I'm going to be upfront with you. I love baseball.

I love talking about it. I love watching it. I love playing it. I love talking about watching other people play it. If I wasn't raised Jewish, I'd probably convert to baseball. In fact, I spent many childhood Saturday mornings in synagogue talking about Friday's game.

People wonder why I love baseball so much. If you're one of those people, you have either never been to a game or never been to a game with a real fan. I've taken several people to their first baseball game, and they have all asked to go to their second.

Baseball is not about guys in silly uniforms running around trying to catch a ball. Baseball is an experience. In fact, that first thing sounds a bit more like "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" than baseball.

You don't go to a baseball game by yourself. Baseball is community. Going to a baseball game is not just about the game itself, because for half the game the evil team is up. Baseball is about sitting back with a close friend or family member on a nice day and talking trash to the other fans.

I have been to more games with my brother than I have with anyone else, as he is half the reason I'm a baseball fan (my father being the other half). Since most of those were Mets games and most Mets games are losing efforts, we occupied ourselves by playing Points. Before each hitter, we'd predict what they were going to do and get a point if we got it right. And we'd get two points if it was a rare prediction, like the pitcher getting a hit or Rey Ordonez getting a hit. Our scores could also change based on Name that Tune, the Cap Game, the various really easy trivia quizzes and fake computerized races, and all the times my brother somehow found a way to cheat.

We all have our personal reasons to love baseball. When I was seven and the Mets won the World Series (yes, it was that long ago), I cheered with my brother. We also bonded over baseball cards and jerseys and playing catch, which I even got kind of good at. Kids like things they're kind of good at. And I know more about baseball, historically and otherwise, than you do. I like things I know more about than you do.

But the real reason we should all appreciate baseball is that it's the sport with the most incredible stories. Baseball is a modern day duel; ten paces has just been replaced with 60 feet, 6 inches.

My favorite story involves a rookie catcher trash talking Rogers Hornsby, one of the best player of all time. He was also cool because his first name was plural.

The legend says that the catcher, trying to distract Hornsby, invited him to dinner after the game, which distracted Hornsby long enough for strike one.

The catcher continued talking about what his wife would be cooking, naming all of Hornsby's favorite foods. Strike two.

The catcher then went into more mouthwatering detail, before Rogers finally glanced back at him, practically drooling, and belted the next pitch out for a home run. And as Hornsby scored, he asked, "what time should I get there?"

There are two cool things about that story. One, it makes someone named "Rogers" look bad ass. Two, "Rogers" and "Hornsby" did not show up as incorrect in my spell check. Even Microsoft Word knows how cool that story is.

I constantly write about what is wrong with the world, like Kinkos and Fox News and my not having a butt. However (or "but" if you prefer), baseball is something right. There are a lot of problems with it. Like steroids and the designated hitter and Bud Selig. But over all, it is one of the few right things I know of.

I don't collect baseball cards anymore, I haven't worn a jersey in years, and the last time I played catch was the end of my final intramural softball season. But I still love the game. And you should, too. Even if the Mets suck.

And trust me, they do.

We address a lot right here at CollegeHumor.com. Serious stuff like holidays, and video games, and crap we make up. Sometimes, we even write half-assed updates making fun of standup comedians even though we don't have the balls to try being one ourselves (take that, Nick). But rarely do we address the lighter side of life. That's why I wanted to take it upon myself to address the ever whimsical debate about racism.

There actually is a debate about racism, which is nuts. I figured by now we all realized that foreign chicks are hot, and thus racism is a moot idea. But our lives are filled with it, especially if you go to school in one of the three dozen states that only has white people.

I could never be racist. Not just because I think it's a ridiculous concept but because my sister is black. And I don't say that to mean that we're all brothers and sisters. We're not; there are enough people I'm already ashamed of being related to, I don't need to add you to the family. What I mean is that my older sister Sharon is actually adopted and black.

I tell people that sometimes and they congratulate me like I helped pick her out. "Oh, mom, get that one! She's tan, I like that. Who cares if I won't be born for another year, listen to me! She'll give me street cred."

Growing up with a black sister prevents me from ever being racist. Because racists form generalizations about people based on the first person they meet of that skin color. So I'd grow up and sit around with a bunch of racists. What would I say? "Man, I hate black people. Always reading my diary. And taking forever in the shower - something's got to be done!"

We're also a Jewish family, which means Sharon is a black Jewish woman. I told her she should run for president just to see how many people would try to kill her at once. She'd told me that she'd get a bubble car like the pope, but her bubble car would need a bubble car. That's that sense of humor that black Jewish women are legendary for. Thank you for paving that road, Whoopi.

