Taking an extended sabbatical from the site while focusing on the real-world.

Story time boys and girls...

So the other day, I get a call from Richard Ferraro, my old nemesis and the Dean of Students at Bucknell University (my alma mater). Perplexed as to why he might be calling, I decide to hear him out instead of telling him to blow me.

Per usual, he was a complete kiss-ass:

"I just spoke with your mom, she gave me your cell number. How's D.C. treating you? You know I always thought very highly of you and your friends despite any situations that might have occurred with your fraternity being suspended. I hope you know that I did everything I could for all of you in that situation."

As expected, after a few minutes he comes out with what he really wants:

"Hey, I was wondering if you would take down the post on Modified Living that compares me to an Iraqi henchman? A family member Googled my name and was disheartened by your attack on me."

Haha. So apparently if you Google "Richard Ferraro Bucknell" an archived front page post (scroll down) from this site comes up which likens Dean Ferraro to Watban Ibrahim Hassan, one of Saddam Hussein's former advisors. Well, shit. The internet never stops amazing me.

Anyways, seeing as I was caught slightly off guard by this whole conversation in the first place, I told him that "I'll see what I can do about it." He quickly thanked me, then immediately hung up.

I sat there for a moment, then called my mom to yell at her for giving out my number. As always, my mother weighed in with her two cents regarding the issue at hand... because that's what mother's do.

"Be careful of karma. If you continue the bad energy back to Dean Ferraro as you experienced him doing to you... then more bad stuff will happen to you. The whole idea of karma is that you have the power to change it by doing good things to others."

Wrong. I am not concerned with my OWN karma. I am fucking invincible.

Rather, I am acting as an instrument of karma for Richard (I will no longer call him by his slave name of Dean Ferraro.) Think of me like the hand of God. Accordingly, not only have I decided to leave my writings on Modified Living as they were originally posted, but I am making this entire ordeal public as to raise awareness (and possibly the Google ranking) of the Richard Ferraro's dickery.

Behold the email I sent to him the very next day:

Dearest Richard,

I fail to see any real reason to appease your concern in this matter given that on more than several instances the pleas and concerns of myself, my fraternity and many of my close friends fell upon deaf ears by you and your associates. Perhaps in future interactions with students you'll be more wary of your level of courtesy, respect and honesty... and maybe not be such an Iraqi sympathizer.

Hugs, kisses and body rub downs,

Noah

In conclusion, what have we learned from all of this?

1) My mother needs to stop giving out my cell phone number.
2) Karma's a bitch.
3) And so is Richard.

Little slow on my photo editing, but here are belated pics from our St. Patty's day 10 hour bender. Unfortunately, my camera ran out of batteries early in the evening, which means you won't be able to experience our drunken limo ride into downtown D.C. at 8:30 PM -- it got messy.

Also, check out this video taken from my 15th floor balcony of a guy in a motorized wheelchair pulling a dude in a non-motorized wheelchair. Pure comedy.

Attention internet world: Please join me for a brief moment -- I’d like to be very serious with all of you.

I am well aware that throughout my World Wide Web tenure I’ve done some very inappropriate things – and at times, my behavior has been referred as “evil” and perhaps “subject to eternal damnation.” In light of this, and due largely to the massive amounts of recent hate mail from Arkansas basketball fans, I’ve become somewhat spiritually troubled. The other night, as I lay restlessly awake in bed, I began to wonder if my actions were truly a detriment to my karma?

Fear not my good people, for I have found the answer:

It is with great pleasure that I announce to you that I have become a legally ordained Reverend. No. I’m serious. Hilarious, I know. (It’s crazy what $30 and the internet can get you these days.)

Now, before I get hate mail from all you God-fearing men and women, consider for a moment just how badass this truly is.

The way I look at it, it’s a certified win-win situation. Not only has it given me some assurance that I won’t be sent to an everlasting stay in fiery Hell after my demise, but it’s also presented me with a lovely addition to my verbally abusive repertoire while out at the bars.

Drunken Whore: Hey, you’re kinda cute. Want to buy me a drink?
Me: Hey, you’re kinda fat. How about you waddle elsewhere?
Drunken Whore: Oh my god! You’re such a fucking asshole!
Me: Actually, no. I am a fucking Reverend. **Snap my fingers** And I just forgave myself for my sins, however God will not forgive you for being ugly.
Drunken Whore: **Stares blankly**
Me: God bless you my child.

