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67

cracked

  • 5 Reasons It€™s Impossible to Find Funny Books 27 January, 2012, 5:00 am
    By Daniel O'Brien  Published: January 27th, 2012  I like funny things. I work with a bunch of funny people all day. Everyone in my family tells jokes. I like watching funny movies and TV shows and listening to funny podcasts. I'm very, very simple.I also like funny books. Not books about comedy, or
  • 5 Famous Late Bloomers 27 January, 2012, 1:00 am
    By Simon Dufresne,Dylan Moore  Published: January 27th, 2012  Picking a career is pretty hard, it turns out. Not only do you have to choose something you could see yourself doing for the rest of your life, but you also have to be somewhat competent at it. Most of us will just fall into something and go with it.
  • The 5 Most Ruined Orgasms in Cinema History 26 January, 2012, 5:00 am
    By Gladstone  Published: January 26th, 2012  Every generation claims to have suffered more than those that follow. "Oh, in my day, we had to walk three miles to school; we fought in a war; we died of dysentery drinking well water that hadn't been boiled sufficiently." Blah. Blah. Blah. But I do
  • 8 Amazing Works of Art You Need a Microscope to Appreciate 26 January, 2012, 5:00 am
    By Kristi Harrison  Published: January 26th, 2012  For as long as there have been people making art, there have been people who are really good at it. People like Thomas Kinkade and the painter of Space Jesus, just to name two. But it's one thing to paint the weeping, planet-sized face of Jesus Chris
  • The 6 Stupidest Things We Use to Judge People We Don't Know 26 January, 2012, 1:00 am
    By John Cheese  Published: January 26th, 2012  A couple of days ago I was talking to a friend about music, and within 30 seconds we were making fun of Nickelback. Half a minute after that, we were ripping on their fans. At the time, we were just two guys looking down our noses and laughing at a f
  • 29 Video Game Characters That Would Be Horrifying in Reality 25 January, 2012, 5:00 am
    By CRACKED Readers  Published: January 25th, 2012  Video games do a pretty good job of avoiding the uncanniest corners of the uncanny valley. But if you spend enough time in one, you can't help but wonder how the characters you encounter there would translate to the real world. We asked you to show u
  • How Hollywood Decided to Reboot Classic Children's Tales 25 January, 2012, 5:00 am
    By Robert Brockway  Published: January 25th, 2012  Chaz Blazer, elite Hollywood agent and sustainable parkour enthusiast, greensaulted into Geoff Chaser's office and eco-vaulted himself into a supine position on the slick, gray recliner. He held up one slender, manicured finger for silence, and Geoff
  • 6 Hit Songs Written By the Last Person You'd Expect 25 January, 2012, 5:00 am
    By Adam Brown,Chris Dennison  Published: January 25th, 2012  It's no surprise that musicians don't write all of their own songs. Hell, with all the boy bands and Justin Biebers of the world, you assume it's all done on some assembly line anyway. But when you actually sit down to look at the songwriting credits
  • How to Ruin The Best Part of Working From Home 24 January, 2012, 5:00 am
    By Michael Swaim,Cody Johnston,Katy Stoll,Breandan Carter  Published: January 24th, 2012 
  • The 7 Stupidest Things That Make People Proud 24 January, 2012, 5:00 am
    By Christina H  Published: January 24th, 2012  Some people pat themselves on the back for the strangest things. You know, people who think liking one band makes them a superior human being to someone who likes another band. Or people who think being able to copy and paste a quote from Douglas Ada
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47

