From the depths of the Nexus dungeon, the Weatherhuman warns all ye who bike here: stay on your side of the roundabout or face the CREATURE OF ABYSMAL CONSEQUENCES AND SHIN INJURIES. The ‘human will find you. The ‘human will make you stay on your side of the roundabout. And if you walk in the damn skateboard lane, you’re done for.

Tomorrow’s Forecast: You will not stay on your side of the roundabout. You will walk in the damn skateboard lane. AND THE ‘HUMAN WILL NOM ON YOU FOR DINNER.

P.S. It was lovely to meet you.

The Weatherhuman doesn’t really understand why every coffee shop in IV has decided to hold atrociously inconvenient summer hours. Ze isn’t much of a coffee drinker in the first place, but if a ‘human wants a goddamn frothy strawberry drink at 8:30p.m. you better not make hir buy that shit in a little glass bottle from Hooteez Goodeez.

Tomorrow’s forecast: Smirnoff Ice is the new strawberries n creme. What? Delicious.

The Harry Potter release is making Thursday night at midnight quite magical. (Or is that Friday morning at midnight?) The quintessential fight between good and evil of our childhoods will culminate in a glorious approximately two-hour blitz of emotion. You’ll be able to find me in a theater somewhere with a tissue and the books clutched to my chest…all seven of them. So the weather will in fact be quite dreary because, you know, everyone dies. Oops! Spoiler! I just couldn’t resist.

Tomorrow’s forecast: Sunny, cloudy, I can’t tell. Every day changes here. I can’t tell if I live in Santa Barbara or fucking England. Bloody ’ell!

According to Urban Dictionary, Toot it and Boot it can mean two things:

1. “When a boy or a girl has a one night stand. To hit it and quit it. Freaky people who usually have sex with a lot of different people.”

For example: Jay Smoove: “man bro.. hp… she fine… did you Toot It & Boot It bro?”
Baby Woota: 3rd “yup bro I had too now she pregnant and shit!!”

2. “Farting and ducking out”

For example: “Right when i’m about to get out the elevator, i’mma just toot it & boot it.”

Tomorrow’s forecast:  Thousands of people have a crisis of identity. WHICH ONE DID YG MEAN?

Weather

How to tell you’re a freshman:

You take longer to lock your bike than to ride it. Anywhere.
You eat Freebirds for lunch.
You’re a film major.
You stand in the way of a beer pong match.
You take off your heels as soon as you get to I.V. from Anacapa.
You try to swipe your access card to get into the 24-hour room.
You tell everyone that Jack Johnson went to your school.
You ask where “the D.P.” is.
You follow that “beer before liquor” rule.

Tomorrow’s forecast:  The Others. They’re among us.

I’d like to preface your sojourn at the University of California, Santa Barbara with nine words that will best summarize your college experience: you think you know, but you have no idea. You know when Harry Potter gets that letter telling him he’s a wizard and finally the whole world makes sense to him? For you, UCSB means exactly the same thing. We’ll never ask you to explain why you are magnetically attracted to a keg, why swimsuits are your attire of choice or why, yes, you can study buzzed. We understand.

Wingardium Leviosa, bitch.

Tomorrow’s Forecast:

You mean this paper wasn’t delivered by owl? Well, that’s problematic.

The Weatherhuman is one more trip to the Study Hall away from a 50 Club membership. Now, is that a triumph or a sign of alcoholism? Either way, my extensive amount of bar tabs tends to speak to the latter. Barkeep? Another pitcher please. That essay I have due next week can wait.

Tomorrow’s Forecast: Hey everyone, it’s Dead Week next week. Papers creeping up? Finals on their way? At least you probably remembered to sign up for Fall classes, since the first pass probably just ended. Oops?

What is God’s greatest gift to man? (You know, other than the fact that He doesn’t exist?) The Hide Feed option on Facebook. Yes, you know… those friends of obligation online whose updates make you cringe and wish you were dead. I’m sorry, JP Primeau, but I don’t want to know your latest sex fetish. Get a clue, man. So now, with the nifty click of my mouse, poof! And they are none the wiser. Glory.

Tomorrow’s Forecast: Rain. Again. Oh, wait… you wanted something witty? Too bad.

