Chef Jacob Balshin cooks a burger for the opportunity to win $1 million!
Sam uses Jacob’s toothbrush.
The official anthem to the best salsa product in existence: Mrs. Renfro’s Gourmet Habanero Salsa.
Like COPS but with Robbers.
Well today I finished University, which means all those long years and late nights hardly working have finally paid off into a lifetime of insurmountable debt! Four years ago I left home to go to the University of Guelph to get my degree in Philosophy, with the dream of one day going to law school, and now that I am finished University, and have gotten my three year degree in General Arts, I completely forget how it feels to have dreams. Growing up they always said dream big, and clearly I did that, thanks they. You’re probably wondering who I just thanked? So let me avert your attention without you noticing by letting you know that a degree in General Arts is the worst possible degree that they offer at the University I attended. Like the biggest possible piece of shit they offer. So here’s to the graduating class of 2015, you did it, and I was kind of present while you were doing it.
Truthfully I will forever be indebted to the University of Guelph for the time I spent there, not like in an emotional sense, but more so in the sense that I will literally forever owe money to the University of Guelph. How can they or any bank for that matter expect a person who got a degree in General Arts to ever pay them back? It would be like the bank giving you a $40,000 loan, but instead of giving you that $40,000 instead they just gave you herpes, and then charged you for the original loan throughout the rest of your herpes infested life. Is this a bad forum for letting the public know I have herpes, debt, and a degree in General Arts? No I only actually have two of those three things, which means for the first time in my entire life I can truly say that I am disappointed I have not contrasted herpes, but I guess we all need something to look forward to.
When I was a kid a teacher of mine told me that I was an idiot and that I would never graduate from University, today I am proud to say that I have graduated from University and proven that teacher right all at once. There are people with all sorts of degrees that look at my degree and then suddenly become thankful for their own degree, even people with multiple degrees. And I am not even talking about other students getting University degrees, I am talking about people being charged with multiple degrees of murder that are able to look at my degree and no longer regret the decisions they have made in their lives. I could be like the opposite of A&E’s Beyond Scared Straight, that is just how abysmal my prospects in life are. Right now there is a guy on death row being charged for shooting someone in the face that would be terrified by the true nature of facing life with a degree in General Arts, even the guy he shot in the face is happy with how things turned out for him when juxtaposed to having my degree, and that guy is dead.
The weirdest part of graduating right now is that I am entirely jealous of the people I know who have dropped out of school to go pursue their dreams. And I do not mean people who have achieved their dreams, I mean that I am jealous of people who have dropped out of school and have gone on to completely fail at their dreams, because those people at least got to fail at their dreams. I am failing at no one’s dream. No kid dreams of having no dreams when they grow up.
Originally my dream was to be a lawyer, and my plan was to go to school to study Philosophy, but what I found was that paying to go to University to study Philosophy was a lot like walking into a car dealership and buying a horse and carriage. Actually not buying it, it was more like leasing the horse and carriage over four years. What is likely to happen to you is that at some point during that lease you might look around at all your friends speeding past you in their cars from that same dealership, and realize that what you paid for is quite outdated. At this point in the simile I only really had two options: the first option was to drop out, or the second option was to opt out. If I dropped out I have nothing to get me around in life, but if I opt out I still got a car just like everyone else at the dealership. Only catch was that car just so happened to be the shittiest one that they offered. And that is the story of how I got my General Arts degree, I opted out.
Well now that I am done with the past four years I have spent working, I must go so that I can work to pay for the past four years I spent really not actually working. Thank you for being a part of this shitty journey.
As I get ready to head back to University for one last year, I can’t help but feel the angsty teenage girl inside of me bursting to show off her curvaceous figure. In the shortest of phrases to describe my thoughts right now: Fuck. The summer is over.
I never get emotional about the summer. I tend to live in the now with slight tendencies to worry about the future and hardly ever do I dwell on the past. But at this moment, the dust that has barely settled from the summer is swirling around my head, filling my nostrills, agitating my eyes, and messing with my head. I’m at the sink trying to wash the dirt from my face, but I just can’t seem to get fully clean.