overheardatcollege

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47

ICanHasCheezBurger

  • It’s not that bad… 23 January, 2012, 6:00 am
    It’s not that bad… Just do a comb over but ebery wun iz gunna stayr at meh! LoL by: KittehCough
  • VIDEO: Feels Good, Man 23 January, 2012, 5:00 am
    Bettur a sholdur itch den a butt (!) itch…
  • HE CALLED ME A “SUE CHEF” 23 January, 2012, 3:00 am
    HE CALLED ME A “SUE CHEF” HOW DOES HE KNOW I COOKED SUE? mebbe ai shudnt haz cookd wif teh evidentz… LoL by: WilliamKeckler
  • Cyoot Kittehs of teh Day: The Apple of My Eye 23 January, 2012, 12:00 am
    Clik heer 2 add a funneh capshun! LoL by: UnknownVia: Caturday
  • Shhhhhh 22 January, 2012, 5:00 pm
    Shhhhhh We’re trying to be modern art u problee wudnt unnerstand. LoL by: worksucks
  • No, no, no 22 January, 2012, 3:00 pm
    No, no, no need to throw it back! I’ll take it! fresh fudz iz teh bestest fudz! LoL by: Sissy
  • The Airport Gang, 22 January, 2012, 11:00 am
    The Airport Gang, not the most intelligent of their species, prepared to lunch on the largest bird they had ever seen. aifinkso dey mite haz a confyoozed… LoL by: onefinekitty
  • GIF: Garfield IRL 22 January, 2012, 8:00 am
    Love cyoot and funneh animal gifs? Check out our brand new gif site!
  • Juzt wundering… 22 January, 2012, 7:00 am
    Juzt wundering… You gotz a baffroom in there..? udderwize ur gunna haz 2 cleen up a mess… LoL by: Lizzy_13
  • VIDEO: Kitteh Makes Out With a Wall 22 January, 2012, 5:00 am
    Wall Cat, iz u dere?
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45

collegehumor

  • News Feed History of the World: January 2012 27 January, 2012, 6:00 am
    1234
  • What Part of "Ultimate Power in the Universe" Was Unclear? 27 January, 2012, 6:00 am
    INTERIOR: DEATH STAR — CONFERENCE ROOM. MOTTI: Any attack made by the Rebels against this station would be a useless gesture, no matter what technical data they’ve obtained. This station is now the ultimate power in the ...
  • The 15 Most Frustrating Situations in Videogames 27 January, 2012, 6:00 am
    There is a new king in the land of broken controllers! After receiving almost 1.3 million votes, the most rage-inducing moment has finally been crowned. I’d like to thank the gaming community for the huge turnout, but in reality, it was probably just a couple guys voting a few hundred thousand times each. So this one’s for you, Paul and Mike. You guys really hit it out of the park. ...
  • Amazing Dad Magic 26 January, 2012, 6:00 am
  • 10 Roommate Red Flags 25 January, 2012, 6:00 am
    Now, clearly we could let you know that Dancing with the Stars, Sex and the City, and the entire Lifetime network would make this list, but those are deal breakers. If you find yourself in that situation, run as fast as you can in the other direction. As far those that we’ve included on this list are concerned, these are what we call the “Gateway Shows” to hours upon hours of mindless, miserable shows that will leave any true man scratching his head or wanting to beat himself over the top of said head…. ...
  • The Problem With Time Travel 25 January, 2012, 6:00 am
    I: Italy, 1474 AD Me: Wow, Leonardo Da Vinci! Leonardo Da Vinci: Yes, it is I. Me: You rule! I come from the future, and in my time, you are known as a majestic artist! Leonardo Da Vinci: Amazing! Tell me, what’s my greatest accomplishment? Me: … Leonardo Da Vinci: Are you serious, kid? Me: The…sta...
  • The 7 Stages of Eating a Burrito 24 January, 2012, 6:00 am
    ...
  • Work Sucks, I Know: Issue #71 24 January, 2012, 6:00 am
    Have a lousy job? Friends, family, and coworkers alike tired of listening to you complain? Well, send your stories here and lift some of the burden off of your already crushed soul. No drug test required. ...
  • Winter Pick-Up Lines 23 January, 2012, 6:00 am
    ...
  • Roommate Confessions: January 16, 2011 23 January, 2012, 6:00 am
    It’s been an entire week since your last confession and there’s been a lot of good, solid sinning going on across the country. Check out the top 6 and don’t forget to submit your misdeeds to our submission page! My roommate my freshman year was a pretty cool guy, but about halfway through the semester he got this asian music arcade game imported from Japan. It’s like guitar hero with no strumming, except the buttons make a ridiculously loud noise every time you push them. He proceeded to play this game until 2AM or later almost every night, even during exams. So the day before it was time to go home for Christmas, I unscrewed the bottom of the controller and filled it with 3-month-old moldy nacho cheese. I then put the screws back in, and he was none the wiser. It’s only a matter of time, bro....
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33