Sharon does have a great sense of humor about it. When she was 14 and went to a meeting for a Jewish youth group, some Jerk asked her if she was really Jewish. She said, "no, I come for the food." Those Jews do have good food, you know.

I also have a Christian foster brother in his 40s who lives in upstate New York. Seriously. I think my parents were trying to write their own crappy buddy cop film.

"Let's pair a middle-aged white Christian guy from the country with a black Jewish twenty-something from New York City. And get this - they're somehow related."

All I know is it'd be better than Turner and Hooch.

A now a word from our non-racist sponsor. If you still need textbooks this semester, get cheap textbooks here. Now, hotlinks.

As often as I travel, I rarely get time to see any movies in the theatre. If I've got two hours in a strange town, I'd rather spend them exploring than sitting in a theatre. And by exploring, I mean sleeping.

I also don't get much time to watch TV, though I try when I can. And when I can, I see tons of commercials that remind me why sleep can be more enjoyable than seeing movies in the theatre.

It is rare that I see a commercial for a movie and think, "I have to see that." In fact, some full previews even suck. I saw a preview for High Fidelity on a DVD recently that said John Cusak's character was a guy that had it all, but was trying to find himself. If you've ever actually seen the movie (which was great, by the way), you'd know that by "it all" they meant "anguish and self-loathing."

So perhaps I'm wrong about the following flicks. But all I know about them is what I see in the ads, and from those ads, these movies seem to have "it all."

I now present you, the reader, with another installment of "A Night Not At the Movies."

Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen
Oh, it's so hard being a super popular teenage girl isn't it? I mean, with all that money and all those friends. It just screams angst! And that's not even the movie - that's just the life of star Lindsay Lohan. This flick just makes me want to run out and buy the CDs of all the groups the movie advertises.

Euro Trip
Just when you thought we might be heading towards peace, here comes Hollywood to exploit more ridiculous stereotypes. Including the time-honored tradition of guys completely ignoring the hot girl being hot until they see her in a bikini. Good plot twist - because no one noticed she was hot when she was just hot. But now that she's in a bikini and hot, we understand. The commercials refer to this one as American Pie meets Road Trip. See, because American Pie also had teenagers, and Road Trip also had a trip.

Calendar Girls
Holy crap do I not want to see this. Okay, you're old and still sexual, that's great, but do NOT show me. This could be the best written, best acted movie of all time and I still would not want to see it. Sex sells, but not when it's sex with old people. Yuck.

You Got Served
Come see the underground world of guys who dance on their heads and stuff. It's bad ass, right? Except it's about GUYS WHO DANCE. You Got Served? Served what, a danish on a little doiley? Dance competitions, even in their use on Saved By the Bell, are wussy. Especially if it's a 95-minute long commercial for B2K. I'd rather buy the crap in Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen. At least then I'd feel like more of a man. "But mom, I need to prove myself. With a dance contest! Let me get my argyle sweater."

50 First Dates
I liked this better the first time when it was called Groundhogs Day and it was clever. Am I the only one in America who finds Drew Barrymore more annoying than hot? She was okay in Wedding Singer, but any girl that Tom Green dumps because she's unstable isn't going to get me to keep coming out to the box office. And why put "Hey Ya" in the commercial? It's a great song, but we're getting tired of it. And if you can tell me when people who liked Drew Barrymore also started listening to Outkast, I'd appreciate it. But tell me again tomorrow, because if I see this movie, I'll pray for amnesia myself.

Catch That Kid
This is a direct quote from one of the reviews: "To pay for a costly medical operation for her father, a 12-year-old expert mountaineer uses her climbing skills to break into a high-tech bank where her mother works." Can I just see some naked old people instead? What a horrible concept. There have been plenty of movies where the hero is a criminal, but not movies geared for kids. That's just great - a generation of children climbing rock walls so they can learn to break through our security systems. How did this girl learn to become an "expert mountaineer" anyway? Must have been all that popularity and angst.

Did you ever hear the urban legend about the bunch of teachers who accidentally ate a caked laced with pot? Okay, so it's not an urban legend. It actually happened in Lueneburg, Germany Thursday. But it's so dumb it sounds like it could be in a B movie with that chick from Mr. Holland's Opus.

Here's the situation: A chocolate cake was anonymously left at the door to the staff room, and the teachers ate it without asking any questions as to its origin or why it tasted funny. Brilliant.

