Rain Check: Suns Out Guns Out

Spring time in Oxford, Ohio is usually associated with day drinking, Hawks Landing pool, and a significantly lower GPA than the fall semester. Unfortunately, the student body of Miami is too distracted by all of the light hearted outdoor activities (or in the case of spring 2011, being stuck indoors) to take notice of the monstrous creature roaming the streets. This beast creeps throughout Oxford without making a sound, I'm pretty sure no one has ever even seen the damn thing but there are some serious symptoms of someone who has fallen victim to none other than, the sleeve monster.

Don't scream, I know, it's horrifying. The sleeve monster preys upon the perfectly assembled t-shirts of gym rats and meat heads, leaving them helpless without anything more than a cutoff. It seems outrageous but there is no other logical explanation. No one would voluntarily strut around looking like a douche bag. At this point it's hard to say how many men (and female tools..you're included as well, don't feel discriminated against) have been assaulted already this year.

Through my personal observations it seems as though the cut-off-tee wearing jocktastic creatine craving victims stay in tight packs. They stomp through the rec weight room just looking to pick up the heaviest shit they can find so all can gaze upon their glorious muscles without any restrictions from the common construction of the modern day t-shirt sleeve.

So what now? This monster is ripping the sleeves clean off of people's arms, clearly this injustice must be stopped. If you, or anyone you know has any shirts laying around that appear to be missing not one, but two sleeves (and possibly the fabric that goes all the way down the side of the shirt..if this is the case just start a fire in your bedroom because it's a lost fucking cause) do everyone a favor and toss them right in the nearest trash can. There's nothing worse than walking around and spotting a male nipple poking itself out of the side of a mangled cut off, it makes me throw up in my mouth almost instantaneously.

It's hard to say which is more outrageous, the thought of some juice head taking the time to sit at home cutting the sleeves of his shirt or an actual monster living in Oxford that lives strictly off of sleeve fabric.

..Just to be clear A.C. Slater makes this shit look good, I bet that aluminum foil stool weighs at least 2.5 lbs so he’s workin hard to flex those pythons. Plus it’s hard to insult the guy on his “vintage” tank top when it’s tucked into that sweet pair of acid wash jeans hiked up to his belly button and secured with a fabric belt when he’s banging hoes like Kelly Kapowski and Jessie Spano. Regardless, I’m assuming you get the point, he looks like a fucking idiot.

This shit weather has really put the sleeve monster's meal opportunities on hold. But at this point folks, I wouldn’t say hell naw to a nice set of hairy mipples (man nipples) or even a pair of saggy bitch tits. Somewhere in between the flash flood warnings and funnel cloud sightings I’ve officially lost my damn mind. If it meant having sunshine and day drinking worthy weather for just a few days I would fucking pay someone to slap on a muscle tee right now. Even the echoing sounds of “Did you get your tickets to the gun show?” would be more appealing than the constant honking sounds blaring out of the oversized megaphones we have posted around town that do nothing more than make most of your girlfriends flip the fuck out and start talking incessantly about how you need to take the weather warnings more seriously while she's dragging a pre-made survival kit into the basement.

But, until mother nature decides to calm the fuck down slip on some Hunter boots or Sperry’s, whip out the old school high water khaki’s and your northface rain jacket because it’s nado season bitches and shit’s about to get weird.