Awesome, isn’t it? And as a brief side note: I can also legally perform marriages, baptisms, and funerals. Oh, and I can even start my own church… I’m thinking The Church of Latter Day Taints has a nice ring to it.

And if any of you would like to join my Holier-than-thou clergy, go to my friends at OpenOrdination.org for all your religious queries. Now if you’ll excuse me – I’ve got a 4 o’clock appointment with the local boy’s choir. Giddy up.

Behold, my Reverend documentation:

If you’re anything like me (really cool and good looking) then you’re more than pumped up for the start of this year’s March Madness. Yesterday, a friend of mine notified me of an online Arkansas basketball forum that dedicated an entire string to talking trash about my beloved Bucknell University – who they are set to play in the upcoming first round of the NCAA basketball tourney on Friday.

I’m not surprised by this whatsoever – considering shit-talking is the basis for any good sporting event. I tolerated the fact that their fans threw out inaccurate statistical figures, because after all, they're from Arkansas and most likely are severely inbred. I didn’t even mind when they decided to take a few cheap shots at the Bucknell student body by pulling pictures from random Bucknell student pages and publicly making fun of them. However, when they linked to a video of my good friend lighting his head on fire – and openly mocked his better judgment for doing so … well Arkansas, you’ve gone too far.

I tell you what, it’s amazing what sort of information one can obtain by creating a fabricated Facebook account of a moderately attractive female college student. It’s also amazing how desperate the members of the Arkansas basketball team are for accepting the “friendship” of this fabricated profile.

What have we learned?

Ronnie Brewer, Junior Guard: While he may be his team’s MVP on the basketball court, it looks as if he’s not reaping the benefits of this stardom. Case in point, he has to settle for fat chicks. Bro, pick a fold and dive in.

Preston Cranford, Sophomore Guard: Wow. Preston and his girlfriend, Alexis Olmstead, are made for each other. They both look like very ugly men.

Steven Hill, Sophomore Center: Not only does his girlfriend, Heather Boydston, have droopy tits that sag to about her belly-button, but she’s a wacko-insane Jesus freak. Check out this little excerpt from her Facebook profile:

“I love my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ more than anything on this earth! Without his love, patience and my personal relationship with Him, I wouldn't make it through the day.”

Yo Steven, looks like your woman is tossing J.C.’s salad and not giving you any love at all. I’d smack the bitch.

Charles Thomas, Sophomore Forward: This Arkansas big-boy is nicknamed the “Manimal.” However, judging from this picture, I think that name should be reserved for the hideous fatty-man-beast that he’s dancing with. Charles, you can do better man.

Sean McCurdy, Freshman Guard: Dates a stereotypical “butter face” named Toni Spillios. Her face is fucking haggard, but from this bikini shot, I’d maybe let her have sex with me… she'd have to wear a bag over her head though. And no eye contact.

Cyrus McGowan, Freshman Forward: Likes to play tennis with his girlfriend and make out in public. Cyrus, you make me sick.

Darian Townes, Sophomore Forward: Looked like a crack-baby when he was a toddler. Dates a busted chick named Christina Christiansen. And now resembles a partially retarded cowboy.

So there you have it Arkansas... next time you decide to pick on schools much smaller than you, perhaps you should consider that all your basketball players are Facebook whores.

"Pruno: an alcoholic beverage first produced by inmates of the California penal system. Pruno is made from oranges, sugar, and bread that ferments for a period of time ranging from three to seven days."

Before we begin this sophomoric journey of alcoholic stupidity, please take a moment to read this excerpt from an email my roommate John's mother wrote to him after hearing about our plan for home-brewed prison wine:

"I'm concerned not only with your level of drinking, but now also with the substances you are consuming. Please be careful, life is too precious to waste on a prison booze prank."

As it turns out, not only is John's mother concerned for his well-being, but she also happens to be a high school chemistry teacher. She went on to inform us that if certain chemical reactions in our Pruno preparation process were erroneously botched, we might go blind or possibly die from the resulting level of methanol.

Throwing caution to the wind, we dismissed this grim warning as nothing more than motherly anxiety and scientific witchcraft. I mean honestly, who ever heard of someone going blind from drinking booze?

I give to you: The Pruno Project: Boozin' on a Prison Budget.