Category Archives: Nightlife

Student Didn’t Get Laid This Weekend, Confused As To Why

Jonathon Myers, a freshman communication major, felt a severe blow to his confidence over the course of Labor Day weekend, due to what he believes is UB’s general female population’s complete and utter lack of taste.

Myers – standing at six foot two, with a stocky build, brunette hair and mountain of acne – spent the majority of his extended weekend visiting bars on Main Street, usually Northside, in the hopes of wooing a fellow freshman girl with his “charm, wit and debonairdemeanor.”

Unfortunately, Myers was unsuccessful.

“Oh hey girl, nice dress, I bet it would look even better on my dorm room floor. You know, because we’re going to have sex tonight,” Myers said. “That’s my go-to pickup line, and it didn’t even work. What’s with these chicks?”

Myers’ plan of attack, according to him, “was nothing short of miraculous,” and his pick-up technique: “innovative and fool proof.”

He would wait until a girl separated from her friends, he would “sweep in for the kill” and then he would hit her with a line like, “Oh hey girl, I really like that shirt you’re wearing. The see-through fabric really lets me see your tits.”

The girl he approached promptly left his sight, and left Myers broken hearted and covered in beer.

“One girl told me that if I ever came near her again she would call the police,” Myers said, shaking his head. “Another girl said that she was going to buy a Taser just in case she ever saw me, or another guy like me, again. What the hell? Seriously. What. The. Hell.”

Myers insists that back in high school, girls flocked to him by the dozens and he had to beat them off with a stick. No high school friends could be reached for conformation or denial of his claims.

“In high school, I’d say: ‘Oh hey girl, I might not be the best looking guy, but I’m the only guy talking to you.’ They’d eat that s**t up,” Myers said. “Girls like when you’re mean to them, and they like when you’re straight up. I got my first Old Fashionedbecause of that line.”

At Northside on Saturday night, Myers honed in on one girl in particular. He described her as being not too attractive, but still pretty enough with the right amount of alcohol – which he had his fill of. She was with prettier friends, according to Myers, so he circled the group (as best he could on the dance floor filled with drunk and gyrating teenagers), until he finally slipped behind her and started grinding to Cherr Lloyd’s “Want U Back.”

Then he screamed in her ear, “Oh hey girl, you totally look like this girl I saw in a video last night. I hope you’re as good at bending and banging as her.”

Although Myers said the girl seemed to be happy about the “compliment,” the girl – Kelly Ryan, a freshman undecided major – clarified she did not hear him correctly.

“That’s what he said? I thought he said I looked like Kim Kardashian,” Ryan said. “I’m never drinking tequila again.”

The two continued clumsily swaying back and forth on the sweat-filled and smelly dance floor, until Myers noticed his partner looked thirsty. He pulled her by the hand toward the bar.

“Want to know what that douche bag said to me?” Ryan said. “He said, ‘Oh hey girl, I’ll buy you a drink but I’m gonna need a blowjob later.’ Who in their right mind says that to someone?”

Ryan promptly kicked Myers in the shin and returned to her friends, while Myers was left rolling around on the alcohol-soaked floor. Many didn’t notice him on the floor, and one girl (wearing incredibly sharp high heels, Myers said) apologized when she accidently stepped on his groin on her way to the bar.

Myers, seeing his chance replied: “Oh hey girl, I’d love you to take you out to dinner. Do you like dining hall food?”

When the girl looked at him incredulously, he went on, “No? Damn you have expensive taste. All right, what about Just Pizza?”

Myers went home from the weekend alone, due to what he considered every single girl he’s encountered having “no taste, no sense and no chance with him ever again.

PUBLISHED 9/10 IN THE SPECTRUM.

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Texting While Intoxicated Discovered To Be Cause Of Crippling Embarrassment For Student

A plague has been sweeping college campuses for many years now, causing tragedy to strike unsuspecting students. Sometimes it happens instantly, sometimes gradually. No matter how it starts, the end result is always the same: incapacitating embarrassment.

Jenni Mars, senior nursing major, has suffered from the affliction for years. Recently it has begun to negatively impact her life to the point where she often admits she wants to bury her head in the sand or get tied to four horses and “make ‘em start running, like in the olden times.”

“I don’t know what triggers it (other than the alcohol, of course). It used to be just a small problem – an illegible message to my roommate here, a poorly worded and poorly thought-out text to a boy there. If only that was still the case,” Mars said with fingers hovering over her phone’s QWERTY keyboard. “Now, I wake up with an inbox of drunk texts I have no recollection of sending. I just want it to stop.”

Mars suffers from a serious case of drunk texting. She can no longer control it, and there doesn’t seem to be any cure.

Between sobs and sips from her Rolling Rock, Mars shared some the messages she’s sent under the influence. To her co-worker she wrote: “I’m in lovee with a bartender at a gay bar. But he’s not gay so its okay.”

Later, she followed up on the encounter to the same co-worker with: “My life is ruined. He has a girlfriend. WAH!!!!!!!!!”

