Minster: The summer that (sort of) was
A summer spent in school gets exaggerated
Published on Mon., August 13th, 2007
Summer ended and now we talk about where we’ve been and what we’ve done. But who wants to hear how I spent my summer holed up in a calculus class? No one. So I’ve taken the liberty to add some minor embellishments.
May was kind of a hectic month for me. I had hardly finished finals and a three-week gig as an underwear model when I had to catch the red-eye to LA to cut the cord for Julia Roberts’s son. She wanted to name it after me.
“Jules,” I said, “I can’t let you do that.”
“But you mean so much to me. It’s the least I can do.”
“Think of all the unwanted attention he’ll get.”
“True,” she said. A nurse tried to chase me from the room, but Julia had her fired on the spot. Then she said, “Well, what can I do for you?”
“Get me two tickets to the premiere of your niece’s movie. My wife’s a huge Nancy Drew fan.”
Julia pulled a cell phone from beneath her hospital gown and made a few calls. All the seats were spoken for, so there was some jockeying and I ended up taking Emma Roberts’s spot while she watched the premiere on Access Hollywood later that night.
After so much action in May, I just wanted to spend June relaxing. My family and I spent the entire month heliskiing in Patagonia. While we were down there I met with some high-ranking Argentine officials about their economically-foolish ban on exporting beef.
“Señor,” said Presidente Kirchner, “we must ban exports.”
“Presidente,” I began.
“Please,” he interrupted, “call me Nestor.”
“It just doesn’t make sense,” I said.
“I know,” he said, “but if I back down just because some big-name American came in here and told me I should, I’ll lose face.”
“Hey, I’m not Bono; when it comes to economics, I actually know what I’m talking about.”
“Consider it done,” he said.
July was supposed to be when I started touring in support of my new album, “I Spit Hot Commentaries” (featuring my hit single “Girl, I’m Gonna Hit It Like a Bag of Walnuts”). However, as I was gargling lemon tea backstage before the first of my fifteen sold-out shows at Madison Square Garden, Britney Spears called.
“Waiter, the chicken took three measures of barley,” she said.
“Brit,” I said, “slow down. You’re not making any sense.”
“The lovable eyes know the moon is devious,” she replied.
“Have you gone crazy again?” I asked.
“Who knows the meaning of three dogs sniffing each other in a circle?”
“Yep, you’re crazy. Just don’t do anything until I get there. Remember last time when you married Kevin Federline?”
So I drove Britney to rehab, then went back the next day and picked her up, then took her back again a couple days later, then picked her up again right after that. If I get three more hole punches on the center’s frequent visitors card, I’ll qualify for a free case of “exhaustion” for myself and three friends.
August has been just brutal. Between my record, my movie premiere (“I Now Pronounce You Nine Dollars Poorer,” in theaters now), my book signing (“Bigger Than Jesus and Three Times as Handsome,” $29.95 from Knopf), and my single-handed negotiation of a framework for peace in Darfur, I’ve hardly had time to get ready for another semester at KU. But I knew it was important, so I made the time. After all, if there’s one thing I do well, it’s keeping it real.
Minster is a Lawrence senior in economics.
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