Maybe Germans are a more trusting people than Americans. But I'd think that not eating anonymous cakes is a bit of a given. You learn that stuff as a kid - even in Germany. Don't eat a cake that is sitting on your doorstep. That's a lesson you are taught just after you learn to look both ways before you cross the street, because people may be driving on the wrong side of it.

The funniest part is that the teachers didn't know they were high - they just thought they had food poisoning. These teachers must have not been tenured, because if they were they'd have been old enough to remember the 1960s.

I have never tried pot. But I can say that if I did, I wouldn't think I had food poisoning. I had food poisoning once, and it made me throw up for two weeks. If that's what pot does to you, there wouldn't be such a big of market. (I've just set myself up to get all kinds of letters from people attempting to explain what pot does to you. However, the writers of these letters will get distracted after the subject line and instead send a treatise on how Scooby-Doo was a total stoner.)

I can just imagine the conversation that went on in that staff room.

"I had some of that cake, and I spent the last half hour talking about how weird it'd be if god were praying to us."

"I think you have food poisoning."

"That's awful. Wanna watch Scooby-Doo?"

The teachers probably freaked out and ran to the doctor paranoid that they were sick. And paranoia is another clear sign of food poisoning. I'm guessing that on the way, they stopped at a convenience store to buy a great deal of food poisoning medication, known to the layperson as Doritos.

"I hear these settle your stomach. They're Nacho Cheesier."

I'm kidding, of course. Nobody ran anywhere. They were high. They probably drove, but really slowly. Maybe even on the right side of the road.

According to Reuters, a police spokesman said that the reason the teachers had not suspected anything was "because it was customary for them to buy cakes from the schoolchildren as part of a fund-raising project." I take two things from this statement. One, the police are now involved. Two, this is a very fat town. I can understand the occasional bake sale, but an ongoing "sell the teachers cake" project? Perhaps instead of those little milks, they serve half and half with school lunches.

Even if it was routine for teachers to scarf a cake every day, they still BOUGHT these cakes, so their excuse doesn't convince me. I doubt there was a bill left with this one.

"Hey guys - you know how usually we pay for cake? We've got a new cake, but they must want us to pay later. Quick, let's eat it without asking any questions as to its origin or why it tastes funny."

The teachers were alerted as to what happened after doctors told them what they were feeling was less food poisoning and more being high. That must have been fun to witness.

"Oh," one teacher probably exclaimed. "That must be why I have spent the last half hour contemplating what I'd do if I had feet for hands. And watching Scooby-Doo."

But even more fun was the conversation the doctors had amongst themselves in the breakroom.

"Did you hear the one about the bunch of teachers who accidentally ate a caked laced with pot?"

"Yeah," another doctor said. "Wasn't the chick from Mr. Holland's Opus in that movie?"

"Nevermind that," said a third doctor. "I'm trying to figure out what would happen if god were praying to us."

Though I'm guessing they said all this in German.

Joe Dawg,

What's up man. I'm in a bit of a quandry here. I'm studying overseas right now and during the first week met a few cute local girls. Being your typical college dude, I hooked up with the first one that jumped in my lap. Problem is that her friend's is much hotter, and I want a piece of that, but the other girl kinda thinks we're dating already. So Joe College, lend me some wisdom on how I can score her friend while keeping the other girl around the block as well.

Sincerely,
In need of a game plan

In need of a game plan dawg,

I find it hard to believe that you're being completely honest with me. Your email came from an NYU address. Local GIRLS, huh? I know better. Talk to me, In Need of a Game Plan Dawg. I won't judge you.

But you do pose a good question, and I will answer it for the benefit of all of my readers actually interested in girls. The friend switch is tough - but do not be discouraged because it IS possible. Right now, you are off limits for her friend. And if there's one thing we know about girls is that they like guys who are off limits. If there are two things, the other is that they will gladly ruin a friendship to get a guy. They'll repair the friendship and ditch the guy a few weeks later, but you're leaving the country, so what do you care?

You being off limits, you can safely flirt with girl #2 because you're "taken." In the meantime, let things fizzle with girl #1. Don't be a dick - just be boring. She can't hate you for being boring, and if girl #2 finds you interesting, girl #1 will say, "I don't know why you want him, but you can have him." Though she'll probably say it in some foreign language. And then one day all three of you will get drunk and it's go time.

Dear Joe College,

My friend and I have been having a debate and I was wondering if you, in all your wise wisdom, could settle it for us. He insists that a straight male cannot have an attractive female friend and not want to bang her. I insist that...well, really I don't insist anything because what the hell do I know about how guys think? I kind of hope that he's right, as I have a guy friend who I'd quite enjoy hooking up with.

