The 3rd Roast of Christmas: Caleb Ramsey

When you think of the phrase 'Lady's Man,' you might instantly jump to men like George Clooney, the Old Spice Guy, Ca$hlock, John Stamos, Joey from Friends... the list goes on and on. But when I hear the phrase 'Lady's Man,' only one name comes to my mind, and that is the one and only Caleb Ramsey. You may haven't heard of the guy. He rarely leaves his room these days, even when old friends come to hang out. But regardless of whether or not you've heard of this hunk of filet mignon, I assure you that no body pulls tail like Mr. Ramsey. If you don't believe me, Bailey Blackburn can tell you one or two... or three or four or five stories. Caleb basically ran England back in those days, but it wouldn't be until he left to conquer Ireland where his legend grew to unbelievable heights.

In a tiny little pub in Ireland, Caleb was just hanging out and havin' a good time. The music started to pick up a little bit, and it was obvious that now was the time for dancing. As a young, single man often does, Caleb was on the hunt that night. Little did he know that he would be landing a cougar. Yes, you heard correctly, a slightly dumpy, at least 40 year old woman, who probably had five children back at home. It was a low point in his epic career of action. But sometimes you have to pay the price for such dashing good looks and irresistible charm. With great power sometimes comes with a huge lapse in judgment.

Now this story alone was pretty bad, and Caleb thought that he had hit rock bottom. I definitely thought that he had hit rock bottom. Seriously, it was bad. But a few weeks later, Mr. Suave himself landed himself a ticket to watch some soccer team in Manchester play... the name escapes me. Fortunately for myself, I wasn't there, so I don't have this evening scarred into my brain forever. Caleb enjoyed the game immensely, and again decided that a night at the pubs was in order. Nothing wrong with a little celebration right?? The civilians of Manchester were certainly in a good mood, and Caleb was a bit taken aback by the sheer politeness of some of the guys he was hanging out with. I mean, they really liked him! Caleb was used to being popular, but this! He didn't have to buy a single thing that night. Everything was on his new found buds. Just when he thought his luck couldn't get any better, a few things started to seem a little off... Was it possible? No... surely not...uh oh...

Yep. Turns out all those friendly high fives and back rubs and lord know what else were sneaky attempts at seduction. Caleb walked right into the gay section of Manchester, and was just as successful with the men as he is with the women. Luckily he escaped without any regretful actions, but when I heard the story, I had to hand it to the guy... He can literally pull WHOEVER he wants.

Unfortunately Caleb was unavailable for comment. Between his girlfriend and literally nothing else, he couldn't spare a single minute. But I don't want Keslie to feel threatened by all of the humanity that wants a piece of this Colorado man. If anything Keslie, you should feel extremely confident about the future. Even when your a 40-year old cougar, he's still going to be ALL over you.

The 2nd Roast of Christmas: Amy "Keepin' it FrEsh" Robbins

What's up with it Lene-Town! The second roast is in, so let me see ya put ya handdddds up! Aight aight aight you already know, you already know how I do. Tonight we have the flyest thing to eva come outta East Texas, straight from Clutch City itself. It's H-Town's one and only AAAAAMMMMYYYY Robbbbiiinnnnssss!

Das right, we got the freshest thing on the market right here live in the 12 Roasts of Christmas, so I think it be only appropriate if we got a little background on Amy Robbins. Before Nikki Manaj ever shook all dat in her jeans, before MIA was flyin' high like paypuh, even before Danity Kane was show stoppin' err party she walked into, Amy was settin' the new standard for Miss New Booty. She brought it togetta and brought it back to everyone, and it all started in H-Town, naw meen.

But imma get real wichya real quick. Not everything was all lipsitck poppin' and boots wit da fur for Amy in the beginning. Raised in the ghetto, Amy had a lot of obstacles to ovacome. I know it's hard to believe, but I heard it from her own mouth, she said, "Don't be fooled by the rocks that I got." Being of half-black heritage, she was constantly bein' discriminated against by the white man, da odds were always stacked against her. She always had dat passion to drop beats like bombs, but she never knew if she would eva get out da ghetto. And then that magical night. It happened at the club, know what I'm sayin', right after 'Grind on Me' by Pretty Ricky dropped, there was an invuhtation fo' an open mike freestyle smackdown. She was scurred fasho, but somethin' beyond dis physical world pushed her onto dat stage. Before she knew what was happenin', she found herself starin' straight into the eyes of the lead singer for FrEsh fAm, the illest dirty south rap group to eva hit the streets of H-Town. At that moment... well I think Rihanna says it the best, "She found love in a hopeless place." They passed those awkward smiles, naw meen ;), and then the beat dropped. FrEsh fAm started droppin' lyrical hurricanes on da mike, spinnin' togetta' rhymes that aint EVA been heard befo'. He finished up his verses and dropped da mike at Amy's feet. The next few moments created a legend that aint eva been topped in H-Town. Amy took her mike and proceeded to crush the beat, movin to da music and shufflin' those feet! Her lines were so raw, the crowd was goin' out of its mind. When she finished, the club went up in cheers, hailing the clear winna of the most epic rap battle of da century. But for Amy, that was nothing compared to the love that formed with FrEsh fAm. A romance that makes Da Notebook look like a joonya high dance exploded, and with that Amy's career as the most hood chick in the world started, fueled by FrEsh fAm. Sadly it it came to an end, an end that inspired every soulful R&B song for the next few years. But You can still catch Amy droppin' those freestyles everynight in the Lene Town. Les give it up to Amy Robbins!