atom

  • John Mulaney Is “New In Town” 19 January, 2012, 2:24 pm
    Although John Mulaney‘s latest Comedy Central stand-up special claims he’s “New In Town,” he’s long been a regular in our little comedy hearts. Here he is, wayyyy back in the hallowed year of 2008, pretending to be from the wayyyy-back ’40s, talking about the even wayyyy-more-back time, the ’30s. I Love the 30′s ChannelGet More: Atom.com | Funny Videos | Tournament | Upload Don’t forget us when you blow up, John. We loved you when. Tune in for the world premiere of John Mulaney‘s “New In Town,” Saturday, January 28 at 10:00/9c: Jokes.com John Mulaney – Home Alone 2 comedians.comedycentral.com John Mulaney Comedians Stand-Up
  • Key And Peele Know What’s REALLY On Obama’s Mind 12 January, 2012, 11:13 am
    Comedy Central’s newest sketch stars, Key & Peele, have deciphered what’s really going on in the brain of the world’s most powerful man and, SPOILER ALERT: it’s totally nuts. It’s so nuts, in fact, that the Oval Office can’t even contain it–Obama and his anger translator, Luther, have taken over the Comedy Central YouTube channel and are putting the country on blast. Check out the video below to watch as Obama completely loses his sh*t, and check out our YouTube channel every Monday in January to see what terrifying things our Commander In Chief is really thinking. Key & Peele premieres Monday, January 31st at 10:30/9:30c!
  • Fanboys Premieres Saturday 11/10c on Comedy Central 22 November, 2011, 2:01 pm
    As the home of many classic Star Wars Fan Movies, we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to let you all know that Fanboys, a love letter to all of you… well… fanboys, is premiering on Comedy Central this Saturday. So grab a turkey (or Bantha, or whatever) sandwich from the fridge, and prepare to travel to a time well before we knew what the prequels held. Watch the trailer below, then check out the rest when Fanboys makes its network television premiere this Saturday at 11/10c on Comedy Central.
  • SPONSORED POST: Transformers 3 Coming To DVD and Blu-Ray Tomorrow 28 September, 2011, 5:22 pm
    Other ChannelGet More: Atom.com | Funny Videos | Tournament | Upload Catch Transformers 3 coming to DVD and BluRay tomorrow. It’s the most fun you’ll ever have watching shape-shifting robots robots blow stuff up. (Except for Transformers 1 & 2, that is. Those are pretty awesome, too.)
  • John Axford’s Ax Mustache Spray Is Here To Save The Day 27 September, 2011, 10:41 am
    Other ChannelGet More: Atom.com | Funny Videos | Tournament | Upload Whiskers on the wane? Avoid follicular inadequacy with Brewers closer John Axford’s new Ax Mustache Spray. Available at all fine lip salons nationwide.
  • Look At This Thing: DIY Pop-Up Video 15 September, 2011, 3:58 pm
    Look At This Thing: To celebrate the return of Pop-Up Video, those wacky nerds at VH1 are allowing you to make your own. [Note that a Linkin Park song is listed under "Back To School" videos. Oh, really?]
  • Look At This Thing: Life According To Larry 9 September, 2011, 3:16 pm
  • Look At This Thing: Insanely Huge Water Balloon Fight 7 September, 2011, 3:26 pm
  • Look At This Thing: Louis CK on George Carlin 6 September, 2011, 3:58 pm
    Yes, it’s 10 minutes long. We realize that’s eons for internetters. Suck it up, pop your adderall and watch this. Seriously.
  • Look At This Thing: Handerpants! 1 September, 2011, 3:46 pm
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20

