PSA #1
A friendly tip on home dining:
Cranberry sauce, while a delicious and affordable garnish to any holiday meal, should not be used as a meal substitute. If there are extreme circumstances and you must eat a meal composed of six-month old jellied cranberry, it is generally considered ill-mannered to eat it directly from the can with an old spoon.Man, it's time to do some grocery shopping. Maybe I should spend more time doing that and less time creating meta-texts for this blog. I want to pick up some of that Trader Joe's rosemary bread--it's delectable.
~Andy
Disaster!
We have grave news to report. It would appear Zorbitron V did not take to kindly to our expose (see the post for Apr. 21), and has decided to retaliate toward our forward-thinking heroes. In a cruel twist of fate, ridiculous financial and administrative issues have kept Matt, Tim, and Fatz from reserving a room in ye olde Tropicana for next year--the protagonists of this particular epic seem to be out on their royal asses. The hunt for a house/apartment begins next weekend, and we will surely keep you informed.
However, the spirit of Tropicana will live on in our hearts and in our loins (whatever that means). Will the Tropicana Experience cease to be? By Jove, sir, I think not! Even the word Tropicana does not refer to a place, but to a state of mind. In its original, uh, Dutch*, Tropicana means "to have constructed a seafoam house of love in your hearts." And that we have already done, and that they cannot take away from us.
~Andy
*This is not true.
Top 5 Geological Pickup Lines
Tired of the same old pickup lines that produce the same disappointing results? Well, next time your at a bar, club, or even in the workplace, try one of these pickup lines. I guarantee unique results!
5) Hey baby, why don't we head back to my place and exfoliate?
4) Hey baby, why don't we make contact metamorphism with our tounges?
3) Hey baby, why don't we make like two techtonic plates and grind?
2) Hey baby, my muscles are harder than lithofied sediment.
1) Hey baby, I couldn't help but notice the spheroidal weathering of your buttox.
Tim
Breaking News: A Tropicana Exclusive
The following statement is true. For years our undercover investigators have been infiltrating Biola University, trying to figure out if the face it wears represents the true soul that lurks in the heart of the institution. What we have found may shock and disturb you.
Not to be viewed by children under the age of seventeen.
Biola Univeristy is run by a robot. Clyde Cook, Gary Miller, Carol Taylor--we may see these people as the head administration of the school, but they are mere holographic figureheads designed to put a human face on the cold, steel maw of Zorbitron V of the Braxis Nebula.
His methods? Insidious. Through the unhindered control of Biola's forms and regulations, he is in complete authority over all students and faculty. His purpose? Diabolical. Some may think that a robot like Zorbitron V would want to enslave the minds of the students and enforce his regime where conformity is law and free thought is punishable by death. This is not the case. Instead, he craves the chaos of disorder and the absolute ecstacy of confusion. He works at every turn to thwart the attempts of students to do normal, presumably simple administrative duties. Here are some actual recorded conversations that originated in his headquarters, the Metzger Building:
Do you need a transcript sent out? I'm sorry, you must fill out form X6729304#12. Which we are out of. Please come back later.
Oh, you need help with financial aid? Please submit a FAFSA form. You've already turned in three? I'm sorry, we don't have any on file. Have a nice day.
Too ridiculous to be believed? We thought so, too. But all doubts in our minds were shed when we intercepted this communique from Zorbitron V to all within his mind-hive:
Brothers and sisters in the Church of Disorder--we have just received word that Andrew McAlpine is trying to fill out his forms to study abroad next semester. It is imperative that he not be allowed to do so--at least not easily. Make sure that every form you give him is impossible to fill out, and make sure every department sends him to another department for approval. If we do this correctly, he will be so concerned about the details of his trip that he won't even enjoy his acceptance. Over and out, earth-bugs.
There you have it--a sad story for sad times. Keep watching, faithful viewers, as we undercover more about Zorbitron V and his evil plans. This is Samuel Nottaname, signing off.
~Andy
Shenanigans & Goings-On
I'm getting used to the screams of death that constantly spew from the television in the front room, which sort of bothers me. From my five-day Jade Empire binge--I just beat the game, but instead of pride I feel mostly a dark emptiness in my soul--to Fatz slaying zombies on Timesplitters to late-night viewings of Lethal Weapon, the testosterone level in this apartment is reaching dangerously high levels. Hopefully this will make up for Tim's ridiculously feminine body wash, my Dawson's Creek DVD collection, and Matt's... entire existence. Fatz is pretty externally manly, but he cries on the inside.
In other news, Matt just recently joined MySpace (extremely stupid) and has since been propositioned by about four billion girls (extremely not-stupid). In fact, his friend requests are so numerous he has been named the MySpace person of the day, or something of that nature. I continue to spend Saturday nights alone.
~Andy
Sanity in an insane world...
I'm Matt. Unlike the rest of the guys here, I go to class, have a job, and am trying to do somethign with my life. Life in the apartment is pretty ridiculous... from Fatz vaccuuming the stove to Tim spending thousands on heroclix, Andy being naked and me talking about shit that no one cares about. We have a lot of fun. Today, we found out we'll be spending another year in the seafoam pleasure palace we call Tropicana. Andy will be exchanged for Jon Brown (maybe) but will be back in our hearts soon. So join us for the ride that never ends, and make sure that you tune in everyday for a possible new post from Trop 212 (until we stop writing on this thing in like 3 weeks). Late.
~Matthew
The Future Looks Bright
Despite the fact that this blog was started pretty late in the game, it looks like the moniker won't have to change much, at least anytime soon. A spot has been secured in Tropicana for next year, so this little chronicle can continue--with minor roster changes. The starting lineup swaps me for Jon Brown--a sexy hunk of man--while I spend next fall in Martha's Vineyard studying at the Contemporary Music Center. Hurrah for off-campus programs. Hopefully I will continue posting and we can have a beautiful bi-coastal dialogue. And after fall, who knows what will happen.
Hopefully one of the other guys will get around to posting, or my web-addiction will start to look downright silly.
~Andy
The Beginning...
The stage is dark. Hushed whispers of anticipation float around the crowd. The curtain opens, and silence falls on the room. The lights awaken, casting an otherworldly glow on the stage. The setting is an ugly seafoam green building on the borders of Los Angeles County. Our heroes make their way to the front of the stage--the crowd gasps.
Tim, Matt, Andy, Fatz. The chosen four. Where will their wild adventures take them?
Only time will tell.Every great saga has a beginning, and I'd like to think that's what this is. Maybe it's more like an opportunity for you, the casual internet browser. You will be privileged enough to see the inner workings of Tropicana 212, and not just the rusty plumbing or asbestos-filled walls--you will get to witness the pain, strife, drama, love, lust, and general apathy of four quasi-normal university students.
Strap yourself in and prepare for the ride. Also, bring some toilet paper, because we're almost out.
~Andy
