When You Realize there’s No A/C in the Dorms, You’ve Officially Entered Orientation

Welcome home, well, more like a 4ft x 6ft cubicle that will house you and your roommate for the next year, but it’ll be the closest thing to home. Welcome to your new world; a world that is filled with new people, new classes, a new life, and a lot of new women J.  Before you can officially become a college kid, you have to take the mandatory two day tutorial that teaches you the in’s and out’s of the college life, and makes you realize just how small a dorm room is. For many, orientation is the place where it first hits you; I’m going to college.

I’ll be honest, I hadn’t thought about orientation what so ever. I didn’t even remember I was going to orientation till my Mom asked if I was packed the day before. I just blew her off and told her I was packed, but I hadn’t even looked at the packing list. It wasn’t until midnight that I decided to start packing, which really means it wasn’t until 12:30 am that I actually started packing, and so it really wasn’t until 1 am that I realized that I didn’t have anything I needed. So it wasn’t until 1:30 am that I went out to Meijer to get everything I needed. I wound up not going to bed until 2:30 am, and than had to wake up at 4:30 am for my flight; life is good.

The flight sucked. Nobody likes a 6:30 am flight to begin with, but usually you can deal with it if you’re heading to Florida on vacation. That wasn’t the case for me, I was getting on a plane to spend three days doing stupid mixer games and getting to live in a crappy dorm with no air conditioning.

It took me the entire plane ride and a solid two hour nap to get over my grumpiness, but once I got off the plane was low key excited to start my orientation, and of course a little bit nervous too.

When we got to the school, my Mom decided to act like the ultimate Jewish mother, and take pictures of literally everything. I’m not kidding you; she took pictures of the buildings, toilets, girls, etc. As soon as I could, I distanced myself from my parents and went to check into the dorm room where I’d be staying in for two nights. On the packing list they said to bring a fan, but they didn’t mention it would be 100 freaking degrees in the dorm and make you feel like you were in the Sahara Desert. I walked into the dorm and I felt like I was going to sweat to death, and I already have a problem with perspiration. This was going to be a long two days I thought to myself, and it hadn’t even begun yet.

After checking into my room, getting my things settled, and getting my mind ready for what was about to be two crazy days, I officially entered orientation. To say it was kind of scary would be a lie; it was very scary. Starting over isn’t easy for anyone, especially when you’ve become very close with your friends from high school. But immediately I started meeting people from all over the country, and everyone seemed cool and friendly. I think the weirdest part of meeting new people is telling them where I’m from, because no one’s been there, and they don’t realize how dope the 614 is.

After we had all settled in, the dean of students introduced us to the school and gave us an idea of all the things we’d be doing. The whole time this was going on, I couldn’t help but think to myself that I hadn’t seen any hot girls yet. I mean, I know it had only been 20 minutes, but still this wasn’t something I was expecting. I would be lying to you if I didn’t admit that the “hotness” factor of the girls I saw on my campus tour was a prime decision in my college selection process. Was this a sign of things to come?

Once the dean was done speaking, we got into groups and introduced ourselves to even more people. Finally, once we had gotten into large enough groups, we journeyed off into the city and got to meet the place we’re going to be calling home for the next four years.

While doing this activity, I made it my goal to sound as hipster as possible. Turns out, apparently you have to have a wallet that says “bad motherfu*ker” on it to be a hipster. That was the end of my attempt to be a hipster, but the activity was actually a lot of fun. Being social and meeting new people is actually a dope thing to do if everyone’s down to open up to other people.

The rest of the day we did more activities to get to know each other. After our last activity, we got to hang out the rest of the night in the dorm and chill with everyone. I knew this would be the best part of the day, simply because I went to Jew Camp for so many years and that was always the best time to chill, meet girls, get to know girls, and the rest is history. I probably got three hours of sleep that night, and lost five pounds of water weight because it was so hot in the basement of the dorm, but getting to know people in “real talk,” and not through mixers is a hell of a lot better and cooler if you ask me.