But fo' real yall, les give sum props to FrEsh fAm on FB. Go hit up thurr page: http://www.facebook.com/groups/198890820153483/

See yuh tomorruh,

Ca$hlock

The 1st Roast of Christmas: Lincoln Woods

Lincoln Woods, also known as Nathan 2.0, arrived in Abilene around a year ago. As I vacated my dorm room, there he was lined up to take my spot. From the word go, Lincoln just couldn't wait to introduce Lene-Town to all of his San Antonio swag. Hailing all the way from Boerne, Texas, It would be an understatement to say Lincoln ran that town like a god. One of his greatest attributes is his humility, and because of this he didn't even want to leave Boerne, stating that he didn't know what the poor city would do without him. After ensuring that a statue of himself was built to immortalize his legend, he finally turned away, sad, but excited about establishing himself in a new town.

From his body to his dance moves, you be hard pressed to deny Lincoln's incredible presence. If you haven't seen his breath-taking dance moves, you only have to observe him for a mere five seconds before you will undoubtedly witness awesome incarnate. Even LMFAO regards his shuffles with pure jealousy.

Art students last semester all had the privilege of viewing his chiseled body. Lincoln, not wanting to deprive anyone of his marble abs, quickly signed up to be a model. He didn't have to try too hard to gain this prestigious job: the art department practically begged him. And who could blame him? Sadly he chose not to take up his position this semester, stating that it was his fault for the alarming spike in failing grades in female art students. Apparently they just couldn't stop eye-goggling his pecs, and failed to turn in a single project. When asked about his, Lincoln shrugged his shoulders and said, "I-I-I work out."

Lincoln has made his presence known in many many other ways. Since everyone already thought he was the coolest and suavest man on campus, he decided to make himself more accessible by really taking control of the social world. Ever find yourself alone at your house? Don't worry, there's a good chance he'll just stroll on in uninvited to cheer you up! How convenient is that? You don't even have to ask him! The social network Twitter has also reaped the benefits of Mr. Lincoln Woods, and the ACU student body is very thankful that they can check twitter every two seconds for a new update on Lincoln's extraordinary life.

I must sadly end this on a more melancholy note. This year, it seemed as if every woman on campus had Lincoln on her Christmas list. I'm sad to break the news that Lincoln is no longer a bachelor, but is in an incredible relationship with Miss Laura Quile. Thankfully, if you haven't heard enough about it, you can simply follow him on twitter to learn all about it!

Until tomorrow,

Ca$hlock

Drew, You Dastardly Man

I think I'm finally getting back into the swing of things with this blog. My consistency has been atrocious, and I apologize. Not that anyone reads these or anything, but I like to believe that my blog is one of those blogs that earns two hundred grand a year through advertisements and a multitude of followers. I prefer this fantasy over the painful fact that Drew is probably my most avid follower. Talk about depressing. Where is Drew now-a-days anyway? South Africa? I read somewhere that over 50% of all males in South Africa have admitted to some sort of sexual assault, a staggering statistic. Drew may return a criminal, knowing his tendencies. I apologize; sexual assault is a terrible thing to joke about. My deepest condolences to those offended. But enough tangents; I always hated calculus anyways. I guess pretty much everyone back home is abroad somewhere. Drew is raising the statistic to 51% (again my deepest condolences) in South Africa, Trav is in Uganda (?), KY is in Brazil, I'm in Germany, and Emily and Claire will be with me tomorrow, Amara will be in New York in a week... Everyone's traveling! This year has been my first time to really 'travel.' Not that I needed to travel; one who is born in Texas has pretty much seen all anyone really needs to see. Nevertheless traveling across Western Europe has been an enlightening experience, an experience that has taught me quite a bit. It hasn't changed my life or anything, and do I ever hate it when people attribute a flight across the Atlantic as a 'life-changing' experience. Tangents again, I will stop. But I have had an excellent time country-hopping over here. I left France last Monday hearing French, woke up Tuesday to Italian, listened stupidly to whatever the heck version of German the Swiss speak, and today I am sitting in an internet café listening to Germany-German. I wish I could learn all of these languages. Sometimes when I just sit and listen, something that I've done quite a bit of, I almost think I can understand what's being said. This is silly, of course, because I don't even know how to say 'thank you' in German. I guess it's kind of an osmosis thing; I feel like I've been squeezed into all of these new cultures, and though I'm foreign to them, I'm still living and operating within them. It's a neat sensation; you should try it out some day. Anyways, this was more of an update than a real blog. I'm camping outside tonight! Booking hostels is for chumps.

