<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394</id><updated>2009-02-20T18:50:58.639-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stories from College</title><subtitle type='html'>This is an open forum for the 6 of us (Chris, Mike, Michael, Marc, Nick, and Joe) to tell the stories of our sordid past.  Have fun watching, it should be updated every day.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>60</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-112650422293098266</id><published>2005-09-12T00:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-12T00:50:22.946-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pike House, Year 4</title><content type='html'>So we are officially old. Yep, real old.  As evidenced by Friday night, when we went to the Pike house to see Cowboy Mouth.  Their lead singer looks really gay by the way.  Anyway, I drove after we went and ate at Old Venice, and there was a line of like 100 people outside.  We found out that it was the girls line, so Mike and I skipped with Nick up to the front so we could pretend we were rushees.  We had to sign the list- Mike scribbled, I wrote down "Hairy Old Man."  Anyway, we got in the door and proceeded to watch Kellie and Brandee skip literally the entire line and just walk to the front of the line.  I think all of the freshman girls were just amazed that they had the guts to do it, so they didnt say anything, and the girls got in pretty quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the night was uneventful, but there are some really good quotes, and I will share them now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike decided that it was taking entirely too long getting up the stairs, so he started screaming out "I am a very important person!  VIP coming through, get out fo the way!  I know important people and I have 600 friends on Facebook!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My technique was more aimed at the freshman girls, as I tried to convince more than a few that they were handing out free Chi-O bids upstairs.  I also told Kellie that a girl that passed us by on the stairs looked like a character from Tim Burton's Nightmare Before Christmas, and the girl heard me and got pissed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ran into our friend Amy in the hall, and she was rather intoxicated, and attempting to get rid of her drink, so she gave it to Nick.  This is Mike, from 15 feet away in line at the bathroom:&lt;br /&gt;"Nick, don't drink it!  It's got the AIDS!!!!"   We all pretty much died after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last thing noteworthy at the party is that we were trying to find a ride home (God Bless Ashely Guinn, the best dd EVER) and we were in a room off to the side of the real party. SOme girls wandered in and we started talking to them, and the fire alarm went off.  The more intoxicated (or just dumber) one asked what it was, and I told her it was the free beer alarm.  She was like "Really?"  and I told her yes, that it goes off once a party at the Pike house and all the rooms hand out free beer.  Her friend looked at me and rolled her eyes, and told her it was the fire alarm, then they just kinda left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outside the house we were waiting on Ashley to come get us, and there were a bunch of groups of randome freshmen passing us.  Mike interacted with three different groups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Group 1:  &lt;br /&gt;Girls:  Hey, do you know what time the Rebel Ride comes by?&lt;br /&gt;Mike: Yea, 9:15, 9:30, 9_15. 9:30, 9:45....&lt;br /&gt;Girls:  Ohhh, he means every 15 minutes, thats not bad (Mike had no idea what time the Rebel Ride came).  We're going to the Library!&lt;br /&gt;Mike: I love the Library!  It's the most awesome place in the world!  DJ Mario is playing, he's the greatest!&lt;br /&gt;Girls:  Is he making fun of us?&lt;br /&gt;Mike:  No no, I really love the Library.&lt;br /&gt;Girls:  Oh ok, sorry.&lt;br /&gt;(Mike was obviously making fun of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Group 2:&lt;br /&gt;Mike:  Hey guys, they're not letting you into the Pike house unless you have your collar popped.  Pop your collars!&lt;br /&gt;Guys:  Oh ok, we better pop em.  Thanks man!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Group 3: &lt;br /&gt;Guy:  Do you have a lighter?&lt;br /&gt;Mike: God does.&lt;br /&gt;Guy:  Are you God?&lt;br /&gt;Mike:  No, but you'd be surprised, I get that alot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, the end, goodnight.  -Chris&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-112650422293098266?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/112650422293098266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=112650422293098266&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112650422293098266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112650422293098266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/09/pike-house-year-4.html' title='Pike House, Year 4'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-112371100101826454</id><published>2005-08-10T16:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-10T16:56:41.026-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Go To Hell LSU</title><content type='html'>THe nite before the lsu game sophomore year me and nick began drinking at the ole miss basketball game, we then drank at the pike house and finally met up with everyone at northgate. After consuming enormous amounts of alcohol, i decided to get some drunk food. I ordered dominos and chris, kellie, doug, and i all went to get it. As we were driving there we yelled at every possible person we saw screaming "go to hell lsu". After we got the pizza we decided to see what the square looked like. We got on the square and the on the right side of the street was all lsu fans and on the left side was all ole miss fans,each cussing and screaming back and forth. Doug and I sitting in the backseat started to scream "go to hell lsu" again. This time some of the lsu people heard us and started banging on chris' car. We rolled up the window and just sat there because the traffic was so bad. These drunk cajuns just kept hitting our car. We finally made it out of the square and continued drinking. -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-112371100101826454?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/112371100101826454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=112371100101826454&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112371100101826454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112371100101826454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/08/go-to-hell-lsu.html' title='Go To Hell LSU'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-112321182681670722</id><published>2005-08-04T22:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-04T22:18:22.376-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tequila Shot Nite</title><content type='html'>Every college student share the same experiences, and believe one of those is those random tequila shot nites. On our occasion, Joe had gotten a handle of Jose Cuervo tequila. Joe and I were talking about how we wanted to go to the bars taht nite. We decided we would pregame by doing tequila shots that way we could be drunk by the time we got to the bars. So we went to Wal Mart and got a couple of limes and some salt. At about 7 oclock that nite our evening began. Naturally the first couple of shots were rough and were very spaced out. However as time passed we just kept taking shots, one after another after another. By about 830 or so we had each had about 10 or 11 shots of tequila. After the last shot of tequila Joe and I were hammered. I remember laying underneath my bed, joe was laying on my bed so there was no where else for me to lay, and then i remember waking up and looking at the clock. It was 12, I woke Joe up and we realized the tequila had knocked us out, we missed going to the bars. We then proceded to pass back out as we were still wasted. I havent had tequila since that nite but i think another might be in order -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-112321182681670722?