The next day was just as intensive as the first day. I made my schedule for next year, got to meet one of the seven thousand deans at the school, and got an idea of what my school life would be like. College schedules are probably the best part of getting a higher education (apologies to all the people out there with a higher education that want to kill me at this moment). Not having a class till noon is almost as exciting as the first time a fat kid gets his mouth on a Twinkie; it’s such a pleasure to the mind, that your brain has it’s own orgasm (all the fat kids out there don’t try and run from this, you know it’s true).

Finally, we had the “talk.” The talk that everyone knows is coming and doesn’t take seriously because it’s college, and we all think that part of the tuition our parents are paying for is the beer we’re going to drink, and the 15 pounds we’re going to gain. When we walked in there, they set up the stage to make it look like there was a party going down. The dean narrated the classic story of two girls going to a party alone, drinking way too much of some punch drink that probably has something bad in it, separating from each other, and winding up getting in a fight with five really really really big dudes who I wouldn’t wanna mess with, let alone two drunk girls. The whole time this was going down, I couldn’t help but notice the pong game happening in the background, and how bad they sucked. I would’ve schooled them if I was on the table, but that’s for another blog.

After we got the talk about partying, another dean talked to us about the beloved Fake IDs. After a 30-minute speech about not using fake ids, he took a huge shopping bag and dumped about 500 fake ids onto the floor. I won’t lie, I started paying attention to the speech again when I saw those puppies fly onto the floor. It was truly a glorious site to see, and one I’ll never forget. I know there was a Chip I.T. in there…

After two days full of activities, meeting new people, and beginning to understand the life of a college kid, orientation was coming to a close. But before we could officially end orientation, we had one final program.

To wrap up orientation, there was a final video that showed the parents everything we did in those two days. It had pictures and videos of kids talking about their favorite part of orientation. I had met the video guy during orientation and got to know him a little bit. When he was going around video taping stuff, he asked me to talk about my favorite part of orientation. I told him my favorite part of orientation of course, was when the dean threw out 500 fake id’s onto the ground and left them there during the presentation. And than when we left, no one ever picked them up! I told him I was kidding, and he said he would cut that part out of the video. I than gave him a thoughtful, smart-ass answer about how orientation is a great way to get to know people, and etc.

So now I’m sitting in between my parents watching this video. I’m looking at all these funny pictures, when all of the sudden I show up on the video. I had a pretty good idea that I was going to be in the video, but what I was told was going to be in the video, and what was actually in the video were two very different stories. When it cuts to me, there I am looking like a goofy s.o.b, and the only thing that comes out of mouth is this, “my favorite part of orientation was when the dean dropped like 500 fake ids onto the ground…and he never picked them up.” That was it. All I could think to myself was, “Fu*k.”

Orientation, although long and tiring, was a great wake up call. I know understand that I’m actually going to have to study in college, do my own laundry, and attempt to not gain weight. Even though I was hit with some very hard truths, to tell you I’m excited for college would be I lie; I am so excited to begin a new life, meet even more people, and begin my career as a journalist. Yes it was long, sometimes tedious, and made me realize that I will not get very much sleep in college, it also showed me the freedom and pleasures you get of being a college student. T-minus one month till I’m a college boy, and I can’t wait for it all to begin. Enjoy your last few weeks of summer, and prepare yourself for the greatest four years of your life.

Yours Truly,

Chip I.T.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, are deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure”

The Journey To a Six-Pack: Fairy-Tales of P90X

For the majority of my life, I’ve been fat. Not like chubby fat, like fat fat. Not one of those chubby fat kids that everyone thinks is cute and will eventually grow out of it: just fat. Like that kid who dreams about living with an unlimited supply of Twinkies. Yes, that was me

Once high school came around, I got myself together and lost 50 pounds. It was by far one of my greatest accomplishments (which isn’t saying very much because one of my other accomplishments was getting a “competitor” metal when I was on the swim team, and they only give those out to the person who comes in last place).

