Nick - Fuck You, I've Written 119 Classic Brians

And I went through and tagged all of them.

(Minus one about jellyfish that Blogger has, for some reason, decided shall never be updated, edited, deleted, or otherwise amended.)

Remember when Eliot posted this? Ohohohohoho! The foolishness! While Eliot was contemplating who had got to 100 first, I was sitting comfortably at 107.

"While it is unknown as to whether Nick or I have accumulated more blog posts over CB's existence (it's certainly turned into a two-man game of late), let's just pretend that I own the lion's share." - Eliot Sill

Ha! Man, I am so hard working.

You might think that just because I've missed a few posts, I'm out of the game. Don't count on it, bitches. Daddy's home.

-Nick.

Nick - I'm In New Orleans, Doing New Orleans Things

Oh hey guys. I guess I really don't have to post since Conor posted for all of us on Friday, but I don't know when to quit, so here I am.

Classic Brian and I spent 11 hours on Saturday (we made good time) driving south. It was pretty fun. I made Brian talk in his Lumpy Space Princess voice for the last hour of the journey. We drove through Mississippi, which is the dullest place in America according to Mr. Horne. (We second the opinion.)

We also had some interesting experiences with out GPS. See, it won't tell you the next thing you have to do unless you press the Voice Button. There was a good hour and a half where, when the Voice Button was pressed, it just said "Drive straight for over 300 miles."

Brian and I said nothing to each other, we just pressed the Voice Button every five minutes for an hour and a half, waiting for it to say something else. Good times.

ANYWAY, New Orleans. Classic and I have decided we're going to live here. Everyone here is friendly. There's so much culture, everywhere you look. Music on every street corner; all the shops and restaurants are local. There are artists selling their works on the streets.

I have a better sense of style than any of these motherfuckers. I'm used to being compared to other Champaign-Urbana people, but I expected better from you New Orleans folks.

We went on a run and checked out all the cool stores and hung out with a friend from Springfield.

Shoutout to my girl, Camille Floyd. What a cool lady. I would give a shoutout to her boyfriend too, but I'm terrified I'll spell his name wrong.

Anyway, yeah, this is the best. We're going to live here some day, because we like being here better than we like any of you people.

-Nick.

Conor - I'm A Big Dummy

Hey can I text you content of my Classic Brian? I don't have internet where I'm at now.

A Classic Brian in 160 character installments. A Classic Brian for the twitter age.

Okay. This text plus those first two make up the introduction. My statement of purpose. Hello, Classic Brian readers. How have you been?

Also Nick keep in mind I'll probably be sending you this over the course of the night. You're a good friend. Nick Dietrich, everyone. He's a real cool bro.

Let me set the scene for you guys. Here I sit, on a couch in a condo in the Durango Mountain Resort in Durango, Colorado. I've been here since Monday night.

It's a nice place. There are decorative skis on the walls, which seems sortof silly. There is a virtual fireplace. Also silly.

Nick you better be seperating these texts with paragraph breaks. These thoughts are grouped together for a reason, god damnit.

Not that I don't trust you.

I'm currently watching episode 5 season 1 of the Wire with the 5 other people I'm on this trip with.

I slept for 12 hours today and I've spent the day alone in the condo, reading The Girl Who Played With Fire and listening to music.

Had things not turned out how they did, I would've been snowboarding all day with the rest of these guys. That's how things were looking, before The Incident.

Capitalize The Incident, Nick.

Snowboarding is hard. Let me tell you. Snowboarding is very difficult. Mountains are big and steep, and even when you master turning left, there's still right.

We've been snowboarding all week, and things were going swimmingly. I'm not the best at snowboarding but I've seen some dumb fools up here who are eeeven worse.

So Thursday, our second full day of mountain time, we agreed to meet for lunch around 12:30.

I've been sticking around with my friend Caitlin all week, because we are pretty much the worst of our group.

Mike sucks way worse than us though because he switched to skis midway through our first full day. He's not a soldier. Caitlin and I? We're soldiers.

I would dedicate more space to insulting Mike more I don't have much more material. Skiing's weak though.

So anyway around noon Caitlin and I get to the bottom of the mountain, half an hour before our agreed lunch meeting time.

I decide to go up the mountain for another run, and Caitlin, not caring for my personal safety, decides to stay.

