My tenure as an amateur columnist is coming to a close. But before I leave, there is still something I must do. As a quasi-humor columnist (and that's what I am no matter how unfunny you think I am) I have neglected a magnificent weapon in the humor columnist's arsenal. And that weapon is the RUNNING DIARY. So without further ado, I bring you a column dedicated to the great Bill Simmons himself, The Power Hour Running Diary.
10:58 - To begin, my buddy brought his Power Hour CD, equipped with 60 one-minute vignettes from popular songs. The hour begins with Van Halen's "Right Now." My seven compatriots and I are enthused, frightened and aroused. Ok, maybe THEY aren't aroused.
11:05 - Our seventh shot comes with a toast to the recent fall of DTD. Hazing is bad. We make Steve, the youngest guy there, shotgun a beer and then do 20 push-ups.
11:09 - Outkast comes on, giving us a metaphorical shot in the alcoholic arm. The song ends way too early, with the follow-up, Cyndi Lauper leaving within me, an inconsolable depression.
11:10 - We have a discussion on the irresponsibility of the Greek system here at Tufts, after which we give Steve his paddling and poke him with red hot cattle prods. Beetnutz comes on at number 14, and my friend Karim begins to tell me his story about how the weekend Beetnutz performed at Tufts my freshman year, the Africana Center had its annual retreat, so the entire Beetnutz audience was white Jewish kids FOR THE THOUSANDTH TIME. This kid repeats his stories more than an Alzheimer's-afflicted Ronald Reagan. Wait, too soon?
11:14 - REM comes on with "End of the World." Everyone tries to sing along. Everyone fails. We bury Steve alive.
11:18 - Two beers in, I have my first "I'm graduating" moment. I'm strangely at ease with it. Completely sober Saj would have an anxiety-created seizure. My idiot friends are singing out-of-tune to "Come Together," which two of them mistake for the Aerosmith cover of the song. Absolute idiots.
Veronica Carter drops by, takes a few shots, and then puts us all on Probation I. Steve comes back and we're all very careful around him. He looks uncomfortable.
11:22 - Tenacious D - "Wonderboy." Great song. John and I have our first Cowboy, Indian, Bear match of the evening. We both choose Indian, and it results in a draw. CIB is basically a more interactive Rock, Paper, Scissors: Cowboy beats Indian, Indian beats Bear, and Bear beats Cowboy. As easy as that. By the end of the night I am confident I will get inside his head. No white guy beats an Indian at Cowboy, Indian, Bear.
11:25 - Conversation is sparked on how Adam Duritz from the Counting Crows is Jewish. Some are in disbelief; some are not surprised; others don't know who he is.
John does his impression of Jackie Chan singing "War" by Edwin Starr, earning him the title of "the drunkest man in the room." Sadly, my money was on my little buddy Larry. He's short and all over the place.
11:28 - Second "I'm graduating" moment: I notice the rancid taste of the Miller High Life we're drinking. Man, is it terrible. In two months, I think, I may never have to taste it again. NEVER. Unless, of course, I do not improve my employment prospects. I begin to cry.
11:32 - "Bohemian Rhapsody." Oh God. Hands-down one of the most prolifically used drunken karaoke songs ever, trumped only by "Living on a Prayer" and possibly the "Doogie Howser M.D." theme song. My friends are the worst singers in the world. Larry starts to take off his shirt and is eventually persuaded not to. We all catch our breath.
11:37 - The running diary is proving easier to write than I thought. Consequently, I am approaching my word limit at an unheard-of pace. I decide to slow down, get drunker, and possibly make fun of my friend Kirit for wearing a Phillies hat. John snarfs. Weezer is on. Sigh, college.
11:40 - Coolio comes on, prompting the "What the hell happened to Coolio?" conversation. Singing along, I forget the words to "Gangsta's Paradise" and seamlessly jump into "Amish Paradise," the Weird Al incarnation of the song. Then comes Skee-Lo. Do the hits keep on rolling or what!
11:43 - I learn that the lead singer for Sister Hazel is black. My world is turned upside-down.
11:45 - My friend Justin has been collecting the empty cans to make a beer-amid on top of the living room table. I resist the very strong urge to burst through them like the giant ape in the arcade game Rampage. Remember Rampage? Oh God, I'm entering the drunken nostalgia phase.
11:51 - Bhangra music hits the CD, track 47. I feel strangely connected to it. Steve, who seems to have fully recovered psychologically, prompts me to dance. I do it. Then comes the six-way Cowboy, Indian, Bear. I pull out the old Cowboy on those unsuspecting bastards who predictably play Indian. Poor predictable white people. Curiously Steve also plays cowboy. We suspect him of cheating and intravenously inject grain alcohol into his bloodstream. Hazing is a terrible, terrible thing.
11:53 - You know you're drunk when you are singing along to Chumbawumba. In fact, that should be the international sobriety test. The awesome songs keep coming. It's definitely key to have a killer last few songs on a Power Hour CD. It can make or break your night
11:54: I consider the irony of shooting paintballs at people painting the cannon. Oh, the delicious irony!
11:57: Homestretch. Blind Melon - "No Rain." Good song, not great. I'm wondering, do I like it just because I'm drunk?
11:58: The last song is absolute crap. CRAP. In a drunken fervor, we start the CD over again, intent on finishing off the remaining beers. The 'beeramid' falls, the cardboard 30-boxes are emptying, and my friend Larry is peeing into a cup in the corner of my living room. Problem sets be damned, this is what college is all about.
Saj Pothiawala is a senior who is majoring in economics. He can be reached via e-mail at sajid.pothiawala@tufts.edu.