In my first blog, I devoted an entire entry to how I went from fat to skinny. And since today’s entry is about how I’m transforming from kinda skinny to a muscular, sexy looking monster, I will give you a one-sentence summary of how I lost 50 pounds. I stopped eating snacks, actually got my fat ass into a gym (oh boy was that ass fat), and realized that green colored foods actually taste good.

Fast forward four years later. I’m 18 years old now, just graduated from high school, and in the fall will be heading off to college. I’m not going to lie, I let myself slip…a lot…in those four years. At the end of my senior year, I realized that I looked like crap and it was time to get myself back into shape before I head off to college. I was already worried about the Freshman 15, and the unlimited supply of food, dorm cafeteria’s have. This didn’t just scare me, it freaked the hell out of me! You’re telling me there’s an unlimited supply of French fries and pizza and no one’s going to be there to tell my mind to stay away from all that amazing stuff? It was starting to give me nightmares, but more importantly starting to make my pants feel a little tighter around the waist.

I had made the decision that this summer I was going to “get jacked,” having no idea what that really meant, but it sounded cool and is always a good conversation starter with girls. The plan sounded great in my head, but put on paper it wasn’t even a plan; it was crap. I was working out, but I wasn’t getting anywhere because I had no game plan. Every time I went into the gym, I would just do whatever I thought would make me look “big,” not what actually gets you into good shape.

One day after I had come home from the gym, I was watching TV and happened to catch those infamous P90X commercials, the ones where they show you the persons amazing body transformation and we all think it’s a bunch of B.S., at least that’s what I thought. But than I went to a three-day internship where I really didn’t do anything. One day when I was at the internship, I was talking with this guy about working out and doing cross-fit, and he started telling me about his friend that did P90X and how great it worked for him. I was skeptical at first by the sound of this, but than I saw the Facebook pictures of this random guy, and that’s when my mouth dropped. Day 1 pictures didn’t look good, but they didn’t look that bad either. By day 30 he was considerably leaner and more toned. By day 60 he had a six-pack, and he was very toned. And by day 90 he looked like Jean-Claude Van Damme and Bruce Willis put together. And that’s the moment I decided I was going to drop all the B.S. that I was putting myself through, and attempt to do the unthinkable, P90X.

I came home that day and started hitting the books. I read the online reviews, the web discussion groups, and of course checked out the P90X Wikipedia page. After three hours of reading endless stories of how people literally got their “sexy back” by doing P90X, I decided it was my turn to get my “sexy back,” and went to the man who I consult with about financial matters, aka my father. I’ll be honest, I had no idea the discs alone cost $100, but I worked things over with pops and we decided that when he comes up for parent’s weekend, I’ll hook him up with a “friend” (Mom if you are reading this, I’m sorry. Business is business).

After about a week, P90X was finally on my doorsteps, ready to be unleashed. Unfortunately, I was a little slow to get myself together and I didn’t start for another week. To my bitter sadness, I found a 100-page booklet that was entitled, “The P90X Health Guide.” Great, so you have to actually eat healthy and do the workouts in order to get a six-pack? That was depressing news.

After all the bickering, gathering, and buying, I finally popped in the disc, and was about to begin my first P90X workout. It was weird at first, mostly because I had never really worked-out at my house before, and I wasn’t used to someone yelling at me from the TV screen, I usually get plenty of that first-hand. The workout was intense, to say the least. I was sweating like crazy, and it was never ending. I felt like every time I was done with doing a set of pushups I was on to a set of curls. After an hour of me moaning and groaning throughout the workout, I thought I was done. But just when I thought I was done, the worst of it hit me: Ab Ripper X. For those of you that don’t know, Ab Ripper X is the the mother of all P90X workouts, cause it’s the only thing people care about: abs. It’s an intense 15 minute abdominal workout that works not only your abs, but your core too. As you can imagine, that first day was an epic fail.

I wanted to quit. I wanted to go back to doing my usual thing at the gym, pretend like I’m doing something, drink my protein shake, and go back home. But I promised myself something better than that; I deserved better than that. And so I popped in the disc for day two, and killed myself doing things I’ve never done before because frankly, I didn’t think I needed to. But once again, I was proven wrong.

