Don’t you hate it when you’re just about to score and the phone rings and wakes you up? Dontcha?

The Guru gripe of the day, and everyday, will be on this great university and the going-ons that I observe on a daily basis. Welcome back to another semester of tried-and-true journalistic endeavors by yours truly. To prepare you for this semester I feel it is my duty to clear up a couple of things.

First, my last name is not a typo. It’s ANDRESEN, sound it out, not Anderson. An-Dre-Sen. Good, now we can move on.

Two, if you don’t like what I say, too damn bad. This is my column, my opinions and obviously there’s something in here that keeps bringing you back, so don’t get all bent out of shape.

Three, this is intended to make you think about the world around you.

And last, but not least, I’m the Tattooed Guru in name and attitude. I don’t do piercings or tattoos, I do . . . well, I just do.

Okay, let’s get on with the show. Since it’s the beginning of another glorious school year you’re all wondering, I’m sure, what I’m going to talk about or who will I rip on next. The obvious answer is the greeks. (Here come the letters.) I’m sure they’ll get their share of ridicule, but so will everyone else, from the two-strap back-packers to the presidents of this ungrateful university. (Including the new GSB President, Mr. Mangan himself. Ohh, yes, you’re fair game, my friend.)

Hell, let’s start there. Why do you think the President of this University gets his own 24-hour reserved parking space when he lives on campus? I don’t recall any dormies getting their own spot outside of their rooms. They live on campus too, but nooo. They have to park out at the stadium which is about 400 kazillion miles away. Mr. Jischke, please give me a call and answer me that one question. Pleeze.

This whole argument opens a whole big can of worms called The Parking Systems, but I’ll save your time and my breath by dealing with them later.

There’s a new trend going around that has confused the hell out of me. I go to the bar, you know which one, and I see chicks with small leather backpacks. I wish someone could explain this weird phenomena to me. If there is a justifiable answer to this, let me know.

What could they possibly need at a bar that their pockets won’t hold? The last time I checked all you need at a bar was an ID and a lot of cash. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s beyond me. I know I’ve devoted a lot of time and space to this facet of confusion, but I want an answer, damn it.

Keeping with the bar theme, I might be able to give everyone a clue from the bartender’s point of view. It’s in the works and hopefully you’ll see me behind the bar serving ya’ a cold brewhaha.

There’s another recent trend I’ve noticed on campus so far this year. All the women are running around looking like they just jumped off the 90210 set. Tori Spelling everywhere you look. What happened to the big clothes look? Now we’ve got all these crop top, belly buttoned clones running around. Who starts these trends and more importantly, who follows and for how long?

By now, you’re all wondering where’s the bad-ass and did he lose his Svengali-ness? To be completely honest, no. I’m still the bad-ass I always was, but you all know it, so I won’t reiterate it every week.

As for my Svengali-ness, I’ll give you the definition this one time and that’s all you’ll hear. Svengali is an evil wizard who uses his powers to seduce young women. I’ve done that, and that’s all I have to say on that matter.

Same time, same place, not hardly. That was too easy. How about this? It’s all gravy and kiss my ass good-bye.