Let me phrase this in no uncertain terms: everything that happens after this point is Caitlin's fault.

The rest of this story is pieced together through secondary sources, because I have no idea what happened. I lost 6 or 7 hours of memory.

12 minutes later later Caitlin finds me at the bottom of the mountain. She waves, but I don't acknoledge her. I don't seem to recognize her.

When she approaches me I tell her I can't remember how to take my snowboard off. I tell her that I think I hit my head, that I need to go get it looked at.

Apparently they took me to urgent care. I proceeded to have the same 2 conversations with everyone for two hours not remembering that they had already occurred.

After a little while I didn't improve, and they decided I needed to go to the hospital and get a CAT scan.

For anybody who's interested, the first conversation was about the color of my socks (pink), and the second was about whether or not I was acting like myself.

The long and short of it was I got a concussion. The CAT scan showed up clean, and I was let go once I became more coherent. Which I eventually did.

Shout out to Chris Larberg, who stayed with me the entire time, and who also witnessed some reportedly interesting events.

Shortly before I got more sensible I went "fuuuuuuuck. This painting is trite. I hate this place. Let's escape."

Even a dehabilitating head injury could not quell my revolutionary impulses.

The painting in question was a house in a meadow. It was painted in broad, impressionistic strokes, and it was truly a little unnecessary.

It's scary, losing several hours of your memory. For a while there I lost a lot more. I forgot several things that happened over the course of the year.

Everything's back, excluding the hours leading upto and after the crash, but still. That was honestly really scary.

Nick, embed a youtube video of some really sad music here, to really sell this part. Your call on the song.

I forgot things about winter break. Things about this last semester.

I did not forget anything about the Wire.

Or the spelling of chords, I guess. Chris said that one of the only things I consistently knew was chords.

It all came back over the course of the night, thank god. My sister Betsy tried to trick into thinking I owed her $80. Soooooortof a bitch.

I can't excersize for a week and my head hurts like shit, but all in all, things turned out okay.

So that's the past 32 hours of my life. C-Dawg out.


Nick, feel free to title and tag this whatever you want. You're the man.

Tell me when you post that.

Wait, one more thing. I have stats that my friend Becca took while I was in urgent care. When she realized how many times we were going to be having the same

conversations, she started keeping track. Here are the counts.

How long have I been here in this room - IIIIIIIIIIII (12)

How long have I been here in Durango - IIIIIII (7)

What day is it? - IIIIII (6)

My socks are pink - IIIIIII (7)

Should I have this ice on my head - IIII (4)

Have my parents been notified? - II (2)

How did this happen? - IIIIIII (7)

Was anyone with me? - III (3)

When did this happen? - III (3)

Have we had similar conversations? - IIIII (5)

Can I go to sleep? - I (...1)

Can I sit up - III (3)

Is this a real medical concern? - II (2)

I blame myself for what happened - II (2)

I blame my friends for what happened - IIII (4)



Have you posted that shit?

Nick - Conor O'Brien

FACT: Conor was really squinty as a little kid.

Conor O'Brien. The man. The legend. That guy. Around here, we call him Friday Conor. But long before that, he was Conor the tag champion. Conor who fell down and scraped his knee every time he tried to come to my house. There are so many things you have yet to learn about Conor O'Brien.

Let's start at the very beginning. Conor and I were maybe 4 years old. Or 7? Or 5? We were some amount of years old. I was playing with my good friend Peter Eck, who urged me that we should go play with this "really cool" kid named Conor who lived next to Peter. After playing, the next day Peter wasn't home, so I went over to Conor's house to see if he wanted to play.

At first he stared at me like he didn't recognize me at all, but before long we hit it off and we were sitting on his porch talking about very important matters.

"There used to be a dead ant in here." Conor informed me in a grave voice, as he motioned toward his belly button. "I washed it out though." He added.

It was a glorious friendship if there ever was one. He fell on his face onto the sidewalk every time he tried to walk down the street to my house.

FACT: little-kid Conor got angry really often. One time he picked me up and threw me on my driveway during an argument about spiders and ants.

As time went on, we progressed to more serious topics than dead ants: we played Nintendo and tag.

FACT: we were champions at tag. My brother used to get really mad by the end of every game and try to hit us and stuff. Also Nicole Down The Street used to play. Conor had a falling out with Nicole Down The Street.