A week has gone by. I haven’t quit yet. Two weeks goes by, I’m still attempting to eat healthy. Three weeks goes by, I’m starting to see that first baby abdominal muscle that girls will salivate at when they see me hit the beach sometime soon. One month in, and hell, I’m still here baby.

I never thought I’d say it, but I’m still doing P90X. I’m on week six right now and enjoying every minute of it. Ya, I’ll admit I get tired of listening to Tony (the head trainer in the videos) yell super cheesy lines that make me feel like I’m three years old. Yes, all of the people are more flexible, stronger, and better looking than me. And yes, none of the women are hot (which just makes the videos even more depressing to watch).

But six weeks in, I’ve seen some major changes. For example, my back looks amazing! If you didn’t know I had a front side to my body, you would think I’m Channing Tatum, cause my back looks super toned! Before I did P90X, I was actually the most inflexible person in the world. Like legitimately my grandmother could reach down to the floor farther than I could. Now, I can actually touch my toes (low key I do it all the time at work just to show off to all the ladies), do some of the yoga moves (that’s another amazing workout I highly recommend to all my readers), and have a much better sense of balance.

I could talk all day about all of the physical things P90X has done for me, but it’s really the sense of mind that makes P90X so great. What I love so much about P90X is the motivation you get from watching the people in the video. They keep you focused, on task, and make you strive to do more. I’m only half way through the program and I feel like I can keep up with everyone in the video, and even out-do some of them in a few of the exercises.

I know college is still a month away, but I’ll be ready in every sense of the word. My goal this summer was to “get jacked.” Amazingly, that might actually happen.

If I were to end this blog now, I feel like it would end on the wrong note. This blog isn’t all about getting a six-pack or getting into good shape for the girls, it’s about being happy with who you are. The chances of me ending up with a six-pack by the end of P90X are highly unlikely. Regardless of the outcome, I am happy with who I see in the mirror. Sadly, I don’t look like Ryan Gosling, but the person I do see in the mirror is whom I want myself to see, who I want other people to see, and who I want to be. I can live with not having a six-pack or being super fit, but I can’t live without accepting my body, my personality, my looks, and everything else I have to offer to this fine world. So I leave you with this question, do you like who you see in the mirror?

Yours Truly,

Chip I.T.

“Everything I’m not, made me everything I am”

The World's Worst Employee

There comes the sad day in everyone’s life where we find out that our parents really don’t care about us, and make us get the two most dreaded words a high schooler has to say, a job.

For the first part of our existence, we are born to believe that this world is perfect. We can have whatever we want, eat whatever we want, and do whatever we want. Our minds are trained to think that this world we live in is almost as beautiful as Scarlett Johansson’s body. Sadly, it’s not.

To be completely honest, this world sucks. We have way too many fat people, way too many people that smoke cigarettes, and way too many people that don’t know how to live life sukka free; this is only the beginning of our problems.

I didn’t understand this because I live in an upper-middle class suburb where all of the world’s problems are bordered by white-fences, and the Starbucks is the “social spot” for 6^th graders. Hell, the McDonalds closes at 10pm. If that doesn’t paint the picture in your head…than I don’t think this blog is for you.

For the first 17 years of my life, I had been given everything I could’ve wanted: a great home, a great life, a great education, and a great future in my footsteps. I was living the high life that most 17 year olds would dream to have.

The summer going into my senior year, my parents finally realized that it was in my best interest to find out what this world is really like, and made me get a job. After applying at several places, I soon realized why the unemployment rate is over 8%. Who wants to flip hamburgers 40 hours a week or fold clothes all day?

Three weeks went by, and finally I got my first call for an interview. It wasn’t the best job around, but my parents said they would stop paying for my gas if I didn’t have a job by the start of the school year. That scared the hell out of me, because I drive an SUV that gets less than 10 miles per gallon, so I took the interview and ran with it.