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/112321182681670722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=112321182681670722&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112321182681670722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112321182681670722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/08/tequila-shot-nite.html' title='Tequila Shot Nite'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-112295758418078457</id><published>2005-08-01T23:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-01T23:39:44.196-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The 6 Week Jeans</title><content type='html'>Sophomore year was a special football year for Ole Miss. They won 10 games and went to the Cotton Bowl. They also had a six game winning streak during the middle of the year, that gave hopes to an SEC championship. Most people think its because of Eli Manning that the Rebels played so well. This, however, is not the case. The reason the Rebels won 6 games was because of me and my jeans. The day before the Florida game I washed my jeans, the next day I went over to CHris' house to watch the game. He kept saying that Ole Miss was gonna win, I told him he was crazy. Well Ole Miss ended up winning, and then they won again the next week. Now back sophomore year I did not do my own laundry I simply waited until I got back home and got my mom to do it. Well I came home during one of the weekends and my mom asked if she needed to wash my jeans. This was during a Ole Miss football game. This got me to thinking, the last time these jeans were washed was the day before the Florida game, I cant wash these jeans now Ive gotta ride this out. So i did. I wore the jeans everyday for 6 weeks and Ole Miss kept winning. Then the LSU game and the jeans ran out of luck. The next day I put the jeans in the laundry. Now everyone knows the real reason Ole Miss was so good. -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-112295758418078457?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/112295758418078457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=112295758418078457&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112295758418078457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112295758418078457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/08/6-week-jeans.html' title='The 6 Week Jeans'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-112278241494032504</id><published>2005-07-30T22:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-30T23:00:14.963-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Nite</title><content type='html'>So last nite we needed someone to give us a ride to the square. We called Sarah Bynum and she gracioulsy agreed to drive us. We all loaded into the car and she told us no alcholic beverages in her car. Chris and Kellie managed to sneak two bottles of bud light into her car. The car was full with me Chris Kellie and my sister, Emily, in the back seat. I was up against the window so Chris told me to dispose of the bottles out of the window. I casually unrolled my window and droped the first bottle with no problems. I then waited and dropped the second bottle. Next thing we know, a police car lights are flashing behind us. We were all like  "Fuck". We pulled over and it wasnt one cop car, it wasnt even two cop cars but three cop cars. Two cops approached and shined flashlights in our eyes. They asked if they knew why we got pulled over. We said because we threw a beer bottle of the window, they said that and we were speeding. The officer then asked who threw the bottle out the window and I admitted to it. The lady told me she just picked up my trash. SHe asked for Sarah and my drivers license and we handed them over. The lady officer started acting crazy. She started banging on the front seat passenger window and Eric started to roll it down. The entire time she was knocking on the window going hello, hello. Chris explained to her we had all had something to drink and Sarah was our dd and she was taking us to our friends house. I then told teh lady Sarah had seen several cops tonite and we didnt want to get pulled over with a open beer bottle thats why I threw it out. The lady started acting crazy again saying and I quote "I see dead people". Now i have no idea why she said that but she did. Suddenly a fourth cop car comes up and she asks what they should do with us. They decided not to give us any tickets and then the crazy lady officer told me that next time i throw a beer bottle out of the window that i need to aim for a street sign. She said "its easy all you have to do is flip you wrist". She then showed me how to hit a street sign wiht a beer bottle. A male cop approacehd and said "next time your throw a beer bottle out the window make sure there arent any cops around". I responded by saying yes sir and then he handed me the beer bottle i threw out the window. They told us to get a dd tonite and dont litter and dont speed. We thanked them and drove off. -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-112278241494032504?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/112278241494032504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=112278241494032504&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112278241494032504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112278241494032504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/07/last-nite.html' title='Last Nite'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-112241208089226363</id><published>2005-07-26T16:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T16:08:00.900-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Marc's Pizza</title><content type='html'>Freshman year we were all hanging out in Marc and Chris' room. Marc ordered two pizzas. Now as most of you already know, Marc is lazy and would pay people to go get his pizza for him. This time he persuaded Andrew and John into going to get the pizza for a dollar each. They went downstairs and got the pizza and brought it back upstairs. The thing is they didnt bring it directly to Marc. They took a detour and ate one of the pizzas. They ate the entire thing except for a single pizza crust. Finally they showed up and we wondered where they had gone to. They just said they were waiting for the pizza guy to show up. Marc opened his first pizza and everything was fine and then he opened his second pizza and there was a single pizza crust in the box. He questioned Andrew and John, but they told him they didnt touch his pizza. Marc immediately got on the phone and called the pizza place and told them one of their delivery men had eaten one of his pizzas. Marc was so pissed. -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-112241208089226363?