Sophomore Stories Part XX "How Muffin Got His Name"

From the outset, let me say that my college nickname that follows me to this day is not the greatest alias I have had in my life, probably not even in the top 5...but, it's the only one that has lingered for all these years...here is it's story.

Jim Pfieffer, a freshman architecture student lived on our infamous 5th floor, just a few doors down from me. His roommate was Jason the alcoholic.

Jim and I had a peripheral friendship. We saw each other in the hall, said hi. I knew him and he knew me.

Well, somewhere along the line, Jim got to pronouncing my name in a sing song type of manner. Up on Jaaaaaaahhhn....down on Daaaaaaaayle.

He said it that way once, and it stuck. Every time I saw him, it was Jaaaaaaahhhn Daaaaaaaayle.

Well, as most things go, it wasn't too bad...until Jim got bored...and decided that a two word expletive phrase worked as a great 'middle name.' I won't spell it out for you, but it rhymed with 'brother truckin'

So, now every time Jim sees me in the hall, it's "Jaaaaaaahhhn Brother Truckin Daaaaaaaayle."

And he wasn't quiet about it...and it kept up until one day someone was visiting me and Jim, out of respect for my guest, shortened it to 'Muffin'. Well that stupid contraction spread like wildfire. Before long, even my RA was calling me Muffin.

If it didn't sound like I was a pastry, maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal, but that's what the folks on the 5th floor called me, and still do.

Muffin

March Madness 2006 The Grass Isn't Greener Edition

In what was supposed to be a rebuilding year for the Jayhawks, they now find themselves champions of the Big 12 and the #4 seed in a winable Oakland region. Here now a list of those who thought they could do better than to play for Bill Self... vote for your 'biggest loser' (votes in parenthesis)

Omar Wilkes
Recruited by Roy Williams, Omar transferred to California-Berkeley where after sitting out a year, averaged 7.5 points a game for the number 7 seed in the Atlanta region. Of the players who transferred away from KU, he's in the best shape.




David Padgett (1)
Also recruited by Williams, David foolishly transferred to Louisville to play for Rick Pitino. David started 24 games this year averaging 11.8 points a game.
He's now gearing up to play in the NIT...oops, he injured his knee and won't be playing(update from Cade), too bad. Sounds major...Good luck, David.




Alex Galindo (1)
Alex left KU for Florida International University. He was required to sit out this year, so he's not playing at all this March. The Panthers finished 8-20 with a 4-10 record in the Sun Belt Conference before bowing out in the first round of the conference tournament. Best wishes, Alex!





Micah Downs
Micah left KU this January. He has enrolled at Gonzaga. We never really got to see how good this kid was, but I'm pretty sure he's not the next Adam Morrison. Maybe the next Luke Axtell. Micah is uneligible to play for the Zags until next January so he's not playing this March. Best of luck, Junior.






J.R. Giddens
J. R. went from being the top returning scorer for KU to being shown the door after instigating a bar fight in which he was stabbed in the leg. J. R. found a program in New Mexico. The Lobos finished 17-13 and an even 8-8 in the Mountain West Conference. Because he 'transferred' J. R. couldn't play this year so he's sitting at home with the rest of his teammates who are reeling from being left out of the NIT. Kenny Thomas is your standard, J.R., have at it.

Sophomore Stories Part XIX "Fire Alarm"

My sophomore year is when I was introduced to cigars. Being legally able to smoke suddenly hit several of us and we decided to give it a try.
While KU was a dry campus that banned alcohol, tobacco was still allowed outside. In the beginning, we would go down to the north stairwell and stand just outside and puff on our cigars...but it was very cold so the weak-hearted soon gave up this disgusting habit.
I on the other hand took to it quite nicely and fell in love with Swisher Sweets. My beloved roommate preferred that I not smoke in the room, so I always went outside...or hung out the window of our 5th floor room.
Well, one day I was sitting on our window sill, leaning out every so often to puff away. Meanwhile, I had our massive stereo blaring Dig Hay Zoos because they totally rock.
Suddenly James opens the door looks at me and says, "fire alarm dude." Until he opened the door, I had not heard it.
For those of you who may think that I'm hard of hearing, let me assure you I am not. The dorm fire alarm is LOUD. Extremely loud. It could be attributable to my ears tuning out a certain frequency I suppose, but more likely it was the 15 inch woofers.
So I grabbed my coat and went outside...again. I left the stereo on just for fun.

Sophomore Stories XVIII "Red Ox"