My summer has two parts. Part one, exploring the world, Europe to be exact. I’ve had two months to digest that experience, learn from it, and move past it. But the past two months working at camp are still fresh, the memories as crisp as the lake in the morning. What was so different about this summer from all the others? Why do I feel like I’ve lost something now that it’s over? I think the reality that I may never have a summer like it again is kicking in. That this past summer may have been my last summer as a youth.
As I look to my 6 course schedule and start worrying about my grades and my study habits that will affect my future, I begin to realize I miss stressing about things that don’t matter. For the past two months my biggest stresses while working at summer camp were:
- Do I have enough footage of kids smiling to make a video montage?
- Will the staff play happen?
- Does this girl want to kiss me?
- Do I want a freezie or a peach flavoured popsicle?
- Will this day off of alcohol consumption surrounded by good people be fun?(How did we stress about this?!)
In reflection I sit in astonishment…I can’t believe they pay me to do this.
I miss the adventure. Fourth year University doesn’t seem to be exhilarating to me. By now, school is pretty routine. The summer has an aura that keeps you wondering what stupidly fun thing tomorrow will bring. The care-free vibe that gives us the ability to walk around singing at the top of our lungs, not only not caring if people are listening to the terribleness of our voices in harmony, but hoping they are. Scheming, getting into trouble, causing a commotion…being “bad” without any “real” consequences.
I miss the hope of summer flings. The turmoil of the game, worrying if I said the right thing. Gathering the courage to put myself out there. The ecstasy of connecting with someone, even if it’s just for a moment.
I miss the chills. It’s crazy how people can just enter your life and become staples in your daily existence and then just like that, they’re gone. I could go weeks, months, years without speaking to them, people who I was comfortable enough to share the inner sanctity of my mind, regulate shower schedules with, even be close enough to be upset at. Some of these people I may never see again. I miss these people.
As I mope around my house, silently, feeling as if the world has ended, I wonder if there will ever be a summer like it. I worry that there won’t be. But I guess that’s how you know life is good, when you have something to be sad about. Because it means you had something to be happy about recently.
Five minutes ago my summer began, and a sense of unfulfillment manifested within me, so the following blog is brought to you by failure. To celebrate I am getting intimate with a Jos Louis, before it can be fully ingested into my stomach, where it can then get intimate with the stomach ache inducing Redbull, which currently seems to be simultaneously killing me and keeping me conscious. Thirty-something hours before my feast commenced, I awoke in my basement in Thornhill, so that I could begin studying for the final exam of my third year of University. That can also mean thirty-something hours ago I finally accepted my fate that either I begin learning the material for a course that I know absolutely nothing about, or I fail as horrifically as a Redbull and Jos Louis fueled heart. Now after thirty-six sleepless hours of attempting to fill my mind with meaningless course material, that would absolve from my memory faster than I could skim through the textbooks to even learn it, everything has subsided other than feelings that another year has passed, and still I do not take my life seriously.
Tomorrow, after this crazy one-man Vachon orientated party subsides, I will find myself back where I woke up one and a half days ago. Upon arrival my parents will congratulate me on another year of lazily dragging myself through university, by inevitably nagging me to go out and get a summer job. A job, the very thing that this entire University experience has been preparing me for, this should be easy, right? Wrong! As it turns out businesses are not looking to train University students to perform at a job for a span of five months, only so that they can quit, and go back to school where they can resume jerking-off to Game of Thrones with their fraternity brothers. Warning: do not join Cream Epsilon Pi. Although in retrospect the Cream-E-Pi shirts that were handed out on orientation day should have been a tell-tale sign of what was to come. Regardless, it is now time for myself to half-heartedly search for the position which is bound keep me in this constant loop of working mind-numbing jobs, the type of positions that make you feel like “if this I my life then I am probably just better off just eating Jos Louis and drinking red bull until I die.”
Sorry to disappoint, yet I am still here. It seems all that has really changed at the moment is the palpability of my life’s mediocrity, the apparency of which is now revealing itself to me through the Vachon wrappers spread out across my lap, leftover from whichever sugar filled substance my body is urgently fighting to ingest, and as my stomach ache fills my conscious, my subconscious has entered a continuous battle against a feeling of unfulfillment which my mind is immersed within. Obviously the person that I was three years ago when I graduated from high school is not identical to the one currently typing, but resumes do not measure your growth in maturity, or your ability to get intimate with a whole entire women, what they measure is academic achievements. So whenever I search for employment it becomes apparent that only a limited number of jobs are going to be handed out to 130 pound Philosophy students, who over their three years in University have only truly developed skills at watching Netflix, a deep appreciation for frozen meals, and an urge to write publicly about the average adolescent life that has entrapped them. Where did it all go so wrong? I mean I expected Nextflix to provide more content.