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/112241208089226363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=112241208089226363&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112241208089226363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112241208089226363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/07/marcs-pizza.html' title='Marc&apos;s Pizza'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-112189795460278657</id><published>2005-07-20T16:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T17:19:14.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Top Oxford Characters</title><content type='html'>People always say how Oxford is a quaint Southern town and it is but one of my favorite part of Oxford is the people or should I say the characters that inhabit this place. Its no wonder Faulkner was such a good writer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. John the Cajun at Pizza Hut - John just barely made the list but if you have ever been to Pizza Hut on University chances are you have dealt with him and his unaudible Cajun accent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Larry the barber -  We found Larry by an ad in the DM. It said to come and visit his gentleman's club so we did. Chris and Nick went to get their haircuts and while cutting Nick's hair, Larry stopped and started brushing his own hair with the very comb he was using of Nick's hair. Nick became a regular and on another occasion Larry asked Nick "if he had a big stick" Also Nick asked Larry to buy an ad in the Pike Calender which he did, I believe the ad read "Boys dont forget your sticks"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Nelson Mandela -  I guess after he was freed he decided to come to Oxford to be free because he can be seen wandering Unviersity. If you wave at Mr. Mandela he will wave back. Mr. Mandela does not seem to believe in using automobiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Angry Willie at Pizza Hut - Another Pizza Hut entry on the list. Angry Willie works at the Jackson Pizza Hut and he often is the cashier. Angry Willie makes the list because he looks so so so mad everytime someone tries to pay their bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Coco Princess -  Others might have different nicknames but I am referring to the "thing" at Taco Bell. After 3 full years at Ole Miss, we still have no idea if it is a he or a she.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Jesus -  Jesus can be seen on campus walking in a Delta Gamma pledge jersey and playing with young children in the grove or Jesus can be seen at off campus parties. We saw Jesus the other day at our neighbors party - they introduced us and he said he was Jesus. Chris said "Hey Jesus" and Jesus responded "Hello my son". Later in the nite Chris was arguing about St. Christopher carrying baby Jesus across the river. Jesus said "Yes he did, when I was very young"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Chops - As a previous entry talks about Chops works at Back Yard Burger and does Elvis impressions. His persona and sideburns are why he is so high on the list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The Leaner - One of mine and Chris' favorite people in the world. We first discovered the Leaner at Chicken on a Stick late at Night. He was simply leaning in the corner and people watchiing especially the girls. Well everytime we went to CHicken on a Stick he was there. One day Michael talked to him and found out his name was Joel. We havent been to Chicken on a Stick in awhile however we still see the Leaner around. Now he can most commonly be seen sitting on the Wal Mart bench, with his pants unbuttoned, watching all the people. One day Chris and I saw him get in his car and we decided to follow him to see where he lives. The Leaner was parked at the store end of Wal Mart so we raced in our car and followed him. He drove from the store side of the parking lot to the grocery side, where he parked again and went and sat on the benches on that side to resume his people watching. -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-112189795460278657?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/112189795460278657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=112189795460278657&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112189795460278657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112189795460278657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/07/top-oxford-characters.html' title='Top Oxford Characters'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-112123314239472546</id><published>2005-07-13T00:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-13T00:39:02.400-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chops</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3815/910/1600/greatest%20pic%20ever.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3815/910/320/greatest%20pic%20ever.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of our favorite restaurants in Oxford is Back Yard Burger, the food is always so good and everyone can agree on it. One day Chris heard on the radio that there was gonna be an Elvis impersonator at BYB, we decided to get a group and go. Now if you have been to BYB you know the guy who is always there, the larger fellow with the incredible side burns. His name is Willie, but I gave him the nickname Chops and its stuck ever since. Well Chops was the one doing the Elvis impersonation and I must say, It was one of the finest shows I have ever seen. Not only did he beautiful sing Elvis classic after Elvis classic, Chops was the ultimate showman. He didnt mind stopping after a song and posing for a picture (like the one above). Nor did he mind taking time to dance with his wife. Chops also added some comedy to his show by wearing a pair of misproportied sunglasses. Now the turn out wasnt that great that nite at BYB, but if word gets around about his performance, Chops could be the oldest and dare I say best American Idol yet. Thank ya, Thank ya very much -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-112123314239472546?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/112123314239472546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=112123314239472546&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112123314239472546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112123314239472546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/07/chops.html' title='Chops'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-112113157217142474</id><published>2005-07-11T20:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-11T20:29:07.150-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Memphis Grizzlies Drinking Game</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3815/910/1600/drunk%20wiht%20cameron1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3815/910/320/drunk%20wiht%20cameron1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One nite while watching the Grizzlies on tv, I got the idea that we should play a drinking game while watching the basketball game. My idea was to take a shot of beer everytime the Grizzlies scored a point. Nick or Chris didnt want to partcipate so I played alone. I started at the beginning of the 2cd quarter and by the end of the third quarter I was done. I took about 65 shots of beer and was getting pretty drunk. My problem was that in the these two quarters the griz seemed to score at an incredible pace. There was one point where they hit a three pointer and then stole the ball and hit another three pointer -  that was 6 shots of beer like that. The amazing thing is when I quit at the beginning of the 4th quarter the griz only scored like 15 points that quarter. After telling Cameron our idea, he said he wanted to try it. So one friday nite Cameron and I played the game again. I made it about half way through the thrid quarter and was forced to resign. Cameron, however, kept going and ended up doing a total of 98 shots of beer. I believe the Memphis Grizzlies drinking game has become one of his favorite drinking game - next time the Griz are playing I recommend trying it. (The picture above is of Cameron and I after the game was over - we were intoxicated) - Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-112113157217142474?