I decided that if I was going to support the mighty coogs (or at least cease to detest them) for just one night then I was going to have to start living like a Zoob. Only then could I fully appreciate the wild piggy-back-on-a-fat-guy ride that is the world of a Zoob fan.

So I woke up in the morning and rolled to Provo, just to check out my new turf. I took a whole three steps from my car when I heard a shrill voice let out, “A man! A single man!” I turned just in time to see the oncoming heard of cattle, errr...BYU coeds charging at me. I have never feared so much for my life. I tell you this, my friends, that throng of flabby humanity pushed me faster than I’ve ever moved. After a quick survey of potential hideouts I decided to pass on the jewelry store, CougarEats and Krispy Kreme shop–they were all sure to be packed with Zoobettes. Instead I opted for a health food store and found the place deserted. I ducked out by the granola while the Zoobettes rolled (literally) by and I was safe again.

I realized then that I was going to have to keep a lower profile about this BYU experimentation thing. The last thing I wanted was to return to Utedom with a ring on my finger and a fat girl following me. Clearly, I couldn’t proceed in that area as I was. I had to take on a different identity. I strapped on my Rick Majerus wig and stuffed a pillow under my oversized sweater and I was set. The Zoobs fled my presence like Trent Whiting from a rigorous practice, weeping and wailing the whole way. Now I was set to proceed throughout my Day as a Zoob. What does a Zoobie do all day? I racked my brain.

I went to several religion-oriented classes and pretended to be interested—you know, to look big in front of others. But they didn’t take to well to a Majerus-clone, so I proceeded to the next most popular Zoob activity that doesn’t involve fat girls. I went to the computer lab to post on the Ute Webboard. You know, as a Zoob it is my job to put those Yoots in their place. I hate those stupid Yoots. They think they’re so cool, what with their dominant run through most of the last decade and annual visits the NCAA tournament. Well, I’ve got news for them. They lost to Southern Utah and I’m much more excited about that then the fact that my coogs beat them. Stupid Yoots, they think just because they’re a half-game out of first place in the conference and have the easiest remaining schedule of the top three teams that they can actually win the conference. Don’t they know that we have shown that we can win on the road on Monday? Don’t they know that they lost to Southern Utah? Don’t they know that Majerus is fat? Ah....Coug, YzGuy, et al are the best friends a guy could have.

After responding to every post on the Utes’ board all day, I decided it was time to get over to the Marriott Center for the big game. I knew it was going to be a big one for my coogs. They had the look that they were hungrier than a BYU coed on fast Sunday. We even came up with some clever chants to shout at Wyoming, like “Fetchin’ Cowboys!” and “Pass the Jell-o!” It was better than any church singles mixer I’ve ever been to. And the coogs responded....we won, I think...I don’t really know—I was thrown out for waving my BYU flag....well, that and looking like Rick Majerus.

So, I returned home with my life and my unfailing Utedom, having walked in the shadow of the valley of Honor Code with nothing to show for it but a strengthened bond to my team.

Like the stock of Twinkies at the CougarEat, I am Out!

Honestly, that post was hilarious.

After your experiment, I wondered what it would be like to assume the role of a Yew fan. It was 11:30 p.m. and I realized I shouldn't be home, so I went back to the bar. Being a Yew fan I knew I couldn't go home alone, problem was there were only two women in the bar, one a babe and the other a definite heffer. Thinking like a Yew fan, I knew my only shot was to get the heffer. To my chagrin, the heffer obliged.

At 11:30 a.m. as I rolled out of bed, realizing what my beer goggles had failed to prove, was that the heffer was really a heffee. What should I do, get to 7-11 by 12:30 and be on time for work or go get tested for the diseases I could have. Thinking like a Yew fan, I said screw work. As Traxx let me off and as I continued to walk the rest of the way, I wondered how I could be so stupid. As I walk into the testing place, I look around to see Mr. Crimson and all my Yew fan poster buddies. Boy was I relieved. I was not alone. Lucky for me, Anasazi pulls out his 1/5th of Tequilla and I realize the day is only going to get better.

As we amuse ourselves with the previous nights stories, I remember that the Westerner opens early on Tuesday mornings, so I bring up the idea of screwing the Testing and hitting the bar a little early today. Everyone loves the idea, however, L.A.Ute says he needs to go home because he has to go to Mutual with his son later. We say "Whatever".

As we get to the Westerner, New York says "don't ya'll have some titty bars around here". Well duh, why didn't we think about that earlier. So we hop back into Gilly's 64 VW van and head down to Trails. However, on the way, we realize that those mean bullies from BYU are playing us in baseball at 1:00p.m. UteStar says " Let's go the game and throw beer bottles at those mean cougs." After using our brains a little bit, however, we realize nobody wants to go and see us lose by 15 runs to those holier than thou cougies. By now, it's 2:00p.m. and we had better get to the bar quick as Ute Runner is starting to have withdrawls.

By 6:30, we're more hammered than seven monkeys on a tilt-a-whirl and we gotta find someone errr something to go home with. As I spot my heffer(so I hope), I say "bye to the buddies and I'll see ya tomorrow, same place, same time."

At this point, I realize that this was only an experiment,(thank goodness) jump in my beamer and head home to my mansion very glad I am not a Yew fan.

First no amount of liquor is going create that first mistake. While there is no shame in going home with a big girl, after all they need lovin too and there is hard evidence that doing the deed with a nasty girl will improve your karma, slump-busting is the term.

Second Ute fans always work at the Rainbow because they are a sponsor and pay .25 more an hour. Disease testing is like peeing at the trough at a stadium, even if you see your buddies you don't chat.

Nobody goes to the Westerner and if you're picking a nudie bar Bush is the choice, because the girls are all naked and there are private rooms in the back.

And if you go for the heffer every night your friends will think less of you, some nights ya gots ta take a shot at the pretty ones even if it means visting Bobs Magazine and Video on the way home.

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