Cara

Dear Cara,

Wow, your friend's theory is brilliant. It sums up everything guys have ever been thinking, except no one has put it to words before. Except in When Harry Met Sally, when it was the central theme and the characters talked about it half a dozen times. But aside from that, your friend is brilliant and super original. That aside, it sounds like you guys are having a crappy debate.

Him: "a straight male cannot have an attractive female friend and not want to bang her."
You: "okay"

Sounds scintillating.

But it is true. Guys like hot girls. But remember - hotness also depends, albeit slightly, on personality. If a guy has a hot friend who is a vapid bitch, he still wants to bang her. But only once, because you gotta draw the line somewhere.

In conclusion, yes he does want to bang you. How do I know? Well, if you think he's smart for stealing a theory from a movie, you're probably not that quick yourself. And if you're not that quick, you had to get through life somehow, so you're probably hot. At least you better be. Otherwise I'd put on that McDonalds nametag and get to work.

Thanks for writing. This was Joe College saying, "I'd like to supersize that."

Got a question about an aspect of college life? Want to be made fun of? Then this is the place for you! Send all your college-related questions to joecollege AT observationalhumor DOT com.

A few things.

1) Meg has a new issue of Suite Confessions out today called "One foot in the real world, one foot in happy hour"� which you can get here.
2) New Observational Humor column out today called "To Write A Wrong" So check out that too.
3) Keep watching the Fuse network's IMX show all this week live from 6-7pm ET. Our friend Chris is hosting and we've got our own segment on it called "Douchebag of the Day." And then, do us a huge favor and e-mail them at this address- fuseinfo@fuse.tv and tell them that you like Chris as the new IMX host this week. Gracias, friends.
4) And finally, our friend Kyle is doing a site for Indie/Garage bands. So if you're in one, check it out here.

Now clickety clack these hotlinks.

Last week, I wrote about watching the Super Bowl: something stereotypically male. This week, I'm writing about drawing on your passed out friends: something proprietarily male.

Women draw on people just as often, but not when the art project is drunk. Because a woman can draw on a guy whenever she wants. In Bull Durham, Susan Sarandon said that a guy will do anything if he thinks it's foreplay. And for some ridiculous reason, guys think that if a girl is paying attention to them in any form at all, he'll score.

After a show at a school in North Carolina, I went back to my host's suite, where I saw a guy wearing a sharpie. He was covered with demeaning pictures and phrases, but smiling the whole time. Smiling because there was a woman at the other end of the marker. But when a woman draws pictures of male genitals on a guy, she doesn't care much for his.

Girls don't usually write on each other - but if a girl wants to prevent her friend from getting any, she will "help" with her makeup. When this happens, the girl emerges looking like Jackson Pollack after a hard day at the office.

Men, however, only have one opportunity to write on people - and it's when a guy is passed out. Men don't write on women when they're passed out. The men try, but when a woman passes out drunk, her friends actually look out for her. Crazy, I know.

The most common things a man writes on another man include a picture of male genitals (obviously an old standard) and a phrase doubting his heterosexuality. Which makes me wonder if drunk gay guys do this, only with pictures of boobs and phrases such as, "I like women."

Without caring about their sexual orientation or the possible consequences, men draw on each other constantly. The possible consequences include ink poisoning and next-day butt-kickings. But there is a third, less obvious consequence that most men do not realize. You may not know this, but paramedics also write on people.

That's when it gets dangerous. Sometimes a passed out friend is sicker than you originally think, and has to be rushed to the hospital to get his stomach pumped. Imagine the look of confusion on the doctor's face when he's told that your friend's blood pressure is 90 over I Like Men.

"Well then," he'll say. "We'll just make the incision right here at the picture of the male genitals.

Thanks to the advent of digital cameras, writing on drunk guys has become more common. But I'm pretty sure it has been going on as long as men have had access to writing implements and drunk guys. I bet when Og had a little too much grog, he awoke the next morning with a terrible headache, covered in hieroglyphic pictures of male genitals. The headache was not from his hangover, rather that the writing implements were a stone and chisel.

And don't think that anyone is too high class for this practice - every group of friends has had someone written on at least once. Even someone like Shakespeare wasn't immune. There was one Saturday night in, say, 1599, when Will had a few too many hearty libations, and drifted off as his friends ran for the quill pen.

"Alas, poor Yorick, I like men."

"Who wrote this?" Shakespeare bellowed the next morning. "Say, that first part is kind of good."