I really had no idea what to expect when it came to the interview, but I was given the God given talent of being a great B.S.er. The manager asked me some questions about working as a team, and I rattled off some good answers about being on sports teams and always being supportive as the team benchwarmer. It wasn’t until the last question that I really had to think of something good to say. He asked me to name a situation where I was clutch, or came up big. I’ll be honest, there really hasn’t been a significant moment in my life when I’ve come up clutch. So out of my ass, I told the manager the story of how I had a walk-off walk to win my JV baseball game. He thought that was the greatest thing ever, apparently on the same level as the Joe Montana touchdown pass to Joe Taylor to win the Super Bowl. Truthfully, what really happened was a walked to load the bases, and the next batter struck out to end the game. I wouldn’t recommend lying in an interview, but no one ever said anything about stretching the truth. A week later I got the call, I was officially a pizza boy.

The first couple of weeks were real rough. Surprisingly, it is incredibly difficult to make a perfect sauce line, and apparently people really do care about how much extra sausage you put on their pizza. To make things even worse, I sucked at mopping, sweeping, and pretty much anything involving cleaning.

Amidst my struggles to master the pizza making business, I learned more than I could have ever imagined in those first few weeks. For one, I learned that to 95% of the world, making $7.70 an hour to provide a service…is hell. Second, I learned that it is possible for a 14 year old to conceive a child (hopefully you get where I’m going with that). Third, apparently mixing the regular cheese and low-fat cheese is a $500 dollar mess-up that ends in multiple customers complaining and my ass getting chewed out for a very very long time. I’ll never live that one down. My bad boss.

It took longer than expected, but managers finally stopped yelling at me everyday (but believe me it still happens). After a couple of months I could actually go one night without messing up an order, and mop the floor in less than one hour. Finally, I was starting to feel like I belonged in the fraternity of pizza makers.

Having never understood what it truly meant to “work,” having this job made me feel like I deserved something for once. Even though I couldn’t make a pizza to save my life, I was learning more about life than I could’ve ever imagined. It was empowering to know that every other Friday I was getting a $100 check signifying that I wasn’t good enough to get a pay raise, but good enough to not get fired.

As much as I had thought about being successful in life, the whole concept of being successful didn’t truly hit me until I cleaned the bathrooms for the first time. As I walked into the men’s bathroom to clean a stall filled with stuff you don’t wanna hear about, something hit me. For the first time in my life, I understood that in order to make it to the top, you truly have to start from the bottom. The people who make it to the top only make it there because they know what it’s like to start at the very bottom. Cleaning those bathrooms made me realize that if I’m willing to put in the work, follow my passion, and never give up, the sky is the limit. I know it sounds like a lot, especially all from cleaning toilets, but I was having an epiphany that night. Just go with it.

Wow. A year has gone by and they still haven’t fired me. I guess the either find me as a good source of comic relief, or maybe I actually am a productive member of the pizza making team. Meeting people with real problems, learning to take responsibility for your mistakes, and being a team player, those aren’t just things you learn when you work in a restaurant, retail store, or babysit; it’s what you learn in life. Having a job has taught not only suck up to your superiors when you want a pay raise or an extra day-off, but more importantly, hard work can lead to a better place in life. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m gonna miss being apart of the pizza business.

To all of you out there who dread waking up at 7am to work a minimum wage job, I want you to remember this. Yes, it may suck, but 20 years from now when you’re successful, happy, and working a job that gives you everything you’ve ever wanted, you’ll walk past a kid cleaning the bathrooms on your way out of work. As you walk past this kid, you’ll smile, remembering a young, ambitious, immature kid that cleaned those very same bathrooms once upon a time ago.

Yours Truly,

Chip I.T.

“You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain”

The Moment We All Cringe For: The Moment We Click On Our Roommates Facebook Page

When you graduate from High School, you feel like you know everything. You know how to lie to your parents about what time you came home from that party last night. You know how to sneak into the gym you don’t belong too so you can play basketball with your boys. And most importantly, you know just how much toilet paper you can put in your toilet without clogging it. There’s no denying it, you feel like a badass.

