Heated Day’s Relief from thacant dotcom on Vimeo.

It’ll taste better Wednesday at 10:30. ComedyCentral.com

Go ahead. Give it a lil' squeeze.

An important thing to remember about Little Egypt is that, just like in Egypt itself, alcohol is prohibited. From the vantage point of a sidewalk patio, not a single liquor store can be seen. The adherence to culture and tradition combined with the entrepreneurship and coercion of storeowners is impressive and serves as a reminder that while you’re having your leisure time, others are working hard. While they offer sodas, teas, coffee and specialty beverages, plan ahead and make a hookah lounge your last stop of the night. That, or sneak in a fifth of spiced rum.

Arabian Nihiiights

As for the beer gardens, they open while it’s still light out for a reason; day-drinking.

BierGarten

Location: Make your way to 30^th and Steinway and wander from there.

Manual labor always makes the domestic canned beer taste better. – Tim Shea

Meat is delicious. We’re supposed to eat it. That’s why there’s a food pyramid, and we’re at the top of it.” – Cousin Peter

You should read The Smoking Jacket. It’s the non-objectifying version of Playboy. Needless to say it’s all blank pages.” – Brian Manning

Pulled pork. There’s lots of it in Troy. – Christopher Winn

This new ionized water. It makes you younger… Well it makes you feel younger. – Co-worker Paul

Of course there is room for criticism. – Brian Ivory

While the Bronx isn’t host to the expansive variety of running terrain that Ithaca offered, I still find that there are plenty of places to get miles in. Van Cortland Park, famous for it’s cross-country trails is thirty blocks away. I haven’t made my way up there yet, but I’ve come across some awesome places to run within minutes of my apartment.

The entrance to the New York Botanical Gardens is less than a half-mile from my doorstep. Admission to the Gardens is $12, but luckily (for me at least), Fordham students and runners gain free admission. The place is beautiful – there are tons of running trails, wide paths free of cars (but plenty of golf carts), and water fountains galore.

not-a-mirage

Pedestrians and paying visitors can check out the greenhouse, conservatory, arboretums and rhododendron gardens. I, on the other hand, strictly stay on the trails – I don’t want to abuse the privilege of my free entry. The Gardens are truly an oasis considering the urbanity and chaos in the surrounding neighborhoods. This is on the short list of places in New York City where you can spot wildlife (pigeons and rats not included).

The Botanical Gardens as well as the Bronx Zoo, are a part of a large set of land called Bronx Park. The name is cliché, but the paths there are enjoyable. It came into existence in the 1880s when there was a movement to create public parks. (The angst due to lack of backyards had finally boiled over!) Bronx Park is a huge area of preserved land along the Bronx River. The paths are windy, and pass under bridges: The Bronx Parkway runs more-or-less parallel to the Bronx River.

troll haven

Here, runners don’t have to stop for traffic and we can escape the streets for a few miles, and the canopy above provides welcome shade in the summer – and probably a shield from the rain. The downside is that it’s littered and there are no clean-up efforts in sight: On my run I saw cigarette butts, food wrappers, some dumped trash, even a pay-phone in the river below one of the bridges. Bronx Park is also a venue for lecherous activity: Bottle caps, condom wrappers, questionable individuals sitting on benches. The pungent smell of vinegar is pervasive here and I don’t know why. Regardless, the escape from honking taxis, curiously loud Civics and exhaust fumes is worth the perils of running in the park.

I wiped sweat from my brow along a path. Looking ahead I saw piles of clothing, sneakers and gold chains on the ground. Down a slope I saw a handful of Bronx youth swimming in the River. It was a hot day, and any respite from the humidity would have been welcome. I just couldn’t bear to watch these kids swim in such murky water. Not after seeing that rusted pay-phone upstream. Besides, this is where the ducks, flamingos and turtles at the Zoo swim.

lock jaw

I saw a sprinkler at Fordham University’s main traffic entrance. I slowed down and let it splash my face. I nearly made a wrong turn due to heat delirium, but finally made it home, to take off my shoes and slouch in front of my air-conditioner, ice-water in hand.

But I don’t come here to babble about personal endeavors or whine about the heat. I come here to provoke thought, respond to culture and to bring phone pics to life. If you really want to read about personal fitness, please check out Tim Shea’s Dairyland Memoirs on NotDrugs.com. His tribulations regarding re-fitness are something to laugh at, even if he doesn’t want you to. Enjoy.

You’re supposed to be able to balance an egg today. But after a few Google tries, it says you could do it on any day of the year. I’ve never tried. Today’s plans: prepare for tomorrow’s job interview in NYC, see Toy Story 3, dentist, balance an egg. Happy Summer!

But no longer. It’s the last day of school – my last last day of school. There are classes to attend, review sessions to stop in at, but most importantly – it’s Prospect Day, second only to the Cortaca Jug in terms of people setting alarms to wake them up from their hangover to play beer pong and rip Jello shots.

So pack your cooler with ice, stay on the lawns (NOT ON THE CITY SIDEWALK!), and pray that you’ll make it through the night. Come to think of it, a bag of Munchos wouldn’t hurt.

Happy Prospect Day, Ithaca College.

All of these things make us aware that this summer is over. For the first time in months, I have to go to real class. That’s not to say that class in L.A. wasn’t real – that’s to say that it was infrequent, and, as far as Government and Media was concerned, useless.

Although my first class isn’t until noon, I dread walking into Friends knowing that for those fifty minutes, I am prisoner to the professor in front of me. So what have I been doing to prepare to live on someone else’s terms for two more semesters, to get over this daunting steeple ahead of me?

I bought a planner. I’ve recently realized that I never know what’s going on. Nor do I know when it’s going on. So I got this planner, which, thus far, only has the time and location of my first class written in it. I’ll probably ditch it by October first. Now, it’s one of those things that, at the time being, I’m hopeful of, like Jordan saying that he “really wants to get good grades this semester, I know I always say it, but I’m really gonna try.” I know that in a few weeks, I’ll be tired of carrying it around and feeling like a nerd. I’m just gonna reassure myself that “I’ll remember _____,” until whatever-it-is occurs, someone reminds me of it, and I’ll think, “damn, if I only had that planner.”

I headed up to the lunch on campus where I invented the omnivore burger: A beef pattie and a veggie pattie on a bun. Twice the meet, half the carbs. Vegetarians may be shaking their heads at this, and I do apologize, because I think when I put the veg pat on, the tongs may have grazed the beef pat. Get over yourselves. I do apologize, though. While I was on campus, I ran into some old friends, immersed myself in the campus and came to terms with the fact that I’d be spending a fair amount of time up there in the coming weeks. I even got a shout out WICB. Thanks, Aaron Terkel.

Lastly, perhaps most importantly, I’ve given a final salute to summer, a season I’ve been reveling in since my flight left for Los Angeles January 10th. With plenty of Natty from Rog’s, an invitation to the Circles, and a beautiful night to swill, I took down the last sips of summer.

Goodnight, and see you on campus, if you can will yourself up there.