the past couple of hours, and we haven’t given our readers much new material in the past few days, Ron Von and I cooked up some answers to a few of the romance questions that have flooded our inbox over the past few weeks. Enjoy.

Dear Pen 15,
I dated this really handsome chap for about 6 weeks this summer. All of a sudden, he broke up with me for what seemed like no reason. What do I do to win him back?

RvD: You should probably lay off the cry-juice and be a Bruin. Also, you sound like the type of girl who needs a man in her life to qualify her own happiness. If this is the case, you should either check the Fridge out on Yahoo personals, or drink bleach....take a lap

Dear Pen15,
My girlfriend and I have been dating for over a year now. Lately, it hurts me when I pee and my semen smells like feet. Is she cheating on me?

Fridge: No, she is just gross and has never heard of Summer's Eve. Buy her a 12pack of those and ask her to clean herself up.

RvD: Yeah, she's either baking bread or you have the clap...better get some penicillin in your penis-be-illin'.

Dear Pen15,
What should be my course of action if it turns out that all of the dudes that my new girlfriend is friends with obviously despise my existence?

RvD: This is a great question. Here's what I would do. You get in on a prank that they are pulling on her so you become one of them, no matter how mean it is. That way, if she breaks up with you for being a dick, you just made a couple new homies to play Halo 3 or have a circle-jerk with.

Dear Pen15,
I'm a 24 year old female who has spent the better part of the past decade messing with guys' minds. What could I possibly do to get back in the good graces of kind boys like Ron Von and Fridgerino?

RvD: Eiffel Tower....next.

Dear Pen15,
I'm dating a girl who is far too wealthy, far too pretty, and far to smart for me. How do I deal with the fact that I am obviously living a complete lie?

Fridge: Step 1 - Start stealing money from her wallet

Step 2 - Make her eat foods that will make her gain weight. I would suggest starting at Bickfords each day, two mid afternoon snacks at Taco Bell and finish up with dinner at Dairy Queen. They have really horrible cheeseburgers, and you're already there for dessert.

Step 3 - Start making her watch such Pen15 favorites as "Joe Dirt", "Benchwarmers", "South Park", and "Grandma's Boy."

In no time, you two will be on the same plane (financially, looks, smarts) and things will work out perfectly. And also, please feel free to eat a bullet before you start this plan so that I can have a chance with this bird.

Dear Pen15,
Are either of you guys available? Are K-Rock and Hambone single?

Fridge: I'm available if you don’t have a need for footwear in crowded karaoke bars, are under 35, don’t like hot tubs, do like burritos, are not offended by the C word and live by the phrase “the more, the merrier.”

RvD: I'm single if you have a boyfriend who you will cheat on with me.

RvD: K-Rock is single if you have dip

RvD: Hambone is single if you like any of the following:
Meedly-meedlies, video games, food, booze, frequent napping.

Dear Pen15,
What would be the best and most effective ways for me to ascertain a gentleman in my life the caliber of yourselves.

Fridge: You must be a good cook. You must laugh at movie lines that me, Ron Von and KRock find amusing. You must get along with my mother, no questions asked. Please also be named Lauren Conrad and star on The Hills.

RvD: In order to date a professional man of leisure such as R Von D, you must watch the movie roadhouse whilst eating bad chinese food and drinking Jack Daniels. Also, you must fill out the forthcoming R Von D date application and pay the alloted application processing fee (two double cheeseburgers and an oreo McFlurry).

Dear Pen15,
Where do I take a girl out on a first date to let her know I’m really into her?

Fridge: Strip club. I would avoid trendy restaurants at all costs. Because when you find out she’s not into you, you’ll be out a hundo and you won’t have spent that money gathering spank bank material. And if she digs the strip club, you know she’s more than likely what we in the biz call “a keeper.”

RvD: Amen, you're better off making dinner, watching a Pixar movie and pullin' a full-on cuddle hustle.

Dear Pen15,
Why do chubby, sweaty unkempt guys always stare at me in bars, but never approach me?

RvD: Because I'm waiting for you to come talk to me, obviously. Is this that girl from Peddler’s?

Fridge: Because social skills wasn’t an elective at my high school.

Dear Pen15,
I'm really into you guys, but my best friend thinks you're obnoxious...what do we do to fix this?

Fridge: Tell her to take the stick out of her ass and grow a sense of humor. If she fails to comply, I would suggest pushing her into traffic, crying at the funeral, and going out with me post-mortem for some cocktails and dick.

RvD: See, you have to ask yourself this: What is more important? Lifelong friendships or a dozen instances involving fifteen minutes of mediocre sex and an thirty seconds of cuddling and an abrupt exit?

Email us at PenFifteenBlog@GMail.com and we can hash that shit out, proper.

Back On My Grizzy

Coming Soon to the Pen15 Blog:
-Hambone's Review of Halo 3
-My description of why I hate everyone
-An overall review of P State after 1 month of shniz

I've been keeping busy, a lot of paper work

- K-Rock -

Band Names: A Brainstorming Session

So Ron Von Don and I are pretty good at karaoke as all residents of southern New Hampshire, Virginia Beach and Phoenix, AZ know. Our karaoke twosome was given the name "The Karaoke Revue" by a husky man who was the DJ one night at Grand Buffet. He also offered to be our manager if we ever made it big. We think that part of our appeal at karaoke night is that we have a creative name. Imagine if the band Slayer was actually called "Mike and the Mechanics" or something lame like that? It just wouldn't fit!