The final months of high school are only good for three things. One, seeing how much you can slack off, primarily to anger teachers who can do absolutely nothing about it. Second, doing the dumbest things possible to piss off the administration and “leave your mark” in your school’s history. And finally, finding a roommate for college.

Finding a roommate has always been something that has intrigued me. When I got into college, I immediately started meeting all these different people from all over the country. I joined those Facebook groups where everyone says the same damn thing all damn day.  Every so often, that really weird kid looking to do it big in college, posts something so inappropriate that he might as well just kill himself before he even leaves for college, cause he’s already committed social suicide.

For weeks I had been attempting to find someone suitable for my “needs.” I went to Jewish Summer Camp for most of my youth, so I know how to live with pretty much anyone and anything. I’ve lived with the fat kid who wakes you up at 2 o’clock in the morning to the sound of chips draining down his stomach. I’ve lived with the kid who doesn’t say anything, doesn’t eat anything, doesn’t do anything, and literally doesn’t even go to the bathroom. I’ve lived with the ladies man (I learned a lot that summer). I’ve lived with the douchebag kid who thinks he’s better than you at everything. And I’ve even lived with a kid that doesn’t speak English (it’s truly amazing how much you learn when your only communication is via your hands, face, and occasionally your feet).

After living with all these different people over the years at Jew Camp, I’ve come to the realization that it’s not my roommate’s issues that should be addressed, it’s my problems that need to be brought to the table. Living in my own room for last ten years has really spoiled me, and pretty much made me think that all of my personal tendencies are normal, and that’s the last thing from true.

So I guess this is the part where I pretty much read off to you all the things my roommate is going to have to suffer with, or I’m going to have to make ridiculous attempts to change.

Okay, well first off, if I haven’t already mentioned this a million times, I’m Jewish, and therefore my nose has unfixable issues that bother everyone except myself. I have a deviated septum, which is something I’m assuming most of you haven’t heard of, because it doesn’t exist. It’s just a term Jews made it up to compensate for their disturbingly messed up noses. An ears, nose, and throat doctor is a relatively new medical field that was only created to satisfy Jews who argued that they weren’t getting proper care from family doctors. Those family doctors were telling them the same thing I’m telling you, a deviated septum is a non-existent medical condition that just makes Jewish people feel special. The whole point of this long explanation into Jewish history is to make the point that I snore, and very loudly so my brother tells me. Apparently when I’m on my A game, I can snore in tune with the Dr. Dre song, Nuthin But a G Thang. That’s pretty dope if you ask me.

Now to address other issues of mine. When I was young, I was struggling to find good study methods. One day when I was in the 7^th grade, I couldn’t study for my math test. I thought to myself, maybe I’ll be able to focus more if I take off my shirt and hang free. I got a 100% on that test. For the rest of middle school, whenever I did my homework or studied, I was naked. I know that’s not the best environment for a fellow roommate, so no need to worry about me running around the dorm naked, but the chances of you walking into the room and seeing me without my shirt on in study mode is pretty high. And come finals week, well, things could get a little crazy. But I’ll always be respectful to your space and never cross into your threshold.

I’m a big music guy, especially rap music. My cousin introduced me to this concept of walking into your room with music already playing, genius idea (he was also the guy who introduced me to porn, but I won’t go any farther with that subject). Ever since than, whenever I leave my room, I pick a song that I know will fit my mood as soon as I walk in the door. Don’t worry dude, we can collaborate on song choices, just as long as it isn’t Justin Beiber or any song that has Niki Minaj in it for more than two minutes, she freaks me out after two minutes.

I think this might be a good time to tell you that I have a shoe fetish. Not sexually, but I love shoes. To me, shoes are a sex symbol. If I had to choose between hooking up with a really hot girl, or getting a fresh pair of kicks, I would really have to consider how hot this girl is. It’s probably not a good thing to admit that I would choose shoes over sex, but when in Rome...so I will devise a full proof plan to make sure that my shoes have an escape route, in case there is ever a fire in the dorm.