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/112113157217142474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=112113157217142474&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112113157217142474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112113157217142474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/07/memphis-grizzlies-drinking-game.html' title='The Memphis Grizzlies Drinking Game'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-112078904710020765</id><published>2005-07-07T20:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T21:17:27.106-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tunica Part 2: The Casino</title><content type='html'>After our driving adventure, we made it to the casinos where they thoroughly checked each of our id's. Each time they told us, "yal barely made it." Chris headed for the roulette table and Nick, KEllie and I followed. Chris won his first hand and they immeditalely ided us again. After awhile Chris lost his money and we decided to go meet up with our friend Crady. When we got there, Kellie decided she wanted to gamble. I went with her and she got me a free beer. Kellie started gambling and I started up a conversation with the lady next to her. I asked her how much money she had lost, she said about $300 dollars. I told her she should have invested her money into a mutual fund. She just kinda stared at me. After Kellie lost her money we found everyone else. Im not really sure where everyone else was, I was quite drunk. The next thing I remember was being with Crady and her friend, Jordan. They went to the black jack table where Crady won on her first hand. I told her to quit while she was ahead, but she didnt listen to me. After her and Jordna lost their money I think my drunkeness was getting to everyone. I then went with kellie again to gamble. I bet 3 dollars and lost all 3 dollars. While we were switching slot machines, I asked an old lady how much money she had lost on the nite, she responded "$1000, you have to take the good with the bad". I told her I felt really bad and wanted to give her a hug, so i did. After gambling a bit more we were leaving the casino I saw Tommy West, Univ of Memphis' head football coach. I went up to him and shook his hand, I told him I wanted to wish him luck in the first game of the season and to Go Rebels. After taht we left and came back to Oxford where we all passed out. -MIke&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-112078904710020765?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/112078904710020765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=112078904710020765&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112078904710020765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112078904710020765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/07/tunica-part-2-casino.html' title='Tunica Part 2: The Casino'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-112078470339080235</id><published>2005-07-07T19:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T20:05:03.396-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A night of firsts</title><content type='html'>Ok, its been awhile, but I'm back.  Here's a freshman year story for ya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of us really drank in high school, and I had never drank until we got to Oxford.  About the second time I ever got drunk was quite the experience.  Joe, Marc, and I had decided to go out on a Monday night, and Marc said he would drive my car.  We met up with our friend Crady, who we had literally met 3 days before, and went to this girl Robyn's house, way out in the county somewhere.  Joe and I decided to start drinking with everyone else, and we had our first taste of Aristocrat vodka, 8 dollars for a plastic handle.  Let me tell you a little something about Aristocrat vodka.  The name is misleading.  They should call it dirty peasant vodka.  Anyway, Joe and I both had vodka and fruit juices, and when Robyn tried to stir Joe's drink, he responded "No way, stirring is for pussies."  They all looked at him kinda funny, as did I, but he managed to choke down his drink, just so he wouldn't catch hell for it.  About this point Joe lost his hat, and we still haven't seen it to this day.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all piled into my car, with Marc driving, and me riding "super-bitch" in the Xterra.  If you hang out with us, you knwo that super bitch is in the very very back, with assorted cases of water, sporting equipment, and jumper cables.  Not the msot desirable seat in the world.  Well, apparently I bitched the entire way about how it was my car and I shouldn't have to ride super-bitch, but I think they gave me a drink to shut me up.  Remember, this is only my second time drinking really, so I was having fun.  We got to the bar, and discovered, once again, for the first time, Penny Pitchers, affectionately referred too as Drinkin' with Lincoln.  It may be the main reason why so many freshmen miss Tuesday classes, I know I did that Tuesday.  We then promptly stumble into the bar, and somehow pitchers of beer appear.  At this point, my memory was fading in an out, but this is pretty much what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe and I got into several chugging contests with Robyn and Crady.  We got our asses kicked.  Bad.  These girls were sophomores, and had a year of penny pitchers on us, thus beating us into the ground, and getting us very drunk at the same time.  After about an hour (I guess) of this, we lost the girls, and Joe and I started stumbling, and I mean stumbling around the bar.  Joe and I went to the bathroom, and on our way out, Joe ran into a bouncer.  Like ran into him.  He knocked Joe over.  When he picked him up, he goes "Son, I think you've had enough to drink."  Joe looks at him, actually, more up at him, he was a pretty big dude, and goes "Go fuck yourself."  Joe claims he doesnt remember any of this, but I remember watching Joe being literally tossed out of the bar, and me finishing my beer before I followed him out. We didnt really know where to go from the parking lot, so we wandered over to the big grassy hill leading down from Jackson Ave. and proceeded to lay down.  It was really freakin' comfortable.   So we drunkenly stared at the stars for awhile, then called Mike and Nick to come get us.  This is a rough transcription of the conversation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Dude, you need to come get us!&lt;br /&gt;Mike: Where are you?&lt;br /&gt;Me: The hill man, the big hill.&lt;br /&gt;Mike: Ooook, what are you near?&lt;br /&gt;Me: A parking lot, and some grass, and dude! look at the stars! I think that's the big dipper! hahahahaha!  (other randome drunk sayings, etc.)&lt;br /&gt;Mike: Ok, we'll find you, stay put.