HEY GUYZ!!!

Hey, it's yer old friend and com-paint-tree-ut Jake Sanders, posting under Ian's name.

Hello again, internets. It's been some time since I've glanced upon your soiled, impure face. O, how I've missed your vlogs about cats, torrents of ABBA's discography, and countless teenagers with identity crises. Ah, but you must be curious about my day. It begins the night before -

At 10:00, I was reading an essay on utilitarianism for my philosophy class at my desk. That is to say, I created a method of reading the essay in I read one sentence, then attempted to catch the fly circling above me with my hand. I'm a very focused student. My roommate Bobby asks me to go out to an undisclosed location off-campus. Before I go further, let the reader know this – when a student goes “off-campus”, their health – nay, their very life! - are at stake. Stray bullets act as a constant reminder of the campus' position as a pinnacle of white decadence and privilege in the otherwise down-and-out Bronx atmosphere. But at the time, I was pretty tired of reading about some guy who's smart enough to be taught in a university. So, to undisclosed location I went. And there, at an apartment belonging to someone I don't know, I played many a game of Goldeneye on the Nintendo 64, and drank many a Spanish cerveza. Reader, you'll find your reflexes much improved after consuming copious amounts of booze. I even beat the Egyptian level!

So, this morning I woke up at 8:30 with my head on the mattress. I must've missed the pillow when laying my head down the night before. This sleeping arrangement caused my neck to contort, causing it to place on the scale of pain slightly above the point of mild irritation, and slightly below mind-numbing excruciating soreness. Not only that, but my mouth tasted like a car. And it didn't taste like the “new car smell”. That would've been nice. It tasted more like if I were to lift up the hood, take off the engine belt, and give it a nice clean sweep with my tongue. But hey, I can't complain! I ate a bowl of corn flakes to start off the day.

I rushed out of the dorm to make it to the 9:00 philosophy class. I still was feeling the pains of the morning, but man, was it worth it. The prof is a 24 year old angel named Eleanor, who must have asked God very nicely if instead of flying about in heaven, she could instead teach dumbass college students about a subject that most of them don't give a shit about. Well, I think she makes ethics both interesting and dreamy. During the middle of the 3-hour class, I opened up a bag of trail mix, and dug in.

When I got back to the dorm, it was 12, and I, being poor, decided to make lunch myself. My roommates and I buy groceries instead of eating at the cafeteria, because it is a known fact that cafeteria food, upon entering your digestive fact, turns immediately into a substance resembling chocolate pudding which exits your body twenty minutes later in a foul and violent visit to the bathroom that I have deemed, “The Quickening”. So, I grabbed a tortilla, 2 eggs, some cheese, a frying pan, a spatula, and some vegetable oil and took the elevator downstairs to the basement, only to find... that the basement was locked, due to someone leaving the stove top on the night before. DAMN. So, I went back upstairs to my room and made myself the saddest cold cheese and salsa quesadilla that I've ever known.

At 1, I had to go to work at the radio station. My job, you ask? I am a marketing bitch. I do whatever the marketing director tells me to. Yesterday, I took off the return address labels from envelopes, and replaced them with the CORRECT labels, which have the same exact address on them, but include the WFUV logo, so that our members know which station they listen to by the brand that they see. Wow, that sounds really terrible when I say it out loud. Today, I started to edit a video of some cookie-cutter singer-songwriter with a cookie-cutter beard and cookie-cutter fedora playing a cookie-cutter song on his cookie-cutter acoustic guitar. I nearly died of the pure adrenaline high I got from work today.

After work ended at 5, I came back to the room, expecting delicious food. But there was no delicious food to be had! IN FACT, the refrigerator was empty. So, my roommate Chris and I decided to go off campus to one of the fine ethnically-themed (read: Black, Hispanic, Italian, general Asian) restaurants around the area. We ended up at Tino's Place (Italian), where I ordered a chicken cheese steak. It was “good”, but not the same “good” that you get in one of Philadelphia's many fine steak establishments, where the servers pour highly reactive and radioactive yellow cheese all over your sandwhich. This steak was more like a cutlet sandwhich, with a little provalone sprinkled on top. Whatever, I was hungry.

So, I finish off another sunny Bronx day with this blog entry and an episode of Seinfeld. George orders hair growth treatment from China. Elaine leaves a dirty message on Jerry's tape recorder. You know, just everyday normal kinda stuff. Happens all the time.