I love gum. Well, I love to chew on things, and the only way to keep me away from the super size bags of Cool Ranch Doritos, is Extra Spearmint gum. Everyone at my high school knew that I carried a full pack on me everyday, but whenever they asked, I told them the piece in my mouth was the last piece in the pack. But now that I’m heading off to college, I can’t be an asshole like that anymore, so my gum is your gum. But let it be said now that the gum on my desk, is my gum only. This is a very sensitive subject for me, because when my gum is gone, I resort to death.

I’m just going to be blunt on this one, I have tiny bladder. I’m not really sure where this problem originated, but if we go to the movies, I give you permission to slap me in the face if I order a large Diet Coke, heavy no ice, because I will pay the consequences later. So if you hear the door crack at 2 o’clock in the morning it’s probably because I drank a little too much, and I’m suffering from an overload in the tank. I promise I’m quick and quiet.

So at this point, whoever my roommate is, if you’re reading this, you’re probably trying every possible way to switch out of the room and have someone else suffer the pain of living with me. Sadly, this is about where my troubles end (I know right, I was just beginning to think there was no cure for all your problems).

Believe it or not, I’d like to think even amidst my many issues, I’m actually quite easy to live with. I’m cool with whatever you believe in, as long as you’re not racist or a Michigan fan. I don’t care if you like to stay up late, or go to bed early. I will always have complete respect for your belongings and personal feelings. I’ll even attempt to help you out with the ladies, if you really think I can help you. But just as a fair warning, my little brother comes to me for women advice quite often, and every time I give him advice, he always comes back with a bruise on his neck. It’s not the kind of bruise we guys want if you know what I mean. J

As I am getting closer and closer to actually beginning college, actually moving away from my home, and actually living with a roommate, I’m beginning to understand what it means to “grow-up.” Your parents tell you all the time, “this is what it’s like to be a grown-up”, or, “one day you’ll have to grow-up and when you do, you’ll realize that this isn’t as easy it looks.”

Growing-up sucks, not gonna lie. I like doing things my own way. Don’t get me wrong, I love walking into a room where clothes are on the floor, and everything’s exactly the way I want it to be. But part of growing up is learning to give up your wants for other people’s wants. Ya, it’s gonna be really hard to not study for my math final naked, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make to be a bro, and make my roommate feel like he’s at home too.

For those of you reading this that are in the same position I’m in, I’m not going to pretend like I know everything and say things are going to work out, cause they may not. But I’ll be as real with you as I can, I always here stories about how people came to college with a closed mind and didn’t open up to a different living style, and because of that were never willing to give their roommate a chance. Yes, I’m sure the first few weeks are going to be tough for everyone. It’s not going to be easy living in a room that’s half the size of yours now, and has twice as many people in it. But do yourself a favor; give you and your roommate(s) a chance. There have been many times in my life where I have felt uncomfortable in a new situation, but every time I have told myself to let go of the crap that’s in my head, things have always turned out for the best.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous to start a new life with someone I’ve never met before. But to be completely honest, I’m just as excited to start this new life because I know that I will learn more about myself, my life, and my future by walking the path less ridden. Sometimes, we just have to sit back, relax, and strap on our seatbelts, cause the rides gonna take us somewhere we never imagined. Good luck my friends.

Yours Truly,

Chip I.T.

“We do these things not because they are easy, but because they are hard.”

Welcome To the World of Chip I.T.

Being naturally talented at nothing is a skill few posses, and few aspire to have. It’s almost as great as being the guy who attempts to come up with philosophical tweets, that really just turns into 140 characters of crap that none of his 67 followers care to read.