A Bottle of Bordeaux

I haven't blogged in a long time. Deal with it. Tonight I am spending my last night in France. I've been visiting this wonderful country for a little over two weeks now. Cities such as Niort, La Rochelle, Blois, Marseille, and Clermont-Ferrand have all experienced my presence, but tonight, Lyon has the pleasure and honor of sending me away to my next adventure. France has been... excellent. I have a little rajun' cajun French blood running through my veins, and I've felt a desire for quite a while to explore the origins of some of my heritage. During my time here, I've seen some spectacular sites, breathtaking terrains, and a plethora of nationalities. But there has been bumps in the road, particularly the language barrier. I don't speak French. Je ne parle pas Française, désolé. My first couple of days were the roughest. The little city of Niort speaks about as much English as the adults from Charlie Brown. Ordering a slice of pizza was harder than convincing an ACU student to wait past the age of 20 to get married. Ok, it wasn't that hard, but you get the picture. To my utmost astonishment, I found myself today following rapid French conversations around a family dinner table. I cannot comprehend how I have managed to pick up so much French in such a short amount of time. Real talk, I have learned more French in two weeks than I learned Spanish in two years. It is incredible. But that's what happens when you listen to it for ten hours a day. I'm miles and miles away from mastering the language, obviously, but I'm astounded at how much I learned in such a short amount of time; in fact, I'm sad to leave because if I stayed longer, I could continue to learn French.

Besides the language, I've also enjoyed all of the history and scenery of France. The Chateau D'If in Marseille was an awesome experience. If 'Chateau D'If' doesn't ring any bells, then shame on you. I've also entered into some truly breath-taking cathedrals, read for hours in colorful gardens, and soaked up the sun on the beaches. And the food was okay, I guess ;)

But life in France is not always a walk in the park. To aid my fellow travelers, I've compiled my very own French survival guide. Who needs Rick Steves when you have me?

Nate's French Survival Guide

Survival Tip #1: The dreaded 'R.' It seems like every Romance language has that blasted trick that you have to grow up performing in order for it to be executed perfectly. Français is no exception. The 'R' is pronounced in the back of the throat, like your choking on Keith's burgers. The next time you feel a little apprehensive about attempting the French 'R,' just remember the last time you suffered from Bronchitis, and repeat the voracious noises that used to come out of your mouth then.

Survival Tip #2: Just eat it. Let's face it: France is known for having the best food in the world. Let's face it: You don't always know what your ordering in France. For the queasy stomach this can pose a problem. The good news is, even if your eating the ears and intestines of a pig, which I have, it's going to be the best meal you've ever had. So when in doubt, remember this catchphrase that I coined: "Ignorance is Bliss."

Survival Tip #3: We've all heard the stereotypes of the French people. They're rude, smelly, and proud. I can testify that none of these are true! Ok, maybe the gym in Clermont-Ferrand smelled like Franklin Middle School's locker room, but for everything else, I've found that you get what you give. Even in Paris, I had nothing but positive experiences.

Survival Tip #4: The French don't hate English. Yes, you read correctly. Let me explain: It is true that finding a soul who speaks English can be a challenge, especially in smaller French towns. One hears all kinds of reasons, for example, the French are too proud to speak English. This is false. The French like to pretend that they don't like English, kind of like Barton pretends to live in Abilene. It goes with their whole persona. In fact, the French LOVE speaking English, and they especially LOVE learning all of our ridiculous idioms. And I'm not being sarcastic.

Survival Tip #5: The Cigarette: This one is huge, so read carefully. Smoking cigarettes may be a common past time in America, but it's a full-contact sport in France. If you really want to experience the French culture, you have to have a cig in your mouth. What's that? You don't smoke? That's fine. You can pull a Will Smith: "Just bite it, it's for the look, I don't like it." Then your ready to get jiggy with it.