Not even the Razzies can give Sandra Bullock a break
these days. Apparently, there’s only one “real” copy of their trophy (the ones distributed are $5 replicas). Poor Sandy didn’t realize this and took the real one home. They held off for a while, but now Razzie wants the trophy back. Hand it over, Bully, and nobody gets hurt…

Tomorrow’s Forecast: “I’ll pay for a new one, OK? Just leave me alone!” Ah, the celebrity anthem heard ’round the world.

So… IT’S MY BIRTHDAY! Good ol’ 4/20. You know, people handle pot in a lot of different ways. Some giggle a lot, many snack too much, a few just veg on the couch and watch “Oprah” reruns on Oxygen all day, and I even had one guy confess his undying love, but me? Oh, no. I do none of the above. Instead, I become the SUPERhuman. yes, the Supherhuman is my alternate identity, and my only weakness is California marijuana law. Challenge me if you dare.

Tomorrow’s Forecast: “Why does it reek of skunk?” “Sorry, Chancellor Yang. That’s not skunk.”

Respectable criminals have all but disappeared. I mean, I saw a kid steal a wallet out of some lady’s purse the other day. What kind of a world do we live in where we can’t steal from someone semi-deserving, like Mark Yudof, or that dumb cop who gives out tickets when you ‘board through Pardall Tunnel? It’s times like these that make a Weatherhuman want to dress up in a wetsuit and play superhero. Oooh oooh, or Robin Hood! Yeah, Robin Hood…

Tomorrow’s Forecast: The Nexus holds auditions for the ‘human’s merry men. Parties of all criminal status welcome.

Week 3: Shit gets tough. You’re sleeping less, working more, playing Assassinate the Professor in your head too much… what’s a poor Gaucho to do? Well, you could pull the ol’ heave ho off DP like a coward or you can actually face life. Go to sleep on time. Play Bejeweled Blitz less and do homework more. Get up at a reasonable hour and eat breakfast. You know, basically everything your high school counselor said to do to prepare for the SATs.

Tomorrow’s Forecast: Ah, fuck, who am I kidding? Just go to the beach and do some chillin’ like a villain. Who knows? Maybe homework will learn to do itself.

What does the name Steven Seagal bring to mind? B-list actor? Made-for-TV movies? Unrealistic portrayals of a butt-ugly man getting laid by every hot chick straight-to-VHS movies can come up with? Yes, yes, and *cringe* yes. Well, now you can add pervert. Allegedly, Seagal sexually harassed his assistant, who is a former model (see? Hot chick not realistic). More importantly, his reality show is halting production as a result. But… what will we do without “Steven Seagal: Lawman”? Why, God, why??

Tomorrow’s Forecast: OK, so we already knew he was a pervert. It’s part of his charm, really. Well, that and a face full of pockmarks. Yummy.

Well, it’s that time of year, when all those obnoxiously
overachieving folk vying for your vote on GOLD
are full-on soliciting for your attention via posters, flyers
and pure, face-to-face harassment. Normally, the
Weatherhuman doesn’t tolerate that crap; I just put
in my headphones and walk right through the fliershoving
crowd. But I’m sorry, it’s spring, all my money
was lost over break, and God help me, I WANT that
free food/T-shirt/OPP pencil. Bring. It. On.
Tomorrow’s Forecast: The ‘human doesn’t actually vote
for anyone who gave away free shit. If you wasted your
own money on this stuff, who knows what you’ll waste
my money on.

So Nintendo DS just came out with a game called “Mean Girls,” based on the 2004 Lindsay Lohan movie. And what do they do? They leave Lindsay Lohan out of the cover art. Yeah, it’s got he other three bitches, but no hot Lohan mess. Now, some may wonder, “Why, God, why?” I, on the other hand, wonder why not. If the game is lame (which it must be), it has to be rated E so that every kid, canary and dumbass can still buy it. Now, that won’t exactly work if you have a drug addict, anorexic, I’m-gay-this-week-because-I’m-too-cool-for-school moron on the cover, will it? Practicality, folks.

Tomorrow’s Forecast: Lindsay Lohan calls the Weatherhuman to clear something up: “I’m not anorexic, jerk.” Well, OK then, sparky, you got it. Now go sniff a line.