We have come up with some band names that we find humorous and are heretofore copyrighting for our own future use. If we ever find out that four kids use one of these as their own, we're driving cross country and beating them about the face with my Nike Venom softball bat (34 inch, 30 oz.)


Heavy Metal Category:
HatridPhist
The Pain Deities
Grievous
Ash of Your Flesh
The Heat of Hades
Flamethrower Death Fuck
Beyond Plethora
The Reservoir Tips

2 Man Band/Open Mic Night Category:
Munsonned
Guitarded
Okay Fine
The Shithouse Five (With two band members)

Emo Music Category:
Fat Legs in Stretch Pants
Lumberg Fucked Her
Second Star to the Right and Straight on til Mourning (NOTE THE SPELLING)
Stop the Train
Mad! At My Parents
Wrap Your Fears In My Nightmares
Daddy Come Home

Have a pleasant weekend,
Fridge and RvD

Waltham: A City on The Charles

As some of the readers may know, I recently moved out of my parents basement and into a 3 story duplex in the fighting city of Waltham, Massachusetts. There are two words that describe Waltham best: Blue Collar. On the surface, Waltham has not been much different than my southern New Hampshire hometown. Allow me to bring you some details on my first day here in town.

I spent most of an early September Saturday moving things into this lovely new abode of mine. My new roommate Wang (see the Lake Winnepasaukee blog entries) was most helpful, helping me lug an hdtv, Playstation, several 30 packs of Busch Light, the Hoopmom blanket, and underwear up to my 3rd floor penthouse suite. The move was the mostly inconsequential part of the day. In the mid-afternoon, after we had completed making my new living quarters feel like home (aka hooking up the surround sound and hanging up a Big Lebowski poster) several of our college buddies arrived. We proceeded to walk to the famous Moody Street Mile. For those of you who have not experienced Moody Street, let me do the math for you:

Nashua Main St
+ more bars that serve Pabst
+ attractive 20 somethings
- unattractive, unfriendly 30 somethings
- Christmas Lights on dying trees
+ A Margaritas featuring bartenders that notice you
- A Margaritas featuring bartenders that don't notice you
= Waltham Moody St

We found some steak and pitchers of beer at the underrated Sadie's Saloon. While named a saloon, Sadie's does not yet have those cool split doors. It does however have good food and cheap beer. After we finished dinner, we proceeded to The Skellig. The Skellig is the Waltham equivalent of Peddler's Daughter. Irish bar, loud music that you cannot hear yourself think over and a drunk Fridge acting inappropriately. We watched Clay Buchholz' no-hitter at the Skellig and I drank too much scotch. With 2 outs, I let the entire bar know that I would be buying drinks for the entire audience if he succeeded. After the last pitch I spent half a week's paycheck on Red Bull and Vodka. Not a good idea.

I noticed two late twenties ladies sitting in a booth not paying any attention to me. I approached them and asked why they didn't take me up on my offer of free drinks. They replied "oh, haha we didn't hear you." At this point, I decided that it was my conquest to get some on my first night in town. Big Ron and I spent an hour or so listening to a cover band ruin No Doubt and Matchbox 20 songs and I gained an interest in the younger, less husky, more attractive, more whorish looking of the twosome. Around 1am, the ladies invited Big Ron and I back to their place for some late-night drinking games. At this point, I started sweating profusely and getting the shakes because I thought that me and Big Ron might be "in." When we got back to these ladies' apartment, we played random drinking games for a while and everyone was really enjoying themselves, so we cool.

As I was about to pounce, I noticed a strange flashlight shining in through one of the windows. Then I noticed flashing blue lights out of another window. My first thought was "oh shit, these girls are really 14 and the guy from MSNBC To Catch A Predator is here." My second thought was, "oh shit, Big Ron isn't allowed within 500 feet of females due to that whole Jessica's Law thing." We heard an aggressive knock on the door and all four of us went to the front door. As simply as the Waltham PD could tell us, we found out "You are being entirely too loud for 2:15 in the morning, the neighbors aren't happy." I followed my old college instinct and did the first thing that popped into my head. I ran away. Big Ron and I got down the street and realized we could have made a wiser choice, but oh well. We stopped and bought a horrific amount of Chinese food for two people at one of Moody St's amazing ethnic food joints and proceeded to walk home. When we got home, Big Ron and I found out that our other three visitors and Wang were not as impressed with the smell of Chinese food at 2:45am as we were. We slept, we got hangovers, I called the night a success.

Could I get away with this kind of garbage at my parents house? Probably. But there was something that was fun about not having my roommates/parents to answer to at home.

Night One: SUCCESSFUL




Post Script: Later that week, after being frustrated that my favorite bird from this night hadn't called me, I got a voicemail on my cell phone that sounded something like the following:
"I don't know who you are, or why your phone number is in my girlfriend's phone, but you and your ogre friend need to stay away from her and stop getting the cops to come to her place."
Yes, I was a little intimidated at first, but after relaying this message to Big Ron, I found out that he and a Virginia Beach veteran named Tuba had totally punk'd me I just felt bad about myself, and I came to a realization.

Night One: UNSUCCESSFUL :-(