He didn't say that exactly - keep in mind this is translated from the original English. The original quote was, "Say, yon kinsman, that first part is kind of good."

And writing is not the only problem. Guys occasionally step it up a notch and go from drawing pictures of genitals to taking pictures of genitals. Genitals that are conveniently hanging over the face of the guy who is passed out.

While all of this could be racked up as assault, I've never heard of a guy filing charges. Mainly because no one wants those types of pictures to be publicized. But there are other less legal and more funny ways of getting back at your assailant.

Like getting a hot girl to write on them. Or having a sharpie handy for personal retribution. Not me though. When someone writes on me, marking them up in return would be childish and immature.

I prefer a stone and chisel.

From 6:00 until 9:00 on Super Bowl Sunday, you really ought to be watching the Super Bowl. Or at least be standing in a room where other people are.

For many of you, this is preaching to the choir. Which I always thought was a funny expression. That's supposed to mean that you're telling something to people who already know it. But the choir is good at singing, and not all singers are good listeners. Maybe the choir doesn't already know what you're saying because they weren't listening, what with all the time they have to concentrate on singing. So maybe this isn't preaching to the choir.

For many of you, this is preaching to the people who already know what the preacher is going to say. But rumor has it that some of you do not watch the Super Bowl. I know, that's crazy talk. But it's true. There are people left in America, however few, that do not watch the Super Bowl. Or (gasp) the Super Bowl commercials.

The main argument against the Super Bowl is that some people just aren't sports fans. This would be a valid argument if the Super Bowl had anything at all to do with sports. The team I've been pulling for in the game has lost four of the last five years. One of those teams was my favorite - the New York Giants (they have not been a football team since). But I had a great time watching the game. Because no one watching the game actually cares about the game.

I have watched many World Series, Stanley Cup, and NBA Finals games by myself. I have never watched a Super Bowl with fewer than 15 people. Well, I did when I was a kid, but I always wanted my parents to change that. The Super Bowl is such a community event, I was even willing to hang out with my parents friends for the game.

The Super Bowl is about togetherness. And nachos. Lots of nachos. They go together with nacho toppings. See? Togetherness. And soda and beer and pizza and wings and all kinds of food that is unhealthy for you because no matter what you eat you'll be smaller than a lineman.

The Super Bowl is about togetherness. And commercials. Lots of commercials. Commercials so good or bad that you discuss them together with your friends. See? Togetherness. I'm still laughing at the E-Trade commercial with the dancing monkey from three years ago. I have never needed to trade online, but if I did, I would use E-Trade because they have a dancing monkey.

The Super Bowl is about togetherness. And gambling. Lots of gambling. Together with other people at the party that you may or may not know. See? Togetherness. My favorite is the grid pool, where I arbitrarily put down a dollar to bet on the final digits of the score. I have never won a grid pool. But I always play it because it's fun and I don't know when enough is enough.

I actually am a football fan and I try to watch every down (play, for those of you not in the choir). But I am more of a fan of how much fun watching a game can be with a ton of people. I am a fan of anything that can bring that ton of people together for nachos, commercials, and gambling. I guess that also makes me a fan of the midnight buffet on a cruise ship, but if that's wrong, I don't want to be right.

It's true that some togetherness can be bad. A widely circulated statistic is that Super Bowl Sunday sees more domestic violence than any other day. That's true. But it is not the Super Bowl's fault. On Christmas a few year's back, a baseball player named Bobby Chouinard held his wife at gun point because she didn't want to go out and get more beer. Is that Christmas' fault? No, that's Bobby Chouinard's fault. He'd be a jerk without Christmas. He'd be a jerk without the Super Bowl. He'd be a jerk without marriage, too, just to someone else.

Comedian Marc Maron recently called the Super Bowl a free day, where non-Super Bowl people can roam the earth unencumbered by Super Bowl trappings. And as often as I usually agree with him, I don't here. See, I really love nachos.

As a Jew, I used to think Christmas was my free day. I used it to walk around empty streets and movie theatres and Chinese restaurants. But this year I went to a Christmas party. I didn't celebrate the holiday at all, I just went to a party. And I had a GREAT time. Because I was together with some friends and that's what mattered. Also, they had nachos. I was thinking that if only they could add commercials and a grid pool to Christmas, I'd be there every year.

I'm not asking anyone to be a football fan. Or even care that the Patriots are going to win by four or so points. I'm just asking people to go to a friend's house and watch a bunch of silly men run around while you are surrounded by people you enjoy.

But don't watch the half time show because that usually sucks.