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe and I then passed out.  Yes, in one of our prouder moments, we passed out on the hill next to Billiard's.  We were your stereotypical freshmen to the extreme.  MIke and Nick then appeared from somewhere, and took us back to the dorm.  The next thing I know, I'm sitting at a booth in Chevron, eating my first chicken on a stick with Joe, Marc, and Crady.  I to this day have no idea how I got there or how much time elapsed.  Anyway, Marc, who is totally sober, proceeds to give Crady like a 45 minute quiz on her sex life, and Joe and I just sit there and laugh.  Somehow we get home, Joe gets back to Kincannon, and Wednesday, I went to class. Hotty Toddy.  -Chris&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-112078470339080235?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/112078470339080235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=112078470339080235&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112078470339080235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112078470339080235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/07/night-of-firsts.html' title='A night of firsts'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-112061727456615453</id><published>2005-07-05T21:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-05T21:34:34.573-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tunica Part 1: The Ride</title><content type='html'>This is gonna be broken up into several parts since its a long story. We start off in the right direction and Nick and myself are drinking a couple of beers while we are heading to the casinos. Nick is the one who knows the directions. Chris gets off at the 265 exit, according to Nick the correct exit. We then are faced with one of the biggest decisions of the nite, right or left. We go left. Left was apparently wrong. We started driving down a two lane rode and everyone kept reassuring each other we were going in the right direction. The two lane rode we are one keeps going and going. We then see a sign of hope ahead. Fireworks, the casinos must be shooting fireworks for the 4th of July weekend. Once again we were wrong, there were a bunch of kids just shooting off fireworks. Next to the kids was a gas station. Nick and I are feeling quite good right now and Chris and Kellie almost convinced me to go in a get directions from the gas station. After a wise decision not to enter the gas station we kept driving. Finally after driving awhile we saw lights ahead, finally civilization. The civilization that is Batesville was ahead. We had headed back south towards Oxford. We called some people and got correct directions and stopped at a gas station to get gas and more beer. Chris convinced Nick and I to buy Steel Reserve, the worst beer EVER made, its horrendous. Back on the rode, we were bored. Our music selection was dwindling and I was feeling quite content so I offered to sing to everyone. After a couple of songs like "Do it do it do it or Dont" my singing finally got to everyone. Eventually we ended up in Tunica, Im not really sure how but we made it. -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-112061727456615453?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/112061727456615453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=112061727456615453&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112061727456615453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112061727456615453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/07/tunica-part-1-ride.html' title='Tunica Part 1: The Ride'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-112033677020354992</id><published>2005-07-02T15:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-02T15:39:30.210-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sneaking Beer into a Frat House</title><content type='html'>Freshman year we were going to a Pike Party. Nick informed us that beer would be hard to come by and that we should bring our own. Well we were too late to hide it anywhere in the house and we had to come up with another way of sneaking our own beer in so no one else would take our beer. It was very cold outside and Chris had this heavy jacket. After much debate we decided to put all the beer in his jacket and let him walk into the pike house with all that beer hidden into the various pockets of his jackets. It had to be obvious that something was going on because Chris' jacket was shaped very funny while entering the house. Just like fraternity tradition they didnt care and we quickly found an empty room and enjoyed our beer. -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-112033677020354992?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/112033677020354992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=112033677020354992&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112033677020354992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112033677020354992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/07/sneaking-beer-into-frat-house.html' title='Sneaking Beer into a Frat House'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-112009867621030174</id><published>2005-06-29T21:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-29T21:31:16.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Curb</title><content type='html'>Freshman year at Deaton Chris always seemed to park at the same spot. It was right next to Deaton and close to the emergency exit. Well during our sophomore year when we moved in we noticed that the spot now had yellow paint on it. The yellow paint was pointless it covered up maybe 4 feet and was very very pointless. It was just enought paint so you couldnt park there. After awhile Chris got frustrated and we took things into our own hands. Chris, Kellie, and myself headed to Wal Mart late one nite and bought gray spray paint. We then went over to the spot and sprayed the spray paint to cover up the yellow paint. It was not an exact match but it was good enough and Chris was able to park there again. So if you ever need to park in a spot that has yellow paint by it, just buy some gray spray paint. -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-112009867621030174?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/112009867621030174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=112009867621030174&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112009867621030174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/112009867621030174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/06/curb.html' title='The Curb'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-111930933615034659</id><published>2005-06-20T18:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-20T18:15:36.156-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sneaky Tiki</title><content type='html'>Friday nite, Kellie, Brandee, Marc, Nick and myself headed to the square to bar hop. After a couple of stops we ended up at the Sneaky Tiki. We got in and Nick started to talk to some Pikes. Marc and Brandee went to go get drinks and Kellie and I were talking. Kellie and I then saw an empty swing so we went and sat on it. We were people watching when Marc and Brandee came over. They asked us to make room so we did. Now this swing was not intended to hold 4 people. Shortly after Marc and Brandee sat down, the swing snapped and we all went and hit the ground. Marc and Brandee had broken the swing at the Sneaky Tiki. We all gathered ourselves and some other people started to point and laugh. When then left the area and didnt stay much longer -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-111930933615034659?