So I was talking to Mike tonight and he asked me what my goals were, and I said:
1) Get out of Indiana
2) Get married
3) Get a sailboat
4) Move to Europe.

Now obviously I’d like my career to fit in there somewhere (get me a job to get me out of Indiana, and eventually to Europe would be nice) but it’s not really a big deal to me.  I asked him the question back and he said “I don’t know, just something where I can make a lot of money.”  And I don’t blame him, or fault him, for saying that, but there’s more than just working to make money, etc.  

I don’t know what you’d call it.  Maybe it’s just the side of me from high school but a bit more matured…  I want to do things to make myself happy.  Purdue (especially the flight program) has tried to ingrain words like “professionalism” and “career-oriented” into my head, but that’s not what I want.  I’m going to be working the rest of my life, and I want it to be on my terms, and start when I want.   I stopped living on my own terms when I moved to Indiana, which might be why I despise it so much… 

But the thing is, I’m not here to impress anyone / be anyone’s friend, or even try to be nice.  If I’m “mean” to you, it’s one of two things: I’m just fucking around with you (true 9 times out of 10) and you can’t take a joke [note: for respect, throw it back at me], or I just truly despise you because you fit into some stereotypical group that I don’t like (Abercrombie metrosexual pink wearing douches.  Sorry Matt.)

Moral of story: don’t take yourself so fucking seriously.  It’s just life.  If it’s not fun, what are you doing here?  It might be blunt of me, but I don’t regret anything I do or say.  I said it, so at one point, I meant it, and that’s how it is.  Let’s not pussyfoot around the truth and pretend like it was a Freudian slip. 

Be dynamic.  Learn something.  Be able to keep a conversation.  Have a story to tell.

Okay, so I went to Tucson, as you all more than likely are aware of.

First: the football pics are up at http://web.ics.purdue.edu/~fordcr/football05

Okay, now the non-football pics and the stories.

Stories first, I guess. 
Flying to Tucson sat behind some bitch afraid to fly who kept talking to me about her son (I didn’t care), to my right was a 16 year old girl who started macking on me.  She said “Yeah, I’m 18″ and then I was reading something she was writing on her dad’s laptop and it said “I can’t wait until my birthday, I’m finally going to be 17.”  She wasn’t hittable anyway, but definitely not worth going to jail over. 
So anyway, I land in Tucson and call Huy and since he hates me he’s not waiting patiently at the airport.  I tell him I’m on the 2nd level.  20 minutes passes and Huy goes “Where are you?” and I’m still where I said I was, and he tells me he’s on the first floor.  Retard.  But I love him.  Grabbed some food and then went over to some broad named Ashley (I think?) who was an Arizona 8, aka an Indiana 55.  Definitely hittable.  So many hot ass bitches in that state.  It made me come to the following realizations: Indiana girls, you’re not worth any fucking effort at all.  Seriously.  I will patiently wait another year and a half, because even the hot Purdue girls are fives on the Arizona scale. [And see Matt's LJ for confirmation that I am not, in fact, exaggerating].
We leave the party and go back to Huy and Tony’s and chill in the jacuzzi for 5 fucking hours, from 2:30AM until 7:30 or so.  The sun was at full force when we had to get out because we were so pruny it was starting to hurt.  Seriously.
Slept for 10 minutes, then Huy asked if I wanted to go to McD’s for breakfast.  I decline.  Huy wakes me up again 10 minutes later, after returning from McD’s with the question “Hey Chris, you awake?” and I respond “Well, I am now Huy, asshole”.  Sleep for a little bit more and Huy’s loud mouth wakes me up for good.  Proceed to go to Fry’s and get BBQ stuff and grill some delicious fucking burgers.  Chill for a bit then head over to the stadium to get tickets for me and Matt, and the bitch working at the ticket office was borderline retarded, and Matt thought that caused us to be sitting way up in buttfuck.  Oh well, he moved anyway.

The game was more exciting than it needed to be.  U of A has no traditions and the crowd was the quietest 60,000 people I’ve ever seen, but whatever.  After the game I rubbed in that “my school was better than your school” to Leticia.  She was soooo amazingly jealous.  Then we all went to this dude Jason’s house and hung out for a bit, then attempted to go to another party  but we had gotten bonk directions.  Come back to Jason’s and play some drinking games, including one that Leticia blows goats at.  

Good story alert:

So we’re playing and this half Vietnamese/half Persian girl has joined us and Huy offers me some sort of pizza (pepperoni and sausage or something) and I decline, “Huy, I’m Jewish, I can’t eat that” and the bitch turns to me, and seriously goes, “Are you a fucking kike?  I hate fucking kikes” [note: I'm not Jewish].  Basically the response is, “Did you really just fucking say that shit?” and Matt lambasted the fuck out of her in a religious argument (we knew more about Islam than she did, and she was half muslim).  Straight up ig’nant, yo.  It’s a different story when you make fun of one of your friends [Asian jokes with Huy], but to use a racial slur and mean it against someone you just met?!!  Wow, you’re a close-minded bitch.  She couldn’t even give a reason for Muslims hating Jews.  We started throwing out anti-Muslim things at her to see how she liked it, and apparently she didn’t mind it.  Fucking ignorant.   So yeah, around 5 or so we went back to Huy’s, me and Huy chilled for a bit then bam, to the airport and back home.   Hell of a weekend.

Quotes of the weekend:
Matt: “That quote is going into my LiveJournal” [I don't remember what the original quote was, but I remembered saying that I'd quote him saying that]
Marcos, in the middle of Rhyme or Reason (drinking game, while trying to apparently rhyme something with “tennis”): Plantus
Ugh, I can’t remember any more, but there were a fuckload.

Pictures:
While driving to the airport, I got a nice shot of Chicago.  Notice it’s shitty overcast.

Scenic Southwestern views:

And a pic of the inside of Huy and Tony’s house:

I got a nice picture of Huy’s alien head…

And Huy smiling like a third grader:

And Matt and Tony playing Foozball, with Huy being a bitch in the back

Look at the concentration on Matt’s face:

Matt is such a little bandwagon fan:

And here’s Leticia in the car:

And finally, scenic downtown Tucson:

http://web.ics.purdue.edu/~fordcr/football05

Pics from the Akron game.  Arizona pics will also be up there next week sometime.

Update: It’s 12:16 and the guy called me at 9 to say he wouldn’t be in Lafayette until 11.  He never called since then.

Fuck this shit.  Give me my fucking wallet back.  I have $5 damn dollars in there.  I need my fucking drivers license but more important I need my fucking pilot licenses and my medical certificate.   People are worthless, seriously.

Hookah Bar wouldn’t let me in without ID. So everyone else stayed and I left. Lame.

And as I’m writing this, he calls.  Off to pick up my wallet, hopefully.

Okay, so I’m the talk of the town today because I left my wallet on Taxiway Alpha at Crawfordsville (an airport 20 miles south of where I live, for you non-Purdue people).   Here’s how it happened….

1) Covered DG with a business card taken from my wallet
2) Sat my wallet on my lap
3) Did a landing at Crawfordsville
4) The nose strut falls down, felt like it completely collapsed
5) I get out of the plane with the engine running (Shhhh…) and look at the strut, it’s fine…
6) Wallet lands on the black “walk-on” part of the wing, so it’s camoflagued
7) I don’t notice and get back in the plane We take off and my wallet falls off the wing.

So I called Crawfordsville Aviation and the guy found it, I gave him the $5 in my wallet and I’m meeting some dude at Starbucks tonight at 9 to get my wallet.

I’m really really not as stupid as you guys think, I promise.