For the first 18 years of my life, I have attempted to understand why I was placed in a body that has no athletic talent, given a mind that makes inappropriate comments way too often, and a hairline that gets larger everyday. What’s really sad about this whole situation, is even amidst my physical inabilities, I’m still almost as sexy as Ryan Gosling with that three-day-no-shave. J

Hi. My name is Chip I.T. (I know right, what a dope pen name). Since I am unable to provide you with my real name, and therefore you cannot stalk me on Facebook nor read my Twitter account, I’ll just give you a little sound bite of myself. I’m an 18-year-old kid from the suburbs of Columbus, Ohio. I’m white, Jewish (to all the Jewish girls out there, “sup”), un-athletic sports lover, comedian wanna be, aspiring rapper, and a freshman majoring in journalism. I’m fun, loving, and most of all, willing to share my funny, stupid, and life evolving stories with the rest of the world.

I’m sure you’re probably thinking to yourself, “this is just another blog that a kid is writing to get some fame and look all cool.” Well my friends, that is where the page turns and I tell you that you are VERY VERY VERY wrong. See, I’m not a rookie to the blog world. I’ve been around the block before, and I’ve seen what the power of a good blog can do to people.

Once upon a time, I went to go see a chick flick with a friend. While watching the movie, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “why the hell am I watching a chick flick with another dude? And why the hell am I watching a chick flick with a dude on a Saturday night?” Than it hit me, the world needs to know that there is absolutely nothing wrong with watching a chick flick, with another dude, on a Saturday night. When I came home from the movie that night, I ran to my computer and starting typing the beginning of something epic. What began as a three-page explanation of the purpose of this blog, to show the world that being yourself is what makes you great, became an explosion of laughter and love for friends, family, and people all over the world. The blog that I first brought to my friends at lunch soon become an epic sensation.

Things were going great, until I made I made a few mistakes, didn’t listen to people who are smarter than me, and let my ego get the best of me. I was forced to shut down the blog for good, thinking that I would never come back to something that I truly loved. While writing my first blog, I never understood how powerful words can really be; what you write can be just as powerful as what you say.

Senior year flew by. Before I knew it, I had graduated High School and was on my way to college. The more I thought about the blog, my life, and my interests, the more I realized that I was born to write, born to tell the world my stupid stories, and born to tell the world that being given nothing is better than being given everything. And so here I am, back on the word-press, doing what I love, and showing the world that “living life sukka free” is a lifestyle, not a Wiz Khalifa lyric. I finally understand what Peter Parker’s uncle meant when he said, “with great power, comes great responsibility.”

If someone were to ask me who I compare myself too, I would say I’m a mixture of Magic Johnson and Larry Bird put together, but than anyone smart enough would realize that’s just not humanly possibly to put into a body that can hardly bench 165 pounds and is struggling to do P90X (hell ya I’m doing P90X!). So my answer would be that I consider myself to be that guy who rose to the top, was living the dream, and made one mistake that cost him everything. But just when you thought he was done, he was given a second chance to redeem himself. With all the lessons learned, and the knowledge gained, he now understands what it truly takes to be great. Against all the odds, after years of struggling through the pitfalls of stardust, he see’s the light of day, and makes it to the top of the world once again.

To what meets the eye, I am simply just an average guy. On the surface, I am a hairy Jew who speaks his mind too much, is in love with Cool Ranch Doritos, and lacks the necessary skills to “seal the deal” with women. But when you look beneath the surface, you will find a young man who’s different. Ya, I may not be perfect, I may not be good-looking, and hell I may not even be a good writer. But I’m Chip I.T., and as long as that makes me different from the guy standing next to me with a really disgusting beard that makes my “neck-hair”/beard look amazing, I am perfectly happy with that.

For those of you who are still reading this, I invite you to a world where you will read things that will make you laugh till you cry, laugh till you crap your pants, and laugh until you realize that what I just said has a deeper meaning than originally thought. What I have to say, believe it or not, is actually quite fascinating, and of course entertaining as well.

This is the beginning of something epic, and I want you to be apart of it. So stop by every Tuesday night, cause I’ll guarantee you this, there will be nothing better than Chilling with Chip. Welcome to my world, the World of Chip I.T. Like Yogi Berra always says, “when there’s a fork in the road, take it.” 

Yours Truly,

Chip I.T.

“Stay thirsty my friends…”