Whenever I look back at the high school I once attended in Thornhill, Ontario, before I left for University, the only real struggle for any of the students that had become apparent in each of our lives was the struggle not to fit in. We were literally all the same, while some of us appeared to be trying quite hard to fit in, the majority just could not help it, in comparison to one another we were all just painfully average. As a result a portion of those around me begun to cling to the minor dissimilarities that had begun to fill in their own spare time away from school, while in school, the majority began to find separation through their own academic achievements. All day growing up, surrounding me were other kids who may have looked different, or had different names, but unless one grasped onto some sort of unique hobby, like loving OneDirection, making YouTube videos, or thinking Nutella is gods poop, there was truly no way of telling anyone apart other than by those achievements that were made while we were altogether in school. The majority of my classmates came from the exact same circumstances as me; the Jewish parents who aspired to have them turn out more successful than their peers, just so that they can show them off to the other Jewish parents, an upper-middle class ‘keep up with the joneses’ lifestyle that the neighbourhood breeds, and the expectation that once they graduate at the top of their class from high school each one of them will attend the University of Western Ontario, where they will join a frat, likely not Cream-E-Pi, before either crushing or fulfilling those dreams of success laid out before them by their overbearing parents. As we grew up together, so did the habits that individuals clung to, and those habits suddenly began to transform into yet another similarity that drove the majority even closer together. Obviously this did not mean my entire high school was listening to OneDirection, yet now everyone was on Facebook, or Twitter, or was suddenly using their cellphone applications to recognize who farted, while they sat with their friends eating overpriced sushi, drinking Starbucks, and talking about Skrillex. Once again we were inseparable, it was like a game of “Where’s Waldo?” where everyone was Waldo. The only real way to distinguish Waldo’s as we continued to grow older suddenly seemed to become our own individual successes, mainly our academic ones.
In an environment that unavoidably conditions you to have expectations of financial success, it is needless to say that if I got a position at McDonalds this summer, one of those positions that far exceeds my own set of qualifications, then holding such a position would be viewed as some sort of shame, or disappointment. It would stand out as something to be looked down upon by those who I grew up with. Each day the accomplishments posted onto various social media websites by old schoolmates, allow me to share in their own successes, as I use their fledgling lives to fill the void in my own, in what could only be defined as a never ending social-media high school reunion. It is as if I am currently watching everyone that has ever entered into my life surpass me in real-time, as the pressure to begin talking my own life seriously, and avoid being left behind, is mounting itself through constant updates on my Facebook newsfeed. While a large amount of my peers find themselves one step closer to med-school, or higher up in their families company at the end of this school year, I have stuck myself with reflections that are defined by repeated mistakes, disappointment, impaired by a continuous struggle to progress past a box of Jos Louis, and the children’s book series “Where’s Waldo?”.
But what if this is all just instilled in me as a result of the environment that I find myself a product of? What if being lost and jobless after another year away at University, or working at McDonalds for a summer, is nothing to be looked down upon, and the real problem is this attitude that we have gained wherein the entirety of our lives, mainly our happiness, depends solely on these personal successes. It is hard not fall into this feeling that my life is set to revolve around financial or personal accomplishments that I never intended to achieve. While my own aspirations do not match those which have become the norm, they are often clouded by this feeling that somehow I must work keep up with all of my former and current classmates. As if now, three years into University, is the time to start taking my mediocre accomplishments seriously. At this point my depressing one-man celebration must come to an end. If anything comes from this post I hope it is that those who feel as though they are drowning in these pressures for success can realize that they are not alone; we are all just Waldo’s.
Two Guys, Onesie: A thief and his victim bond over a onesie.
A swimmer struggles to live in a society where the only thing people can see him for is his hair.
Our latest video dedicated to the #PizzaWeek campaign!