TFLVP: 2/9/2011

(813): Let’s be real, if you didn’t live with us, you’d just sit in your room and never leave.
(615): That just makes me think if I’m ever in prison, I’m gonna kill someone so I’ll be put in solitary confinement, because it won’t affect me like everyone else.

(631): It doesn’t matter! He’s still a rapist!
(407): Not a rapist; sexual opportunist.

(615): Oh, man, something smells delicious.
(813): That’s cigarettes.

(585): XXXO!
(423): I forget whether x is kisses or hugs but I accept them nonetheless

(407): I can’t sleep at night when there are people on the internet that need to die,

(615): This room smells weird…
(813): It smells like someone hasn’t left it.

Anyone for Tennis? The Slant’s Comprehensive Guide to the Australian Open

Hey there all you sports fans. If you’re like me, then you await the arrival of the Australian Open with the same giddy delight that a young adolescent feels the first time he wets the bed (and I don’t mean with piss). If you didn’t know that the Australian Open was going on, then you probably are either: (A) not a sports fan, (B) someone who has never wielded a tennis racquet before, (C) a failure like 99% of America, or (D) a little cunt. So assuming you fall into one of the above categories, let me go ahead and indulge you in a little bit of tennis knowledge so that next time you find yourself hobnobbing with the upperclass folk, you can impress them with your expansive knowledge of this snooty and pretentious sport.
When the average person hears women’s tennis, they immediately think, “Sharapova.” The men think, “That Sharapova is pretty good looking, maybe if she played naked or something this sport would actually be interesting.” The women think, “Fuck that Sharapova bitch! She’s not THAT good looking.” Unfortunately for you, men, Sharapova has recently been engaged to the newly traded savior of the Lakers, Sasha Vujacic. If it’s any consolation, she had shoulder surgery a few years back. When Vujacic was asked about how this affected their relationship, he retorted, “After the surgery, Maria had to switch to a western grip. Things just haven’t been the same since.”
Besides for Ms. Sharapova’s (who really isn’t that good anymore), just toss around some big names, For example, Serena Williams (with thighs the size of an average person’s torso), Wozniacki (who’s some hooker from Denmark who was the favorite to win the Aussie Open), and Clijsters a slut who got knocked up because she forgot her plan B and had to take some time off, but now she’s back). Name-drop like a pro and those rich assholes who love this sport will be drooling over you.
I’m assuming that there is a better chance that the conceited prick with whom you’ll be conversing about tennis is a man, so he’ll be interested in women’s tennis for less time than it takes a muon to decay: microseconds. You’re going to have to step up your game up to play with the big boys of men’s tennis if you really want to slob on their knob.
Here are some names to remember: Federer, Nadal, Murray, Djokovic, Roddick. Federer is pretty much the best ever, so I’m going to assume you’ve heard of him somewhere; if not, get your head out of your ass. Nadal hails from Spain and dominates the French Open more than your dad dominated your mom when you were conceived. Murray is this ugly ass bloke from Scotland with facial hair that makes Paul Pierce look like a grizzly lumberjack. Novak “Choke-a-Bitch” Djokovic is from Serbia. His nickname was bequeathed to him by none other than Sir Wayne Brady for his extensive contributions to the fields of pimping and raping.
Last and least of these players is Andy Roddick. He’s the best American player and is probably one of the greatest fucking disappointments to ever bring his talents to the courts. After winning the US Open in 2003, he hasn’t won jack shit. Interesting tidbit about Roddick, he’s married to Brooklyn Decker. She’s that incredibly gorgeous babe you may have seen on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. Some have speculated that, recently, Roddick has been too busy sticking his rod into Brooklyn to focus on what he’s really good at: sucking Federer’s dick.
So, there’s the wide world of tennis for you in brief summary. I trust that you Vanderbilt students now possess enough information to uphold a lengthy conversation about tennis, at least one that’s long enough to change the subject to coloring (for HOD majors only), nerdy-ass shit (for engineers), or drinking (for everyone else).

TFLVP: 1/27/11

(908): Is it weird that watching you program is getting me off right now?

(865): There’s this girl that has this condition where she sleeps ten days at a time, and she’s hot.
(813): Well, it’d be ok if she let you do things to her while she’s asleep.
(865): Wow, dude.
(813): What? You gotta get your rocks off somehow.

(407): If I renamed my zipper “fro-yo shop,” bitches would be all up on my dick.

(813): In my lab, we are working with silicon.
(615): You gonna make some boobies??
(813): That’s silicone.

(615): What are you doing tonight?
(820): Gonna jopo. Jerk off, pass out.

TFLVP: 12/8/10

(615): You put cranberry juice in your Dr Pepper?
(407): It’s got 23 flavors. Why not make it 24?

(718): Nicki Minaj has ass implants?
(407): Hey, that means there’s still hope for you!

(615): This new Ke$ha song is so bad…
(813): Hey, I’d dance to it if I were blackout.

(865): When I go to catch a football, I pretend it’s like a girl’s tit. I’m all over it, and I’m sure as hell not gonna let that one get away from me.

(813): I don’t wanna do homework.
(615): Me neither…
(813): Let’s just do a bunch of cocaine!
(615): Yeah, man, we’ll get ALL the answers right!!!

Haiku Corner: Haiku #273

Unmotivated.
I hate school; require sleep.
Fuck engineering.
ずくがない。
学キライ。寝る。
ファック工科。

TFLVP: 11/17/10

(813): I can’t remember the last time I had a stomach ache that couldn’t be cured by taking a huge dump.

(404): Why do you keep your insulin and condoms in the same drawer?
(859): They are of equal importance.

(407): When I take a test, my brain is like diarrhea- it just comes out right away. I’m not gonna sit there and stew over it; I’m just gonnna drip what I know all over the page.

(888): That elevator’s going down – don’t get on it!
(999): We’re on the 14th floor…

(615): At this point I would welcome gonorrhea.

(817): …and I will put on my prissy pants whenever I want to!

(636): SPOTTED: Clay on a date at Café Coco!

Neil Newspaper Comes Clean

­­Hello Vanderbilt, I’m Neil Newspaper, writer for The Vanderbilt Hustler. I get no greater steamy thrill than when I hear giddy squeals of joy emanating from fellow Commodores as they read my articles. I’m sure they revel in my thinly veiled sarcasm and irony, which I deploy masterfully like a tank commander moving to flank his enemy. I subtly cloak my intentions by taking on the perspective of the group I disagree with. For example, I’m more of a coffee drinker, so I wrote an article as “Tommy Tea-bagger”. Sadly, Vanderbilt didn’t allow the article to print. I blame the Numi Tea Company. Those rapscallions!
How did I learn the sultry art of objective journalism? My step-uncle, Percival Newspaper, took me to Vanderbilt, his alma-matter, when I was twelve. He showed me the plaques the Hustler garnered during his illustrious and glorious stint as a magnanimous and beneficent editor-in-chief. He had written articles about being a bra during a bra-burning protest (Benedict Bra), which he told me, caused fire to be banned from Vanderbilt from 1969-1986. It was a good run. He had also ran a piece detailing the life of a fruit-fly from start to finish, so he could illustrate how cheap life was in the Soviet Bloc. A regular Charlie Wilson, that man. I learned almost every one of The Hustler’s standard operating procedures, including giving the football team good grades, even when they only pass for 28 yards in a half. I knew then, that this once-strapping man was to be my muse- my marble Persephone from which I would draw my inspiration. Jubilee!
I have never been a fan of tilapia. I needed to get that off my chest. What am I a fan of? Turning miniscule events and using them as a grandiose brush to paint an editorial canvas with. For example, I stepped in gum yesterday, which inspired me to write this article. What is this article? It’s about the joys of writing and the pressures of responsibility. It’s about a fear of failure and our duty as Americans to use analogies. And sentence fragments. Or maybe not.
Maybe it’s about going out on a limb and taking some risks while writing for the school newspaper, which appears stitched together and threadbare all too often. It could be about trying to provide a fresh perspective, something that’s interesting at least, to this publication. Or about an appreciation for creativity. It could even be praise for The Hustler for presenting some well thought-out journalism and critical thinking on a tough issue (BYX).
Then again, it could be about the dangers of falling right back into hold habits- the Damoclean threat of the status quo.

TFLVP: 10/27/10

(615): Do you ever wonder when you’re “tugging it” that you use up all the good sperm cells, and later in life when you want to have a kid it’ll be all deformed?

(949): I can’t wait to go to DC and see the exhibit about the history of American Indians.
(865): That sounds awful. I’d rather shoot myself with a bow and arrow.

(813): If you can slip two fingers down your waistband and gently caress your own balls, then the jeans are the right length.

(949): You can’t chew on dicks! That’s your teeth!

(690): Hey, here comes the keg! Oh no, it’s just a fat guy.

(615): You give me crap about Koreans eating dog, but the Flintstones ate dinosaur and they had one as a freaking pet!

(217): I took 11 hours that semester, had a 2.3 GPA, and my grant still went up!