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/111930933615034659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=111930933615034659&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111930933615034659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111930933615034659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/06/sneaky-tiki.html' title='Sneaky Tiki'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-111921162534119257</id><published>2005-06-19T14:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-19T15:07:05.350-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Near Death Experiences</title><content type='html'>College brings a lot of new experiences, even the occasional near death experience. Chris, Nick, and myself all have had our own near death experience - sort of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nick: Nick has a food allergy to chicken. If he comes in comtact wiht it he can die. Freshman year Chris and I are walking back from Bio lab and we see Nick. We yell at him and he just waves to us and keeps walking. He was heading towards the student health center. We didnt think anything of it, we just thought he was taking care of some business. Later taht day I got a call from the nurse at the heatlh center and she said nick was there. We went there and found Nick who was fine. He told us once he got to the heatlh center that he told the receptionsits he couldnt breathe and she just told him to sit down. H e waited for about 2 minutes and then told her again he couldnt breathe, finally after telling her for quite sometime that he couldnt breathe she took him to see a doctor. Nick ahd three different doctors trying to figure out what happened to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chris: Chris got a conccussion from playing basketball one day. Walking back to the Union Chris said he felt weird. I just kinda brushed it off not really thinkgin about it, that is until we saw our frined Craddy who Chris called Brandee. We found Marc and asked him what to do, since he's pre med and all, Marc didnttake us seriously. We then saw Laura Piazza and asked her waht to do, she said dont let him go to sleep and to take him to the hospital. Joe and I took him to the hospital and they found out Chris had a mild concussion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike: After a nite of drinking me and CHirs were eating some candy. Chris then started to throw the food into my mouth, while trying to htrow a chocolate raisen in my mouth I began to choke. I tried to cough but i couldnt, Chris then asked me if I was choking, I shoke my head yes. Chris then performed the hympleic manuever on me and the raisen came flying out. We then continued to drink. - Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-111921162534119257?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/111921162534119257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=111921162534119257&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111921162534119257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111921162534119257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/06/near-death-experiences.html' title='Near Death Experiences'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-111878305471060206</id><published>2005-06-14T15:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-14T16:04:14.713-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to Freshman Year</title><content type='html'>Freshman year, Joe and I were playing xbox in my dorm room we he gets a call from Michael. Michael was a freshman at Murray State. Joe answers teh phone and Michael is absolutely wasted. Oh yea he was also lost. Joe is trying to tell him to go back to his dorm. Then Callum, our neighbor from Scotland, entered the room. We handed him the phone and he started talking to Michael. Now Michael had no idea who he was talking to and was quite confused. After talking to Callum, Joe got the phone back and asked Micahel where he lived. Michael said he didnt know but that his dorms name was on his student id. Joe told him to read his id and see where he lived. Michael responded by telling Joe that he cant read. We told Michael to give someone his id, so they could tell him where he lived. Michael said there were two guys near and that he was just gonna give his wallet to them. Joe told Michael to run away. Michael ran away and then approached a stop sign. Michael said he was gonna stop at the stop sign because he didnt need another ticket (Michael was walking). Finally Michael made it home, im still not sure how, but he did -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-111878305471060206?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/111878305471060206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=111878305471060206&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111878305471060206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111878305471060206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/06/back-to-freshman-year.html' title='Back to Freshman Year'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-111817980964877571</id><published>2005-06-07T16:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-07T16:30:09.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stephen Head</title><content type='html'>With today being the major league baseball draft I have decided to write about my story with Stephen HEad. Freshman year, as yal know we lived on teh same hall with the baseball players. Baseball season had begun and everyone was talking about how good Stephen HEad was. I hadnt gone to any games but I had seen his stats and was impressed. One night after drinking, our door was open and I was talking in my room with Nick. Stephen comes down the hall to brush his teeth. I said "hey" to him and told him if they need any extra baseball players to let me know because I was good. He smiled and said "OK". I said "no seriously Im real good I have a dominating change up, it goes about 45 miles an hour, you couldnt even hit it." Nick was in the background shaking his head and Stephen just laughed and walked away. Now when he's making millions of dollars, I can tell my children I told Stephen Head he couldnt hit my change up, and you know what he still couldnt hit today -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-111817980964877571?