Encino Man 2

After an lengthy stay on a series of couches our hero DAVE approaches his new home. He stands before a large Mediterranean style mansion on the foothills of the Santa Monica Mountains. After moving his MASSIVE BAG OF SHIT into an empty room save for a ratty mattress in the corner, he cracks a beer and goes to explore the grounds of his new abode. While fucking around the pool he discovers a trampoline in the woods behind him. Bored and longing for the sensation of his childhood back in the midwest he begins jumping up and down on the trampoline and trying out the tricks that he had mastered as a youth. Time has not been kind to our protagonist, as he attempts a backflip he rotates three quarters of a full rotation, hits his head on the steel rim and falls off plummeting down a steep hill. When his body comes to rest he realizes that he is at the base of a large ravine, but he notices a small cavern opening. As he brushes himself off and moves to investigate further he realizes that the small crack in the rock opens up to a MASSIVE CAVE. The cave contains a small stream that empties into another smaller room. It is in that room that DAVE discovers a rock structure that resembles a sarcophagus of sort. But upon closer inspection it is a GIANT BLOCK OF ICE containing that actor guy from Monkey Bone.

SMASH CUT TO: ROLL THE FUCKING OPENING CREDITS

I agree, it's not the most original thing I've ever written but Fraser could use the career boost, it's not like he's in that high of demand ever since Furry Vengeance. And honestly, if they can remake Point Break without Patrick Swayzee than nothing is sacred, so fuck you Samwise Gangee and Paulie Shore I'm remaking your stupid teen angst movie about high school losers and a Caveman as a buddy comedy with me and BF running around slaying valley girls and lording over West Hollywood clubs.

Ok, I'm not really writing a sequel and I don't even think it would be fun to hang out with Brendan Fraser, after he failed to close Liz Hurley in Bedazzled, I kinda lost interest in him anyway. That said, I do live in Encino now with two alternate life styled women and 2 30 year old guys...pretty random. But I have a pool, trampoline and ping pong table and they said they wouldn't be bothered if they found me passed out in the kitchen after a Friday night bender, so that's nice...and we don't cable, so I'll be forced to write more of my self-indulgent blogs and semi-autobiographical ruminations of how awesome college was, maybe I'll get famous after all.

So yeah, I kinda sorta live in the valley, but not really. I technically live on the north slope of the mountain. I think the fairest way to put it is "yes, I live west of the highway, but I'm in Bucktown." But fuck it, it's not like I'm a struggling actor in Burbank, although I do think that the fact that I work on a college campus is Benjamin Buttoning me a bit. I went to the USC tailgate last week and crushed between 40-50 beers including doing a keg stand at a Phi Psi tailgate. Yes, I was that guy (although not until I had exhausted all of my own booze)

"Hey man, I was a phi psi can I take a shot of that 4 dollar per handle vodka?"
"FUCK YA MAN!!!!"
"Can you also introduce me to all of those skinny girls dancing on the table in frat tanks and tell them that I am your 21 year old friend from UCLA...nevermind, I'll handle my own lies."

But honestly, tailgating is so great. I remember in college, I fucking hated it. I would DREAD home games for a litany of reasons. People would stay in Friday night, I would be cold and miserable Saturday mornings since IU was treacherous, god forbid we get an afternoon game. Then everyone would go home and die at like 4 o'clock and the weekend was over. (Sidenote: This didn't apply to Senior year when heroes like myself saved the day and had rocking after parties once the game started)
But that said, unless you were some sort of MacGuyver and good successfully broker a day shack after tailgate your cock was almost always locked down without the opportunity to take a drunken rando home on Friday or Saturday night. But it didn't really matter that much because whatever it's college people go out like 5 nights a week anyway.

BUT NOW...we work during the week. Friday comes around and it is a 48 hour spring break. Everyone can hold it together for 48 hours. Go to an event on Friday (a concert, a show, an art exhibit and bar afterward)

Saturday at 8am...It is Little 5, wake up at 5am and start drinking, make sure you are on campus by 10am...make sure you have lied about your age 30 times by noon, it helps if you have an old frat tee laying around from undergrad...great convo starter. (Oh, I'm visiting blah blah no strings attached hook up, see ya) The best part is they literally tailgate in their quad, it would be as if we got the entire IU Greek System in Dunn Meadow and had a rager. I'm not by any means complaining of our set up, it was much rowdier, but this next part is pretty money. Instead of going to the Kilroy's or insert your campus awesome bar here, they walk into a school building...to study? Fuck no...they have a bar in the basement called Traddies that rages for the rest of the day. I guess what I'm saying is that I still hate USC but they exceeded my opinion of them by lightyears...well done Trojans.

Anyway, from there you get your buddy's girlfriend to pick you up, go home take a nap by the pool and start re-pregaming around 9, then out until 2, then sleep til 8am Sunday and then if you are on the west coast you have NFL football starting almost immediately...so ya, limp to the liquor store, and start all over again.

But won't I be hungover on Monday morning if I do this every week? This isn't the blog for pussy ass bitches, go take an excedrin and sack up.

Next tailgate is this Saturday...and it's a night game, seriously hide your kids hide your wife, because this Angelino is coming strong.