Survival Tip #6: Tahw Did Uoy Yas? If your confused, then you should be. So let's say that your hanging out with some hip young French people, and your trying to 'Be Cool.' Despite your heroic efforts though, you just can't succeed. The reason for your dismal failure is simple: Your not speaking the Inverse. As if French wasn't hard enough, there is a popular slang dialect called 'The Inverse,' where, you guessed it, they speak French backwards. Don't ask me why. I'm not making this up either. I about through the towel in on learning this French business when I heard about the inverse. So next time you find yourself shunned in a corner at a French party, just start saying words backwards. You'll be the coolest kid on the block in no time.

Survival Tip #7: Pronunciation. Pronouncing French words can be a daunting task. The trick to doing this is simple though. All you have to do is cut off the last 17 letters of a word, and you're pronouncing French. It makes sense, because now every words sounds exactly like the other. For instance, the words for 'water,' 'high,' and 'where,' all sound almost identical. Tired? Yah me too.

Survival Tip #8: Eat a snack. Because you won't be eating dinner until nine or ten. It's a far cry from the five o'clock rush to the Bean as soon as it opens. This definitely took time to get adjusted to. But usually the wait is well worth it, as the food is always magnifique.

Survival Tip #9: Don't stare at the wine like an idiot. At some point or another, you'll end up in a bougeoui restaurant, and your waiter is going to pour a little bit of wine into one glass. If your like my friends and I the first time this happened, we just kind of stared at the waiter, until we figured out that we were supposed to sample it before he poured the rest of the glasses. So when this happens, sip it, smile and say, "C'est bon."

Survival Tip #10: Pucker up. The French are an intimate people, and if you intend to make some French friends, then your going to have learn "Le Bis." Le Bis is the famous double European kiss. There's no getting around it. It's better to be prepared, because it just happens out of no where. This will save you the awkward moment of trying to disguise your handshake as a suave dance move as your new friend leans in for Le Bis. If you are in a large group going to meet another large group, I would suggest bringing some reading material. Greetings can take a long time, like convincing Drew that making the Highland Power-Points is not actually cool.

Well there you have it. I hope that you will find this helpful on your next trip to the land of Baguettes and Fromages.

Until next time.

P.S. Survival Tip #11: Don't let Tahiry, or any other Razafimanjato teach you French. They will just laugh at you.

Charged with a Grandeur

I feel calm and reflective right now. I think this post will be calm and reflective to match my mood. Today's been a good day. 'Good' isn't a very academic adjective, but I think it's the appropriate word for today. God made the world and it was good, and today was good. The weather is uncharacteristically mild with a little splash of sunlight, the house is quiet, I'm well rested, I'm in England, and Adam Young is playing through my speakers. Peace.
I've done a lot of activities here in Oxford and in the nearby cities; things that I've never experienced before, or at least never experienced in this unique style. Public transport has been one adventure--a battle might be a more appropriate term--that I've adjusted to, the ever-exciting pub life is always an opportunity to never miss, and just gazing open-jawed at the stunning architecture is inspiring. I've found my midnight snack equivalent to McDonalds: Ali's Kebab stand. Ali's serves kebabs which are not skewed surprisingly enough. This is probably obvious actually, but I've always associated kebabs with a metal spear through them. Ali's is only five minutes walking distance away, and I can get a whopping portion of chips and lamb kebab meat for £3.50. On the Hoof has become my Little Panda equivalent for a quick, cheap, delicious meal. They serve hot and toasty baguette sandwiches there for under £4. Mainly I 'cook' up pasta and rice and chicken with various sauces on top, or I let the master chef Hutton Brown cook for me.

If I had to pick my absolute favorite part about England though, I would have to say I've enjoyed the Gothic churches, namely St. Paul's Cathedral. St. Paul's is... astounding. No, astounding doesn't quite do it justice. Hutton said it the best:

"I could spend hours describing the intricately carved statues and moldings that permeated the towering structure. I could strain the English language to attempt to give you the experience of gazing up at murals so real and so poignant. I could search for hours for adjectives to adequately describe the magnitude of the structure, but even more shocking was the walls that were covered with beautiful paintings showing scenes of the Bible in an artistic perspective. One could sit and gaze for an endless amount of time and still miss a detail of a painting that made it all the more beautiful. I could attempt to string together a list of adjectives to describe the experience of sitting in an ancient, wooden chair and listening with eyes closed to the choir weaving melodies so flawlessly it seemed to come as natural as breathing. Sound echoed of the walls of the tower mixing songs of praise with glorious murals devoted to Christ welding both sound and sight into a worship experience that overwhelmed the senses. I could attempt to do all these things, but there is no way to describe the experience."