pointsincase

  • The Perfect Chain Letter 25 January, 2012, 8:20 pm
    Article by Wesley Jansen Your help is needed. Today, you have the opportunity to make a difference in somebody's life. Please read the following story all the way through, and you will see why.Hello. I am a recently divorced mother who is going back to school so that I can earn enough money to support my four children. I am also a hyperventilating, nymphomaniac, ex-prostitute who practices witchcraft and is currently struggling with a severe cocaine addiction. But that is not important. This is a story about someone out there who truly needs your help. His name is Peter.Peter was a nice young man with really high hopes. He had recently earned his history degree with a special emphasis on pre-industrial gardening techniques in the United States from the period of 1833 to 1839, and he was planning on moving to Bangladesh to begin his bright new future. But just when he least expected it, the most stunning woman he had ever seen walked into his life. Her name was Amanda, and she was absolutely beautiful. She was a gorgeous brunette with voluptuous breasts, tight jeans, and soul-penetrating brown eyes that could leave a man helpless and weeping.Weeping and masturbating, Peter lodged himself on the handrail and proceeded on his downward journey. However, he smashed into yet another metal handrail. Peter hadn't been looking for love. He was merely sitting on a park bench one fine sunny morning reading Dante's Inferno when she walked up and introduced herself. When Peter told her that he had a degree specializing in pre-industrial American gardening techniques from the period of 1833 to 1839...and that he planned on moving to Bangladesh, she was immediately intrigued. The two started talking, and time escaped both of them as the conversation took many dynamic angles. Before they knew it, the sun had gone down. Finding themselves emotionally unable to part ways, they fell into each other's arms and ended up having very naughty sex in one of the nearby bushes. Peter gave up his dream of moving to Bangladesh and instead moved in with Amanda on the 17th floor of her apartment building. The next five years were purely amazing. Peter never imagined that he could fall so deeply in love. Everything was perfect...or so he thought.As he was walking down the hallway to Amanda's apartment one day, he passed a tall, well-built, sophisticated-looking man who was heading the other direction. Since Amanda's apartment was the only one at the end of the hallway, a slight feeling of unease began looming over Peter's heart. He opened the door to Amanda's apartment and found her completely naked on the couch, looking extremely pleased and exhausted at the same time...as if she had just taken the rollercoaster ride of her life. Peter was stunned. Amanda got up immediately and put her clothes on. With a somber look on her face, she told Peter to sit down. "Peter, there's something I need to tell you," she said. "What's going on?" Peter replied shakily. "You probably feel very confused right now. I understand that, so I'm going to explain..." Amanda said. "That man you saw walking down the hallway is my old boyfriend from college. He recently moved back to town, but I didn't realize he was here until just a few days ago. I'm sorry Peter, but I've decided to move back in with him. He has become rich and successful, and he is also really great in bed. The last five years were fun, they really were. I truly admire your dedication to learning more about pre-industrial American gardening techniques, but I won't lie to you: I love him, and I secretly always have. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him. I'm sorry, Peter. I guess you should have moved to Bangladesh after all." Peter didn't know what to say. He was speechless. Realizing that the woman of his dreams had never actually loved him and that he would spend the rest of his life in horrifying despair while she lived happily with another man, Peter hurled himself from the 17th floor balcony. Unfortunately, he failed to achieve his goal of splattering himself all over the pavement because he ended up crashing into the metal handrail of a balcony on the 12th story before crumbling helplessly onto a cold tile floor. Bruised, bleeding, and partially crippled, he looked through the window of the 12th floor and just happened to see a happy, young couple engaged in wild sex. As he watched them express their tremendous love for each other in a passionate cyclone of orgasmic fury, a horrible stabbing pain of eternal gloom and soul-crushing sadness pierced his already dying soul. To make matters worse, the sex was so energetic and magnificent that Peter could not help but sprout a boner. Weeping endlessly and masturbating, Peter lodged himself up on the handrail and proceeded on his downward journey. However, on his way down he smashed into yet another metal handrail. This time, it was on the 7th story. Crumbling helplessly onto another cold tile floor, he realized that he had once again failed in his quest to achieve an uninterrupted vertical dive directly into a wretched, bloody, crippling