The Ten Masturbation Commandments

Recently, masturbation has come under fire, mostly from the same people who choose not to have any sexual intercourse with any person of the oppositesex and remain celibate until marriage, or until the “right one” shows up, or God descends from the clouds and says “be fruitful and multiply.” (Oh wait, I think that last one already happened.) Anyway, we’re not scientists, but we at The Slant think that our readers need to relieve that sexual frustration that our ape-like ancestors left for us in our DNA.
Now, if you follow politics and also follow the logic of Delaware Senate Candidate Ms. Christine O’Donnell, who said in the 90s, “The Bible says that lust in your heart is committing adultery. You can’t masturbate without lust!” then please do not read any further. These rules and regulations are only for those who are guilty of committing this adulterous crime.
Are they gone? Alright, cool! (By the way, all of us that are still reading should have a party and not invite the abstinent folks.) So, even though we don’t consider masturbation to be a sin, we still believe that there are ways you can sin while masturbating. Even though you’re alone, well, most of the time, there are still certain rules which should govern your behavior while jerkin’ it. Until now, these rules have been mostly regional and inconsistent and thus relatively ineffective. That’s why we’ve gone all the way up Mt. Semen-ai and come back with these: The 10 Commandments of Masturbation!
(1) When in doubt, whip it out.
Alright, so, this is for all of you with roommates. It’s a quiet afternoon during finals, and your roommate’s out taking their test. You look at the clock: 4:55. You can’t remember if their test ends at 4:30 or 5:30. You’ve been stressing over your finals, and you want to relieve a little stress before the next cram session. One decision can lead you to a miserably embarrassing and awkward situation and one that your roommate would never let you live down. The other can bring you a few seconds of unbelievable relief that only a precious few nights of raging could match. The clock is ticking; what do you do?!?! Well, it looks like almighty has once again and stepped in with the answers. Take care of that raging monkey in your pants and finish the job. Who knows? Maybe one day your roommate will be the on that chair staring at the computer screen, and then you’ll be even. Hey, there are always single rooms for next year!
(2) Warn your roommates.
This one is especially important for all of us undergrads who live in dorms with impossibly thin walls that sometimes seem to amplify rather than block sounds form the next room. We suggest working out some sort of system with your roomies to politely let them know when you’re holding a private party. For example, in our suite we shout “Fore!” loud enough that everyone knows not to go in the back room for a little while.

(3) Exercise moderation.
There’s a pretty simple rule of thumb for this one: if you’ve ever skipped something to spend more time waxing your giraffe, that’s too much. Get outside and get some fresh air! And while you’re there, don’t forget rule #6.

(4) Two or more shall never “cross-streams.”
If you ever feel the urge to jerk one out with your buddy right by you, don’t cross boner toner. If I understood he movie Ghostbusters correctly, and I’d like to think I did, crossing streams could cause total protonic reversal. That would be bad.

(5) Do not involve unwilling participants.
There are two real reasons why this one makes sense: first, if somebody else is involved, it’s not really masturbation. Also, no means no, Lance.
(6) Never beat it in the street.
There is nothing decent about that exposure unless you’re getting paid for it. Keep indoors or rent a private hotel room for you and rosy palm lips, presidential suite style, and take your time to peel that banana.

(7) Protect
thyself from the white-devil.
OK, folks, so this one’s open for interpretation, but we here at The Slant would like to think this one’s for the Trojan users out there. Rubber it up if you don’t want to clean it up! Plain and simple.

(8) Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy and untainted.
It looks like the G-man decided to keep this one in for reload. You know what this means, put away the MAXIM and lock up your tissues. No squeezing the purple-headed yogurt slinger on Sundays or Saturdays depending on your denomination. Your little guys need some time to rest for the next big race!
(9) Use the hand I have given onto you.
Law of diminishing product in economics states production will diminish as you increase one variable and keep the others constant. Therefore, one hand is always better than two for the optimum choking of your chicken. If you happen to be one of those poor dudes that lost his hands in a freak fishing accident or the Vietnam war, arm rubbing is always allowed – but just one. Good luck with that.
(10) The golden rule.
Remember this: the Lord’s golden rule that is useful throughout life but especially salient here. I quote The Book of Luke, Chapter 23, Verse 4: “And the LORD said ‘Loveth thyself as thou would loveth thyself.’”

TFLVP: 10/6/10

(865): I went to Costco for the first time today, and that place is the dog’s balls.

(615): When it comes to girls, you gotta go slow.
(615): She wasn’t a girl; she was a stripper!

(690): Why are there so many normal looking people in this room? Is this an engineering class?
(420): Yeah – civil.

(615): If I were given a 100 percent chance of getting a blowjob, then I would walk all the way to UT Knoxville.

(615): I have a job for you: if over the next week it looks like I’m spending a relatively large amount of time interacting with any single girl, you are to promptly kick me in the balls.

(480): You need to learn how to punch a woman.