Twenty minutes and one whiskey sour later, Mars worried over his lack of response and proceeded to write: “It not fair. Aliyh tha bois I like havge girlfirends al;hready. Life sucks =( =( =(!.”

“Yeah, I like to keep her texts and then show them to her the next morning. I think it’s a great way for her to learn – and embarrassing her is always guaranteed to be hilarious,” her co-worker commented.

Doctors are perplexed and growing nervous about the situation.

“I told her that she could simply stop drinking. I mean, that would be one way to stop the problem. But Jenni just won’t listen,” Doctor Keller, Mars’s pediatrician sighed. “I don’t see how this could end any other way but poorly. I told her she’s probably going to end up sending something that results in the loss of a job, of a friendship, or – at the very least – a casual acquaintance. There’s really nothing more a doctor can do.”

Mars has tried everything (except not drinking) to stop belligerently texting people – she’s left her phone at home, turned it off but kept it on her “in case of emergencies.” She even went so far as to give it to a friend to keep an eye on. No matter what scenario, Mars found that within 15 minutes her palms would be sweaty, her hands would shake, and visions of her phone would dance through her mind.

“I would definitely say it’s causing a rift in our relationship,” said Stephanie Bronson. “One time, she asked me to hold on to her phone so that she didn’t send any texts. I agreed, not knowing the extent of her problem. That night, I ended up with a black eye and a chunk of my hair missing.”

When the clocked struck 2 a.m., Mars’s fingers “started itching” from not touching her phone in two hours. “She looked like someone took her kitten or something. I told her that she couldn’t have her phone, then she told me she needed to talk to her mom about something really important. But earlier in the night, she told me that she’s probably going to make up a lie, so I knew not to trust her. In hindsight, I should have just given her the damn phone,” Bronson said as she stroked her bald spot.

After an intense scuffle between the two friends, which included hair-pulling, face scratching, an accidental elbow to the face, and some deliberate name calling, Mars retrieved the cell phone and continued her socially – and mentally – dangerous habit.

“She called me a cum-guzzling, Santorum-loving twat sniffer. I didn’t appreciate that,” Bronson stated, shaking her head.

The entire fight ensued so that Mars could send out this message to a friend of hers: “oamdg thakt kid thadft you hoked up with lasdf t weekdnfe is totalky adkt the bar talking to that slut your almosttd foiught@!!”

Although the two girls are still friends, Bronson is at a loss on how she can help her friend with the debilitating, life-crushing, (and completely preventable) problem.

“Stop drinking?” Mars laughed. “That’s just silly.”

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Student Crushed When Night of Passion With Stranger Does Not Result in Long-Term Relationship

Jennifer Taylor, sophomore communications major, was shocked, crushed, and downright befuddled when the man she had just met at a bar, and then proceeded to go home with, made it clear that he just wasn’t that into her.

“I thought we really had something special,” Taylor explained through tear soaked eyes as the stream of makeup oozed down her face. “Like, he told me I was the hottest, smartest, coolest, girl he’d ever met. What changed? What changed?”

The two met at The Steer, a popular bar for UB students. It was luck and Taylor’s extremely tiny bladder that brought the pair together when Ryan Burns, senior communications major, offered Taylor a hand after she fell onto the vomit and pee soaked floor.

“He was like, my knight in shining armor, but in jeans and a blowout. He was my knight in jeans and a blowout,” Taylor looked back fondly. “He grabbed my ass – and my boobs too I think – during my fall but it was totally an accident.”

Burns and Taylor then pushed past the throngs of stumbling and gyrating students on the “dance floor” and made their way to the bar. Taylor was amazed at all of the things the two had in common.

When she said that she loved the Twilight movies, Burns responded that J.K Rowling was his favorite author. When she said that she loved watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians, he told her that he had it Tivoed. “We were perfect together, just perfect,” Taylor wailed.

As the night drew to a close, Burns invited Taylor to his house in the Heights and because of their “deep connection” she agreed. After a night of passionate love-making, Taylor prepared to spend the night but Burns informed her that he was prone to night terrors, so she wouldn’t be able to stay.

“He was always so thoughtful. He said he didn’t want to lash out and hit me in his sleep,” Taylor remembered.

Taylor gave Burns her number and then walked alone – shoeless and panty-less (as she assumed she would get them the next time) – to the bus stop. “It was worth waiting in the frigid cold surrounded by girls throwing up in bushes and guys trying to see down my shirt,” Taylor said. “It was just such a magical evening.”

Or so she thought. After not receiving a phone call, a text message, or even a Facebook friend request, Taylor chalked the suspicious behavior up to Burns being busy. It wasn’t until the next weekend, when she saw him making out with a “cheap, ugly, fat bitch” that Taylor realized her love was not reciprocated. Stunned and too wounded for words, she walked up to the first guy she saw and proceeded to stick her tongue down his throat.

“He promised we’d watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians together!” Taylor yelled.

When questioned about the ordeal, Burns commented: “you mean the chick with the nice ass? I thought her name was Mariah.”