You Think You Know, But You Have No Idea
Thursday March 24, 2005
11 a.m. I wake up in my room and make myself some breakfast. The athletics department has been riding my ass to lose some weight lately, so I only have half a dozen doughnuts and two boxes of Pop Tarts. Wash that down with a half-gallon of chocolate milk and I’m good to go.
12 p.m. I really don’t have much to do these days with basketball and football over. I mean I’m sure as hell not going to drag myself out to a fucking baseball game. I sit around and play some Madden for a couple hours. I like playing Madden because I get to root for a football team that can actually win a game.
1:30 p.m. I tried taking classes once, but no one could ever see over my giant head, so I gave up on it—I could really give a shit about World Civ anyways. These days I usually just stroll out of my room in Alumni’s sub-basement in the afternoon and make the rounds with the Athletics Department big shots. I’ve been trying to get a raise lately, but I haven’t had much luck. I keep telling them, “ I’m a D-I mascot making D-III money,” but it’s not sinking in. I really don’t know what they’re spending all their money on; it sure doesn’t seem like football recruiting.
2:30 p.m. I just got a call from Monty the Niagara purple eagle. He has been such a dick since they made the NCAA tournament and we didn’t. He says to me, “So, Vic how was the NIT, you know I heard that stands for Not In Tournament,” (no one ever said purple eagles were original). I told him, “I’d rather make it to the second round of the NIT than get knocked out in the first round of the NCAA tournament.” He didn’t believe me. I didn’t believe me either. Christ, I need a drink.
5:25 p.m. You’d be amazed how much booze it takes for a full-grown bull to get drunk. I used to go through a couple cases of Natty Ice a night, but since the switch to D-I it just wasn’t enough to kill the pain. Now I’ll usually mix up 15 or 16 Jack and Cokes and tear though bong hits all night long. I usually try to skip bong hits on nights before games.
One time I was super hung over for a football game and knocked over the cheerleaders while they were doing their human pyramid thing, Hofher was super pissed. After the game they called me into the Athletic Director’s office and threatened to get a new mascot if I didn’t stop drinking. I told them to try winning a game and I’d try to stop drinking. I explained to them that I was the biggest star this athletics program had, they’d never find another mascot of my caliber who’d put up with the shit I do, and that maybe they should worry a little more about scoring touchdowns and a little less about my drinking habits.
7:25 p.m. I’m watching the NCAA Tournament, but you know it’s just depressing. First we get screwed out of making the 64, and then I go and put a grand on Syracuse. What the fuck? I talked to the Orange Man before their game and he was all, “It’s a sure thing Vic, Vermont ain’t got shit on us.” Yeah, unfortunately it seems Vermont did have something on them—24 fucking turnovers! Sorry, I’ve been drinking for five hours and thinking about losing money when you’re drunk is never a good idea. I called the Orange Man after the game—he was wrecked on coke—and all he says to me is, “Do you think if I had sex with a moose, our kid would be a big orange moose, or a big furry ball with arms and legs?” That motherfucker has some issues, and he works at a school that wins championships.
11:45 p.m. Jessica Alba is on Leno; she is one hot piece of ass. People think it’s weird that I dig on human chicks, but let’s face it, there just aren’t that many female mascots. The real problem is that most girls just can’t handle certain bull-sized body parts, if you catch my drift. I did hook up with Anne Coulter after her debate with Janet Reno a couple weeks ago. I told her that her politics might be conservative, but she’s awful liberal when it comes to blow jobs.
People always think I have something going on with Victoria Bull. She’s my sister, people! I don’t know how many times I have to set that straight, we may be creepy looking, blue, bulls, but we’re not perverts. Speaking of “blue bulls” I got me some blue balls—both literally and figuratively—I’m gonna go smuggle one over the border and hit the sack.
2:17 a.m. I am getting so sick of Turner Battle calling me up in the middle of the night asking me for relationship advice. I mean, I appreciate all he did for the team, he gave me a reason to look forward to going to work again, but dude, if she said she “just wants to be friends,” you might as well give it up. Oh well, it’s all in a day’s work for UB’s biggest star.