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/111817980964877571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=111817980964877571&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111817980964877571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111817980964877571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/06/stephen-head.html' title='Stephen Head'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-111758861167828710</id><published>2005-05-31T20:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-31T20:16:51.683-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Benny Hinn</title><content type='html'>After the bars close, and all the late nites are over what is a college student to do? Well we were put into that same situation earlier this year. While trying to find something to do at all hours of the morning we stumbled across the minister Benny Hinn. Benny claims to be able to help the less fortunate, and you too can help by simply sending in your money and he will use it for a greater good. We were interested so we decided to call him. We elected Marc to do it because Marc does great impressions (ask him to do LaShawn). After a good laugh we left it alone. That is until the next week when we were bored again. This time I called Benny Hinn (we saved his number in our phone). I talked to a young man named Carlos, and a lenghty conversation with Carlos he asked if we were going to donate any money, he then quickly got off the line with us. The next week same scenario, and once again we talked to Carlos (what were the odds). Week after week kept calling and week after week we kept talking to Carlos. Finally after we heard the words "This is Carlos can I help you?" We would all collectively scream his name. Now Carlos wasnt flattered by this and hung up, this became routine whenever we got Carlos on the line. We did find out some things about Carlos before he started hanging up on us, he is bilungial, he is a swinging bachelor, and we think his favorite movie is Desperado. Call Carlos yourself at  817-722-2000 or 800-433-1900  we found that he usually works in the early mornings on Saturdays. -MIke&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-111758861167828710?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/111758861167828710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=111758861167828710&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111758861167828710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111758861167828710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/05/benny-hinn.html' title='Benny Hinn'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-111725562523043068</id><published>2005-05-27T23:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-27T23:47:05.240-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Living in the Dorms</title><content type='html'>Living in the dorms sucks and heres why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. the check in rule is so baffling to me, people must be checked in and must leave at a certain time however we are able to do everything else by ourselves, but it wasnt too bad because you find ways around these rules like the emergecny exits that is until a cop hangs out in the basement, but i guess thats why there are 2 emergency exits&lt;br /&gt;2. Space is very limited and while it is nice to be on your own you essential live in a shoebox&lt;br /&gt;3. Bathroom need i say more&lt;br /&gt;4. In deaton's case, when you walked back into the dorms with food there would always be a football player asking for some of your food, that and yelling at passerbys, mostly females&lt;br /&gt;5. I had more but cant think -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-111725562523043068?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/111725562523043068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=111725562523043068&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111725562523043068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111725562523043068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/05/living-in-dorms.html' title='Living in the Dorms'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-111707838204314838</id><published>2005-05-25T22:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-25T22:33:02.046-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Laura Piazza</title><content type='html'>Marc and Chris were running Hardy Cases presidential campaign freshman year and the night the results were to be read, they made the mistake of leaving me and Nick alone in their room. We began talking about how pissed they would be if Laura was to win. Nick got a great idea that we should print the picture of her from her website and put it all in Marc's stuff. This way later in the week he would find the pictures and if she won he would be really really pissed. Well we then decided to put the pictures anywhere and everywhere. We put the pictures in their books, under the computers, and in their beds and under their mattresses. We then got real clever and went to the fridge. They happened to have kraft singles, we put a picture in between each kraft single. When then put her picture on every other item of food, we then opened the microwave and put some in there. By the time we were done the room was covered. They didnt get back til late but we were confident they hadnt seen them yet. They hadnt, and the next day they began finding them everywhere. They found those pictures until the day they moved out. -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-111707838204314838?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/111707838204314838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=111707838204314838&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111707838204314838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111707838204314838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/05/laura-piazza.html' title='Laura Piazza'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-111604224869001479</id><published>2005-05-13T22:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T22:44:08.696-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flaming Dr. Pepper Nite</title><content type='html'>Chris and I decided to start drinking one nite, before we could partake Stewart knocked on our door, and asked us for beer. He explained he was making flaming dr. peppers, you fill a cup up with a beer adn then you drop a shot of amarito and everlcear in but first you must light the shot on fire and amazingly it tastes just like dr, pepper. Anywho we did a couple and then continued to drink. Chris Rock was on tv and we decided to drink everytime Chris Rock cussed. Basically we got real drunk real fast. We ended up going out to the Library and had a great time. We did not have a ride however, so we wandered to Chevron. At Chevron I told Chris I would get us a ride. I approached a jeep full of tri delts and asked them for a ride, they said no. I continued to beg, they asked where we were going I said Saddle Creek. They were going to the Links, I told them that was perfect because Saddle Creek is right on the way. They kinda laughed and said no for a final time, I left them alone. Chris adn I then began to wander on the Square. There was an older gentleman and i apparently yelled, "Hey Old man give us a ride". Still no luck. After that we went to a large group of people waiting for a ride outside of Old Venice. I took a couple of pictures wiht some of them, and then the rest of the nite is a blur. I woke up the next morning hungover, but it was a great hangover -MIke&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-111604224869001479?