The Daily Derenger

9/28/2002

Iowa State beat Nebraska today 36-14. To most people who don't follow college football, you're saying big deal. Now normally I would agree with you. However, I watched the game with some friends who are Iowa State alumni. They hadn't beaten Nebraska in 10 years and, in that time, suffered very lopsided losses. The Cyclones beating the Huskers was surely something to celebrate all across Iowa. And especially wherever Nebraska fans had gathered.

I wasn't quite able to relate to my friends. I attended a community college and then a trade school. At the "high school with ashtrays," a.ka. community college, we had some good sports teams but who the hell got hyped up for them? Nobody. There was no television coverage outside the town of the school. No ESPN analysts were breaking the games down. And I'm sure Vegas didn't have a line on the Joliet Junior College Wolves versus the Moraine Valley C.C. Crusaders. Nobody tailgated in the parking lot only to pass out an hour before kick-off. Hooking up with a community college cheerleader was about as cool as wearing your hair feathered. There weren't really any battling rivalries and being an alumni of JJC doesn't make me want my to send my kids there. Ever. Hell, I don't even own a JJC bumpersticker with class of '96 on it.

My friends drank like fish, doing shots that will make them hit on fat chicks for sure. I left them at 5pm and they stumbled to another bar full of Husker fans to rub it in. It's times like those that make me wish I had gone on to a real four-year school. If I go back now at 27, I'll be able to buy students beer, rent them cars and maybe even pose as their fathers. What a dream come true. I'm sure the sorority girls will love me and my baldness and bank account with a minus in front of it. Where do I apply?

I'm off to watch more co-eds celebrate victories while figuring out who gets to take their virginities as a result. Tonight many Iowa State fans and alumni will be doing things that are only done when they beat Nebraska. "Sure it may hurt," says Meagan, sophomore Cyclone cheerleader, member of Sigma Chi, and the recepient of some produce in her ass later in the evening. "But it won't happen again for awhile so what the heck!"

That my friends, and not a degree, is what college is all about.

9/27/2002

Fu*%ing co*%sucker! I was all ready to post something great, as usual, in my Daily Derenger and it got erased 'cause I'm an asshole with this machine. I'm also stubborn as hell and I'm not writing it over. Fu*% that. Go play my perverted games to the left. And have as shitty a day as these last few minutes have been for me.

9/26/2002

I received a junk email yesterday about refinancing my home. It was from NateDogg32208@aol.com. NateDogg, with and extra "g." If you're serious about your job and it's not one as a rapper or pimp, come up with a credible name. You're trying to refinance homes, not break into them.

Now I would buy some weed or some speakers out of a van in a parking lot from someone called NateDogg but I would surely not want my house refinanced by him. Perhaps if he had only one "g" in dogg I would consider it. Come on Nate, like the song says you got to regulate. And stop sending me these emails. I haven't a hizz-ouse to refinance. And I never applied for a loan to be approved either. Hell I live at home still. Luckily, there is no interest on living in the purple room at my mom's. So NateDogg, maybe you can help in refinancing my Prizm. That's all I got for you home slice. Peace to the rest of my peeps.

9/25/2002

Yesterday was a day of unexpected greatness. I got $20 last night at Comedy Works in Denver for a show I did there last March. I was totally unaware that I'd get anything for my set. Freebies are great but cold cash is greater. More food and drinks for me now.

The main part of the great day lies in the following story. I am staying at an apartment provided for us while we're working Wit's End Comedy Club this week. I had a 2-week-old bag full of dirty clothes in my trunk that needed to be washed. I wasn't up for spending any more cash than utterly necessary. Therefore, I was excited to have a washer and dryer in the apartment. However, they are both small, make all kinds of horrific noises, and take 39 hours to dry a handkerchief. And this bizarre fact too: you can't wash AND dry simultaneously. It's one or the other baby! So my excitment quickly turned to disgust as I had to make the haul down to the complex's laundry facility and play the quarter-detergent-slots.

There were 3 washer and 3 dryers. I was the lone soul in there at first. Then they came in hoards and lined up like the Power Ball was at 47 trillion dollars. I had my clothes thrown about the room and then quickly tossed my dirty underwear on the machines I needed to use. It was like marking my territory without the urinating.

The washer lasted 25 minutes and the dryer 46. I came back to retrieve my clothes from the dryer when I realized what I had done. I had left my clothes in the dryer 7 minutes after they were done. My watch went off but made no noise to indicate my time was up. I had vultures soaring over the machines like there was a dead carcass to feast upon. I was worried that my clothes would be balled up on the floor or shoved behind the pop machine. Or maybe even sent on a barge to Barcelona.

I picked up the pace to the laundry room. Upon opening the door and saying a prayer, I saw one of the most beautiful sites ever: my clothes had been folded neatly atop a dryer unit. The socks had been paired and the shirts and pants folded nicely. All were still warm like fresh baked bread. Even my underwear was folded in half. Some total stranger had done the goodest of deeds.

This person could have taken care of all the clothes and left my drawers for me to handle with radio-active gloves. Not to be though. I guess I would've done the same thing. That 'what goes around comes around' thing is right on. I'm sure I'd bunch up a stranger's clothes only to have my pants rip up the ass 4 minutes into my first Letterman appearance.

So thank you to the laundry fairy. Your rewards will be numerous. And if you're a fine, young woman, I hope you enjoyed my silky skimpies. If you're a man, I'm burning my stuff and starting over at Target ASAP.

9/24/2002

I got my car washed yesterday. Or at least I attempted to. There were about 42,985 species of dead insects on the front of the Prizm. You could barely make out that the front license plates were from Illinois amidst the severed wings and decapitated bug heads. Which brings me to this point: Can't the bugs find somewhere else to hang out? They should be afraid of large, moving vehicles and find some cow dung to hover near. Cars are to bugs what airplanes are to us. Get the hell out of the way of the huge things and everyone will be okay.

Now getting back to the carwash ... It was one of those kinds purchased with a fill-up of gas. I got the best one, $8. It had about 34 features on it and included a "bug wash" cycle. I was sold on that alone and shelled out the cash. Hell, the wash could have turned my car lavender but if the bugs were gone, bring on the Purple Prizm.

Upon paying for my gas and the wash at the counter, the cashier told me that with the ultimate wash I got a free 2-liter of Coke. Excellent. Throw in some Jack Daniel's and a fun week awaits. I need to sell a 5th-of -Jack-Daniel's worth of stickers to afford the booze, though.

The wash began. I took the wash-time to organize my receipts and gather the car trash. The the car was blown dry and I was on my way. But not so fast. I knew how bad the car looked beforehand. I surveyed the job and was appalled. It was not even at .08 carwash. I tried to dry it off with a dirty shirt but to no avail. There were more spots on it than there were initially. It said the wash was "spot free" which must've meant that the spots left after the wash were no extra charge. An armless man could've used his feet to wash the Prizm and done better work. Hell, I could've sprayed the free Coke on the car and made it look cleaner.

I went in to ask for my money back. The car was parked right in front of the window for all to see. There was no debate that it was not clean. I asked for my money back and Poon-Jobbie said "no" in his best gas station owner's voice. He tried to give me another wash. "Now why would I want another wash when the one I just got was horrible?" He tried to give me a coupon to get a free one within 30 days then. "Thanks but no thanks. I need to get on the road and haven't the time for another bad carwash." He gave me my money back. I guess my diplomacy worked. Or maybe it was my threat to add another dot to his wife's head.

The Prizm still needs another wash. It's supposed to rain here in Denver so I'll just wait for that.

9/23/2002

AP --The results are in. The gold dollar coin is a bust. Having been on the market for over 3 years, the gold dollar coin has been used in less than 1% of transactions where a single dollar is needed. As a result, no further coins will be manufactured. In a related story, strippers everywhere are celebrating and getting the coins that slipped in their ass finally removed. "I felt like I was sitting on a piggy bank for the last 2 years," said Skittles, a 20 year-old dancer at the Furry Kitty in Salem, OR. "I didn't have them removed because guys just kept on paying with them. Plus, they were more comfortable than those beads."

Club owners and bar managers were happy to see the end to the coins. They said it made for longer than normal cash-outs at the end of a shift. The doormen who escort the ladies to their cars are glad to hear about a cease to coinage as well. Most of them were too drunk or passed out and unavailable for comment.

"I figured it had to end eventually. I can pick up dollars with certain body parts better than those coins. The bills make for a better show all around," added Midori, a 10-year veteran at the Kitty with the paper cuts on her breasts and inner thighs to prove it.