Of Barbarians and Hurricanes

I’ve been a bit busy.

Last Friday I made my pilgrimage down to my esteemed place of scholarly learning, The College of William and Mary.

This is where I go to school.

For those of you who don’t know, The College was founded in 1693, making it the second oldest institute of higher learning in America. Thomas Jefferson went there so Harvard can suck my theoretical dick. It was founded by a royal charter by these two hotties:

And now it serves as the Hipster capitol of the mid-atlantic.

To get there from my home, I had to take I95 Southbound. This trek usually takes me about two hours. However, the police made last Saturday “Let’s Piss Of College Students Trying To Achieve Greater Knowledge” day, and decided they would use the influx of students driving down to school as an excuse to fill their ticket books. The ensuing rubber necking and traffic accidents caused I95 to be backed up. Five hours later, and I was still on the road. I was so hungry that i had to stop in Ashland for a burger on the way down.

Ashland is a small town near Richmond, best known for a documentary in which they bitched about a Wal-Mart moving into their neighborhood for two years, and then decided that the low prices were too hard to resist and proceeded to shop there all day every day afterwards.

Worst. Town. Ever.

So there I was, after five hours on the road, chowing down on my burger at a stop light. Perched on the median were a few scruffy twenty-somethings who looked burnt out, and like they hadn’t bathed in a week. They held a sign saying they were hungry and needed food, a ride, anything. They looked high as fuck but I almost felt bad enough anyways to give them one of my burgers. It was at this point that they started to point and laugh at me, and started screaming things like “YOU LOOK SEXY EATING THAT BURGER, DAYUM.”

So I did something I have never done in my life:

I stood up for myself.

I flicked them off.

And it felt awesome.

And then I drove away as fast as the dickens.

So, after around six hours and two burger patties I finally made it down to my dorm room. It’s small, because after 300 years William&Mary still doesn’t have enough housing. Harvard may have us on that one. Still, it’s cozy and a veritable den of nerdom, which I share with one of my very best friends. The walls are adorned with a map of the Star Wars galaxy, a portrait of the entire cast of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and a fake love note from Tim Riggins of Friday Night Lights. Our carpet is one of those playmats they sell for kids, with a town on it so you can drive your cars around and play with your action figures.

This is us. Basically.

So I brought all of my action figures.

I love our room.

A few days after moving in, we rounded up our gaggle of friends and decided to see Conan the Barbarian. Most of my friends wanted to see it for the ‘sexy’ hunk of man meet that is Conan. I don’t really find the rugged, skull-smashing type sexy. I usually go for the skinny, bookish type. I don’t think Conan has ever seen a book, and if he had, he probably ate it and washed it down with the blood of his enemies.

"What is book?"

So I decided that I would treat the film as a Judd Apatow-style comedy.

I would summarize the film for you, but I really can’t. All I know is this:

It started out with Conan being born, a bloody, pale fetus, very similar to that trippy scene of Voldemort in the latest Harry Potter flick.

What WAS that about, anyways?

Then, Conan was a child, who liked to take a friendly game of “beat the shit out of your friends” and turn it into a less friendly game of “spot your village’s enemies and rip their skulls off.”

Playing-- he's doing it wrong.

Then his father is killed by a sadistic wizard warrior king and his crazy witch daughter. So years later he becomes muscular, revenge bent Conan, and the father-daughter team that fucked his life off has some creepy sexual tension that I tried to ignore but really couldn’t.

This is not okay.

Then a girl is thrown into the mix, and Conan just basically tells her to shut her stupid whore mouth until they eventually have sex

But with a face like his, who could resist? Oh, that's right, me.

That’s all I can really tell you. I think Conan won in the end. It’s been like four days and I don’t even remember.

Oh yeah, and it was in 3D. It was only showing in 3D. And it was the most eye-fucking, blurry 3D I have ever witnessed. Who the hell wants to see barbarian sex in 3D?

Oh, that’s right. Most people. Maybe I lack a sense of fun and whimsy. Maybe i’m growing cynical as the years slip by. Or maybe it was just a fucking terrible movie.

Arnold is disappointed.

Anyways, the only thing more destructive than a terrible 3D movie about a guy who lists his hobby as ripping people’s heads off and displaying his pectorals for all of the barbarian world to see is a hurricane, and that is what is pounding on outside my window.

The thing is, i’m not blogging this from the comfort of my nerd-den. I’m back at home in northern Virginia, listening as my parents watch the Antiques Roadshow on PBS. The college of William and Mary evacuated due to Hurricane Irene. I had to make the trek back up I95, though this time it only took about three hours. A giant Civil War era tree just fell down inches from my house, and the change in weather has caused my sinuses to bug out.

The truth is, whether or not you’re a barbarian or a lowly college student, there is never a dull moment. Life is an adventure, full of traffic, heckling stoner hobos, terrible movies, and felled historic trees. And that’s what makes it worth living. You never know what’s going to happen next.

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