The Bigger The Melons...

So, I was hangin’ out on Slant’s deck after suffering through one of the most anguishing Penn State football games in recent memory (yes, they won, but they looked like Temple football for a few quarters early, before they finally woke up). Slant pointed out that I have done so many stupid/moronic things in my life, that a successful sit-com or movie could easily be written from these happenings.

We brainstormed - it didn’t take long to come up with different ideas – I’ve done a lot of unexplainable things in my life – sometimes more than once. For instance, a funny story came up about my first week of college, as a Freshman. I went up to the first keg party of the season … I should back up here … Mont Alto is a dry town, so the students would have to take their childish beer-drinking up into the woods (I love childish). So, I went up to the party with a couple of my new college drinking cohorts, and I began talking to this really stunning blonde girl with huge knockers.

As the majority of you probably already know, I have never been, how do you say, smooth with the ladies. Little did I know that my lack of smoothness was directly proportional to the size of a woman’s “dirty pillows.” But, apparently, the booze that I was drinking made me at the very least bearable to this vixen. She even agreed to see me just a few days later.

To my astonishment, I was able to coax her to lay on my bed. This may have been the first time in the history of Grieb that such an occurrence happened. We began making out, and that is where my troubles began. A normal person would continue making out, and then slowly maneuvering his hands to eventually get to the glorious melons – and this is something I had game-planned for. However, large boobies apparently make my brain stop working (as this particular event that I will be explaining has happened on three separate occasions to women who were all very well endowed). Instead of getting into some sort of rhythm and continuing to make out, I pulled away from her lips, looked at her, gave her a crooked smile, and slowly reached my hand out to touch the mammoth breasts. For some reason, this was a turn-off to her (and to the other two unfortunate souls), and instead of having the opportunity to enjoy these bodacious ta-tas, I was ultimately left to my own devices (the way the script normally went).

PSU Case Study Program

If you went to Penn State, you'll probably know what the Case Study was. If not, you probably had a similar "program" at your school. In a nutshell, the Case Study was an event sponsored by the Rathskellar, probably in the running for nastiest/best bar at Penn State. The bar would open at around 9:00 a.m. on the last Saturday in March. People who entered the bar would buy a case of Rolling Rock ponies (7 oz. bottles), and would try to drink all of them througout the course of the day. The money that the bar collected would go to some charity, although I never found out which it was - not that it mattered, but it was nice to know that I was abusing my liver for a good cause.

It became a rather large event in the early 1990's, with people beginning to wait outside the bar soon after it closed the night before, vying for the right to buy the first case of "Rock." We generally got in line sometime around 6:00 a.m., which practically guaranteed us entrance to the Skellar with the first batch of people (the bar could only fit so many, so if you could not get into the bar in the first wave, you might have to wait a few more hours). Rolling Rock has never been a favorite of mine, as it seems to have the same effect on my insides as swallowing shards of glass would. But, I couldn't even consider drinking anything else during this event, because it was tradition.

Many great occurrences took place during Case Study - probably too many to mention (I am sure I will share individual ones at some point). One of the crowning achievements for me was being able to down two cases of Rolling Rock ponies during one of these (one in the morning, and one at night), and being a part of the record-breaking night, when 1,155 cases of Rolling Rock were sold.

Unfortunately, Graham Spanier, the Dean of Penn State, felt it would be best to work on shutting this event down, claiming that it gave Penn State a bad reputation. I believe he was eventually successful in his plan in castrating an event that students and alumni cherished (of course, money talks, so if the alumni were that upset about it, they coud've always stopped giving to the University). Ah, so is life, I guess.