During my brief stint as a Theta Chi fraternity member, they held their annual "Red Ox" party. The frat color was red and when you write the capital Greek letters Theta Chi, it looks like OX...that's what the name means.
The Red Ox is/was a barn party which involved a barn, of which there are an abundance of in Kansas), a square dance caller, a bus charter and a large group of fraternity and sorority members...oh and alcohol.
Having no general interest in going to such a party, I delayed asking anyone (and by 'anyone' I was allowed to ask which was any member of a KU sorority) until a few days before when my pledge drill sergeant asked me about it. After a brief tirade, he told me he'd have someone set me up. Great...a blind date. That would certainly make the night more enjoyable. Jodi was her name and she was a member of Alpha Chi Omega. I made arrangements to pick her up to be at the frat house at 7pm.
Another frat boy, Ken, asked me repeatedly if I wanted him to buy me beer to bring to the Red Ox. I kept answering no and he kept persisting...finally he gave up.
At this point in my life, I was firmly entrenched in two different styles. One was a 'church' look that I donned on Sundays and when I needed to look nice. The other, which was for every other time, was the mid 90's grunge look. Flannel, torn jeans, etc. Nothing in my closet lent itself well to a square dancing party. I did borrow some boots from Dustin down the hall, but he happened to be the one student at KU whose feet were smaller than mine. In the end, I sported a flannel shirt, TUCKED IN, with jeans and brown hiking boots with no cowboy hat.
I picked up Jodi at her dorm (no immediate attraction) and we made our way over to the house where a large bus was waiting to take us to the mysterious barn. On the way over, I learned that Jodi's cousin and I sang in choir together in high school.
We arrived to blaring rock music and a well lit barn with plenty of straw and hay. Good thing I took allergy medication. I chatted with various members of the house and their dates while avoiding dancing, lucky for me noone was dancing at this point. But before you know it...
"Swing your parner round and do-si-do and turn round"
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Someone had given the mic to a square dance caller!!!
Well crap...I guess I gotta go dance now.
All in all, the dancing wasn't bad. My feet hurt in the small boots, but watching drunk people try and square dance made up for it. Although the part in the square dance where you turn and start weaving back and forth in a circle grabbing people's hands as you go by...well, I kept worrying that I would reach out to swing the next girl and she'd puke on me...never happened, thank goodness.
We take a break from the hillbilly aerobics and Jodi mentions that she'd like a beer. Now I'm thinking, 'great...I don't have any beer' so I just started looking around for some. Amazingly, I found no less than a dozen coolers filled with beer! So I just grabbed one and gave it to her. Well as the night wore on, the beer was disappearing (hence the bus transportation), and my date kept asking for it. I felt like telling her that there's plenty over there, but I kept helping myself and noone seemed to mind.
We danced another 'round' with West Virginia's version of Casey Kasem and finally it was time to go home...or at least back to the frat house...via the bus...with fifty drunk people.
Ah, what a bus ride that was...finally we make it back from Kansas' only barn to the frat house. I now have to drive a half-drunk stranger back to her dorm. It's 1am, I'm exhausted and have to get up for church at 7...so I drive Jodi home, promise to call her the next day to get her out of my car, and crash in my dorm room bringing a barn odor with me.

epilogue: A frat member I barely knew called me the next day wanting $10 for the beer I gave to Jodi, who I actually did call back and never saw or spoke to again...within a month, I had resigned my membership in Theta Chi.

Sophomore Stories Part XVII "5th Floor Barber"

Until my sophomore I had only cut my own hair once, when I was 8 years old and blamed it on my friend, Kevin. It did not meet with overwhelming praise from my parents and I developed a fear of cutting my hair, or anyone else's hair.

Ten years later, and Big John enters my life. Big John was about 6 feet 2 inches tall and weighed a svelt 250 or about twice as much as me. He was aiming to walk onto the KU football team as an offensive lineman. If that didn't work, he said he was going back to being a bouncer, a successful career path I have no doubt.

Big John had a crew cut. Practically shaved on the sides and back and shortly longer on top. The first week of school, I walked into the bathroom to find him using two mirrors and a loud, humming clipper to shear himself. He noticed me and immediately asked me to help him. Um...ok, was my response.

"Just take these clippers and just fade in between the longer hair and the shorter hair, so there's not a distinct line between them," Big John explained.

I responded, "Um, I've never used clippers before, and I don't want to mess it up." Especially on a very large and very strong behemoth man.

"It's easy. You can't mess it up," Big John encouraged.

"Yeah, I don't want to make it look bad," I weasled.

"Dude, it's just hair. It'll grow back," Big John pleaded.

"Ok, I'll give it a shot," I said as I reluctantly took his clippers and plotted my three quickest escape routes.

So I began just barely touching his hair, trying my best to keep a steady hand as I did my best to fade between the very short hair and the practically shaved off hair.

When I finished, he seemed surprisingly pleased. He thanked me and I went on my way.

About a week later, Big John came to my room and knocked on the door.

"Hey, can you help cut my hair again?"

"Um, yeah...I guess so," I replied.

So, we went down to the bathroom where I again took my life into my own hands and helped blur the line between very little hair and practically no hair.

It was this second time that another hallmate, Rich, walked in.

"Dude, could you cut my hair too?" he asked me.

Before I could answer, he took off and returned shortly in an old t-shirt. He sat down next to Big John to wait his turn.

Rich's hair was easy...typical of the time. Long on top and shaved on the sides and back.

Word caught on that there was a barber shop in our hallway bathroom, and a couple of weeks later, five guys showed up, including James, my roommate, for me to cut their hair. This went on semi-regularly the entire fall semester until Big John disappeared. We never heard where he and his military hairdo went.

In the meantime, I was growing my hair out long too and by the end of the school year, it was down past my chin. That summer, I bought a pair of clippers to keep it short on the sides and back...finally, on July 3, I shaved it all off. I got the same reaction from my parents as the first time.