FACT: I really liked watching Conor play video games. It was weird.

As Conor continued to grow up, he developed into the leader of the glorious improv troupe known as Easily Amused. It is presumably at this time that he met Mike Watts and Paul Elders and had his innocence taken away.

During Conor's late high school years, we saw emerge the Conor we know and love today: the Conor That Knows Everybody. He branched out socially. His music developed from playing Final Fantasy music to writing his own really cool songs.

FACT: Conor can play a lot of instruments. Possibly more than any of us can name.

And then Band Practice began. Probably the second coolest thing that Conor will ever be a part of, right after the Easily Amused Improv Troupe, is his cool band. They have an EP which has been talked about plenty here, so I will keep this section concise.

Now Conor is in Oklahoma, presumably making more music with less cool people and hopefully working on a zombie invasion like in Zombie Snowpocalypse.

The things that make Conor extraordinary are the things that make him Conor. He is hilarious. He is awkward. He is, at times, hilariously awkward. He's really great at making friends and talking to people. He puts forth a lot of effort to be involved in as much as he can. He's full of funny and cool ideas, and he can really bring people together when he tries.

Even the notorious aspects of Conor's personality are kind of endearing. Everybody knows that he probably won't get everything done that he says he'll get done. But it's okay, we tell ourselves, because he's Conor.

I like to think of Conor O'Brien like a prom queen. Even though she's really popular, she always makes time for you. It's just part of her charm, grace, and voluptuousness that she's around all the time even though she seems like she should be too cool to be hanging out with your friends.

Yeah. Conor's like that.

-Nick.

The Lost City, Pt. 2

Stepping disdainfully over the headless corpse of Conor, Lathandros forged onward. He hated distractions. He was in a hurry to get home and just wanted to get what they had come for. They wound their way through the ruins swiftly. They had not come to see the city, incredible as it was. What they had come for was on the other side.

After an hour or so of walking, they had almost made it through. They could see it now. The cave. Daunting and dark, it seemed to exude terror. Grywio let out a grumble of discomfort. He may be a dwarf, but even he feared to enter this place. Lanthandros, however, was not phased. He knew no fear. This was no silly sense of pride either. He was simply physically incapable of feeling that emotion.

As they left the outskirts of the city to approach the cave, Lathandros sensed something. Spinning around, his bow was out in a flash with an arrow notched. His sights were set on the shadowy figure that was emerging from one of the ruined structures. It was a centaur. Neither of the two had ever seen one of these mysterious beings before, only heard of them in legend. He truly was a sight to behold. His long flowing hair glimmered in the sunlight. His massive upper body was covered in scars, speaking of countless victorious battles. The elf lowered his bow. The centaur slowly moved toward them. As he stood before them, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Sup bros. The name's Chillas. What are you two muchachos doing in my hood?"

"Uhhh...we have come seeking something of great importance to us. It lies in the cave over yonder," replied Lathandros hesitantly.

"Oh right. You want the Treasure of Lolla, eh? I'll come with if that's cool with you bros."

"Yeah...yeah that's fine..."

The now trio made their way to the cave entrance. Not wanting to dwell on the fear that consumed him, the dwarf plunged forward, and the others followed.

"Well, this is homely..." said Gwyrio.

And indeed it was. A fire burned in a fireplace, illuminating a cozy den.

"What the..." began Lathandros, but was abruptly interrupted by a door on the other side of the room being thrown open. A huge minotaur burst in. He brandished an enormous battle axe, fire burning in his eyes. His long blonde hair was held back by a green bandana.

"What are you doing in my house?!?!" roared the minotaur.

"Uhh we came for the treasure...don't suppose you know where that is, do you? And if so, do you, uh, think we could have it...?"

"Oh yeah of course. It's right over there in that glowing suitcase. Fight me for it? Pick which one of you wants to accept the challenge."

"I got this, bros," said Chillas. "Toss me that sword."

The battle that ensued was epic. There was clashing of steel and bloodshed and yelling.

And then I ran out of dream.


CAST LISTING (as determined by me after waking up):
Gwyrio- Eliot
Lathandros- Me (of course)
Conor- Robert
Chillas- Conor
Minotaur-Nick

-Classic