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/111604224869001479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=111604224869001479&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111604224869001479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111604224869001479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/05/flaming-dr-pepper-nite.html' title='Flaming Dr. Pepper Nite'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-111535782035947629</id><published>2005-05-06T00:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-06T00:37:00.393-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ant Farm</title><content type='html'>My father sends me new stuff each week in the mail, a couple of weeks ago he sent me an ant farm. He figured they would be the perfect pets for a college student low mainteance etc. Well Chris, Nick and I finally got the time to go get ants. We filled the farm with the sand and then attempted to build tunnels for the ants. However we were unsuccessful in building the tunnels. We then found a huge ant hill. Chris procedded to kick it over, and once he did thousands of ants came hauling ass out of the hill. We got two sticks and tried to get the ants to run on the sticks, we were gonna stick the sticks wiht ants into the farm. Alot of ants quickly ran onto our sticks and while we tried to put them in the ant farm, they were soon crawling on us. One actually bite Chris. We finally got the little bastards into the ant farm. We got about 40 ants into the farm. They didnt seem too happy though. Anyways we got back home and realized we needed to feed our pets. We thought to ourselves, what do ants eat and drink. After discussin this problem, we realized Crystal Light powder would be their drink, they could use their saliva and make crystal light real quick in their mouths, and a chez it would be their food. We put the food into the farm and for some reason they seemed ever more unhappy. We put them on the balcony and let them be, the next day we checked on them and realized we are not yet ready for pets because all our ants are dead. Im not exactly sure how they died but they are dead, maybe the birds living on our balcony can be our next pet. -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-111535782035947629?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/111535782035947629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=111535782035947629&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111535782035947629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111535782035947629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/05/ant-farm.html' title='Ant Farm'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-111465223374272567</id><published>2005-04-27T20:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T20:37:13.743-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Water Bags</title><content type='html'>Freshman year when Marc's birthday came around Brandee decided she was going to come by the dorm and decorate his door for his birthday. Some how we found out about this and decided we had to stay up and mess with her somehow when she came by. We elected to fill up some water bags and when she was leaving we were gonna drop the water bags on the awning and scare her. When the water bags hit the awning it sounded like a car crashing. She called Chris and asked him to open the emergency exit so she could sneak in later, he did so. At around 2am I guess we heard her and saw the shadow while she was decorating the door. We then patiently waited and when we saw a small amount of light appear from the emergency exit door (since it was nite you could see the lite from the basement when the emergency exit door opened). When we saw the lite, we dropped two 3 gallon water bags on the awning. They instantly crashed into the awning and we saw the door slam shut. We all started laughing our asses off. We waited to see what she would do, we then saw the door slam open and saw Brandee running away towards her dorm. -Mike&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-111465223374272567?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/111465223374272567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=111465223374272567&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111465223374272567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111465223374272567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/04/water-bags.html' title='Water Bags'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11295394.post-111447788715227959</id><published>2005-04-25T19:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-25T20:11:27.153-05:00</updated><title type='text'>O'Barcus</title><content type='html'>Marc and I got to move in before most of the rest of campus freshman year, because he had the Honors College Retreat, and I was lazy and wanted to take advantage of the elevator.  (Nope, broken.)  As it is with every dorm, the names of both roomates were taped to the door by the RA of that floor.  Across the hall, Marc and I saw we had guys named Chris and O'Barcus.   I thought he might have been Irish.  I was wrong. &lt;br /&gt;    O'Barcus was quite possibly the most animated figure I have ever met.  Had we not lived on the same floor in the same dorm, I'm pretty sure he never would've spoken to me.  But, had he not, he wouldn't have been able to take what probably amount to over $100 worth of bottled water from our fridge, without asking.  O'Barcus was about 5 foot 10, but he was really ripped and his personality, was, um, intimidating.   He also had a live-in girlfriend.  In an all-guys dorm.  I would pass 'Toya in the mornings coming in and out of the shower, both of us in our towels.  Thing is, no one really thought anything about it, she was as much a part of the hall as anyone else.  It annoyed the hell out of his roomate though, but he apparently would just roll over on his bed (which had cartoon WWF sheets, not kidding) while O'Barcus and 'Toya, um, went about their business.  An aside- One night Marc got locked out of the room and I wasn't there, so Chris told him he could sleep on O'Barcus' bed because he was out of town.  Marc politely declined.&lt;br /&gt;     O'Barcus especcially intimidated the girls that we had come visit.  He would always inevitably ask "Hey Chris.  Is that yo girl?"  and if I responded no, he moved in like a vulture to a carcass.   This did not make 'Toya, or any of our female friends very happy.  O'Barcus also took a special liking to Brandee, consistently saying he wanted to "cut" her.  Still not sure about that one.  It was really funny because any time Brandee came over and sat on the futon, O'Barcus would go sit uncomfortably close to her, and start trying to talk to her.  Brandee would usually move, and he would move right beside her.  They were like magnets.  But alas, Brandee did not return the sentiment, and O'Barcus eventually moved on, or lost interest. &lt;br /&gt;    There are a wealth of O'Barcus stories, most of which shouldn't be mentioned even here, what with pornography, armed robbery, and the like, but he was quite the entertaining character.  I didn't see much of O'Barcus after freshman year, but I did hear that he and Toya conceived a beautiful child together.  One day I ran into him at the Turner Center.  I told him I heard he had a kid, and asked if it was a boy or a girl.  He told me it was a boy, and when I asked his name, he said "trisisinnn.'"  I couldn't understand him, so I asked him again and he responded, and I am not kidding:&lt;br /&gt;"Tristian, or something.  Shit man, I don't know how to say it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's to O'Barcus, a young Irish gent who can;t pronounce his own child's name.   -Chris&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11295394-111447788715227959?l=rebelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/111447788715227959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11295394&amp;postID=111447788715227959&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111447788715227959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11295394/posts/default/111447788715227959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rebelstories.blogspot.com/2005/04/obarcus_25.html' title='O&apos;Barcus'/><author><name>rebelblogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00608759063267773432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07054685685495543627'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>