And that's really how it is. I can't really describe the beauty of this awesome feat and encompass the magnitude of its architecture. You have to see it to believe it. The building itself was a worship to God. Even if your like me and think that God isn't interested in big and expensive buildings, it's hard to escape the worship that reverberates off of the painted dome.



There was a strict no camera rule, so I had to be sneaky with this video. Sorry that it's not the best shot!

Blog on France coming soon

These Lights Will Inspire You

For the most part I consider myself a level-headed person, especially when the pressures on. In fact when the clock is ticking, that's when I'm in my prime because it's do or die time. I also consider myself to be a patient person--now before you object let me explain. By patient I mean that I'm not really in a hurry. Admittedly I am prone to agitation and frustration which I blame on the Thibodeaux's. Finally I like my sleep. Nay, I love my sleep. Mornings and I have never really seen eye to eye. Oddly enough I am prone to phases of insomnia where I hardly sleep at all. Now that you have this background, I would like to welcome you on board to the virtual ride of Nathan's trip to York. We woke up at 4:45 Friday morning so we could catch our 6:00 train out of Oxford to London. If this wasn't bad enough, I had a stint of insomnia the previous night so I had no sleep. My friends, I was one sleepy hombre. Anyways we make it to the train station and we go up to order our train tickets. A couple of weeks ago we all got return tickets plus and all-day underground pass to London for £12.50, so we were expecting the same today. I found out just how inexperienced I am with the rail system in Europe. When we went to London it was a Saturday and it wasn't at 'peak time.' This was a Friday, right smack in the middle of peak time. End of story was that we got one-way tickets with a one-way underground for the gutting price of £30. Ouch. But whatever. We were going to York and it was a cheap trip anyways.

Our confidence in getting to York quickly started to dwindle when we got on the train, as we watched the clock tick past 6, and then 6:15, and then 6:30. We had a bus to catch out of London to York at 8:15 and it takes over an hour to get to London, and then we had to find where the coaches left and all that jazz. And I had no sleep the night before. I was uncharacteristically pessimistic and characteristically pissed. How can a train already be delayed that early in the morning?? But finally we pulled out at 6:45 and arrived in London at 7:45. But by the time we got off the underground at King's Cross where the coaches took off, we had five minutes to figure out where the heck we were supposed to go and then actually physically get there. AHHHH. Things looked grim and it didn't help that the staff at King's Cross kept pointing to the trains and telling us that we had to get on. I'm practically yelling trying to explain that our tickets are for a bus and not a freakin' train! But since we weren't getting anywhere we went ahead and hopped on the appointed train that was heading for East Midland Parkway--with 30 seconds to spare. At this point I'm positive that we are not going anywhere close to York. But this story turned out to be a Comedy and there was a bus (delayed) to pick us up in East Midlands to take us to York. I just wish our ticket would have said that we had to take a 2 hour train ride in the middle of the trip!

York was excellent. We got an awesome hostel that was spotlessly clean, provided a complimentary yummy breakfast, and had nice staff. And nobody was raped.




It was interesting though. Since we had hardly slept the night before we were all exhausted, so we went to bed early around 9 o'clock, and it was just us four in the room. When I woke up in the morning, I rolled out of bed to find six strange men sleeping in the previously empty beds. I've never slept in a hostel so I was a bit taken aback, but I guess that's pretty normal.

The city was awesome. York used to be controlled by vikings. We visited a viking museum that had an actual ride built in that took you through an average day in the life of a viking. There were even specific smells during different scenes, like fish by the river and stew in the huts. We went to Evensong at York Minster Cathedral. Cathedrals never cease to mesmerize my brain, and York Minster was no exception.


Clifford's Tower was incredible too, and it gave an excellent view of the entire city center. Castles are just so majestic and mighty. We also got to walk around the original castle wall the encircles the city center! Legit.




York has tons of posters that advertise ghost tours at night. What sounded cool quickly lost its appeal when we saw about the seventieth unique ghost tour sign. However we did find one sign promoting a Viking Walk around York, and the tour guide was some published author. Eh, why not? It ended up being awesome. This nutter dressed like a Viking gave us an incredible tour of the spots in York where the Viking invasions and defeats took place. The guy really knew his stuff. Keith would have been proud to hear the story of one of his relatives who stood alone and defended a bridge from the Anglo-Saxons; cutting off 42 heads in the process.

That about sums up our trip! York's a sweet place. I wish I would have gotten an 'I Love York,' shirt. But yah York is definitely worth your time if you ever find yourself in the area!

Oh yah, I did promise: