Joe Dawson ’12

For now, gather round the campfire for the last of Uncle Joe's Story Times.

I like stories much more than I like lists, so here are four of them in two installments.

Oberlin doesn't have ideal running weather all the time, but there are truly beautiful days, usually in the fall or early spring. We had a string of these last week and I decided to document my Sunday jog with a camera.

In which my hesitancy in both precludes me from a career in either.

Contents: Everything you ever need to know.

What need I with pants?

With some pretty provocative pictures inside...

Brought to you by a card-carrying member of the cool committee.

I wondered what literally burying my head in the sand would get me.

Do keep in mind that during this whole exchange Jacob and I are running at a pace of 3 to 4 minutes per mile, stripped to the waist, pectorals gleaming, swatting away the female delegation from the class of '61 with other members of the class of '61. Impressed?

One needs laser sights attached to their clown wigs. Am I trying to do too much?

Now the main event of camp has my old friend sex appeal in spades. It is the Musical, and it is guaranteed to give you what you need.

READ THIS IMMEDIATELY! TIME SENSITIVE MATERIAL INSIDE!

Entry may or may not include a sick freestyle!

First off, we became an unofficial SexCo...

Quick, name Oberlin's school colors. If you said crimson and gold, you owe me $5.

We assumed that the men, dressed in breeches and tunics would be doing an improvised version of a well known Shakespeare play, but no.

We have been staying up late, eating mostly home-cooked food, drinking a little, and seeing a terrific amount of improv in the last four days, and our trip is only about halfway over.

I get up off of Matt's lap, there's guilt and often a little weird silence, and someone will say "Jesus, what was that?"

My friend Tino and I debuted our 'Single Ladies' dance, and Twister didn't rehash awkward puberty memories, ending the party with my tears and cries of emotional pain, like it very easily could have.

At least the people on the treadmills aren't deluding themselves. They know that they're going to end up right back where they started, sweaty and out of breath.

If I know anything about Oberlin freshmen, you're not too preoccupied worrying about what to pack and what classes you want to take to worry about other activities at Oberlin.

Although I have written before about my favorite places on campus, I left out one very important building.

If this entry had audio, it would definitely have me doing a KILLER Bill Cosby impression: "My WIFE Camille, with the Jell-O pudding pops..."

Well, no. I'm not actually going to talk about sex. Not no never. I've always been a believer that sex is sort of like music. You don't talk about making it. If you're good at it you don't talk about it. If you talk about it, you're not good at it.

This week, no matter how it manifests itself, is worth missing sleep.

What be the ferocious and intangible 3-2 Engineering Program, you ask? Aye, for one as young as you, it is a thing most mysterious and, again, intangible. Sit down, children, and I'll tell you a story that would burn the hair right off your chest to hear.

A wordy and rambling entry rife with thoughts. There's also a picture thrown in to break things up.

I've been haunted in my sleep, you've been starring in my dreams, school I miss you...

"My manager told me, Mitch, don't use alcohol as a crutch. I can't use alcohol as a crutch because a crutch is something that helps me walk. Alcohol severely f____ up the way I walk. It's more like the step I didn't see." --Mitch Hedberg

Interest piqued? The title is an anagram for something pretty awesome at Oberlin.

I spent last Saturday afternoon planting trees. 'Planting trees' sounds like a euphemism for something dirty. But it's not. I actually spent the afternoon planting trees.

I can deal with the fact that on my list of things I am excited about I included "classes" and "renewable energy sources" because I have come to grips with the fact that I am a huuuuuuuuuge nerd.

Setting: Science Center Atrium, Thursday, October 15, Midterm week. Joe begins typing his 5th page of a roughly 6-page paper...

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens... Oh, hello there. I was just thinking about some of my favorite things here at Oberlin. Oh, I delight in hairless monkeys, Cathy comics, putting rubbing alcohol in my eyes, and above all, some great places to hang out in Oberlin.

Ed Helms did not show up, but I made a great impression on a guy who walked into the bathroom.

There is no required reading for freshmen at Oberlin, but a quick flip through Lord of the Flies could be real helpful.

*Maybe not...

You pick up some Yiddish at Oberlin, for those of you coming from places like Columbia, Missouri, or those of you too young to remember Linda Richman.

Isaac reflects on his first impressions of Oberlin after flying back home for fall break--only to find that his real home is at Oberlin. Awww.

So, who noticed that no less than three Oberlin professors cited 'girls' as their reason for coming to Oberlin?

What's better than a Brendan Fraser/Christopher Walken film named Blast From the Past? A blog post that features 8 blasts from the past! This one will be better. Guaranteed.

I got my grades for my first ever semester in college back a few weeks ago, and I'm...pretty pleased, actually....

The movie centered on Darius, a 15-year-old with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. Darius' brother Mario died of the same disease when he was 19, and Darius talks about his brother occasionally during the film.

So visualize this: I'm in my basement this morning, working on my bamboo bicycle, joining the steel remnants of a child-sized bike frame to my bamboo tubes.

I neglected to utilize the lock on the bathroom once, and it became uncomfortably non-private in the middle of my activities within.

They have a velvet Last Supper hanging above the stairs leading to the exit. I'm serious.

We went back and forth for quite some time, coming up with quality lines for the ladies, and some lame ones as well.