pool of gore on the pavement. Looking through the window of the 7th floor, Peter saw an old couple dancing slowly together in their living room to the tune of an old-fashioned love song. As he picked himself up and positioned himself for another desperate leap, he overheard the couple's conversation. Gretchen: "Oh Henry, we've been together for so many years, and I still love you with every single bit of my heart. You were the only man for me. My undying love for you is just as strong as it was when I first met you." Henry: "Oh, Gretchen. I can't tell you how happy I am that I've spent my entire life with you. If it weren't for the true and endless love that you've given me over the years, I probably would have hurled myself from the 17th floor of this building. Ahahaha."Peter continued his descent. However, there wasn't enough distance between the 7th floor balcony and the ground to kill him. In fact, he didn't actually hit the ground right away. He bounced off the top of a passing car and landed on a broken beer bottle in a dirty alleyway. Peter lay on his back in severe pain, bleeding profusely from the numerous shards of broken glass that were now stuck in his body. He also began twitching and gurgling from the massive number of severed nerves and physical damage he had just sustained. While he was in this condition, a diseased, smelly, flea-infested, stray male dog with patches of missing hair climbed on top of him, licked his face, and peed on him. Peter wanted to push the dog off of him, but he found that he couldn't because both of his arms were broken. And just when Peter thought that things couldn't get any worse, another diseased, smelly, flea-infested, stray dog with patches of missing hair wandered over and climbed on top of him...only this one was female. Much to his chagrin, the male dog began ferociously humping the female dog. Hopeless, heart-broken, bleeding, dirty, infected, crying, twitching, and gurgling, Peter had no choice but to lay there as the two stray dogs did it doggy-style right on top of his chest.This email goes out on Peter's behalf because we are trying to raise enough money to purchase him a bottle of aspirin. Needless to say, this entire incident has left Peter with a slight headache, and we want to try to ease as much of his pain as possible.NOW THAT YOU HAVE READ THIS STORY, YOU MUST FORWARD THIS TO AT LEAST 5 OF YOUR FRIENDS.THIS IS NOT A JOKE. My friend Chad received this email, and he sent it to only four of his friends. Guess what happened? All four of those friends were attacked and kidnapped by hordes of genetically-deformed creatures who took them out to the woods and ate them. After that, a bunch of cross-eyed, toothless, demonic leprechauns marched into Chad's room at night, tied his girlfriend to a chair, and then forced her to watch as they made poor, helpless Chad eat five jars of pickled gherkins that were 10 months past their expiration date. After Chad had eaten every single expired gherkin, they forced him play an entire game of "Stratego," despite the fact that he finds the game extremely boring. When the game was finished, they told him a bunch of outdated, unfunny jokes, and then they pulled his pants down and sodomized him with a broken tree branch. That being said, we desperately need your help to raise enough money to buy Peter a bottle of aspirin. For every 10,000 people who read this and forward it to at least 5 of their friends, one-fourth of a cent will be donated to the "Let's Get Peter a Bottle of Aspirin" charity fund.Before you send this to five of your friends, please scroll down. There are two special messages waiting for you before you reach the bottom:................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................Send this to 5 friends...and that mean-looking, red-headed child who rides his bike past your house and flips you off every day will finally leave you alone. Send this to 10 friends...and you will be fortunate enough to find a discount on fake, rubber cockroaches at Walmart. Not only are they fun to play with during your spare time, but they are also great for scaring people at work. They are a big hit at parties, too. Send this to 20 friends...and all the bad karma you've built up will completely disappear, and all the good karma you've built up will finally be rewarded. Yes, all the wonderful, kind-hearted deeds you've done in your lifetime will finally pay off when you are able to find a brand of Kleenex that DOESN'T break apart when you blow your nose. Send this to 50 friends...and the monthly issue of your favorite magazine, "Men Who Survive Traumatizing 4th of July Accidents...And The Women Who Still Love Them," will arrive a few days earlier. Send this to 100 friends...and the love of your life will appear out of thin air while you're sleeping at night and bounce up and down on your genitals until you blow a good healthy load all over your bed sheets. If you don't have any friends, then you must forward this to 70,000 random people in 42 seconds or else you will die a painful and meaningless death. (There are 0 comments available on the full site version of this article)
  • Beware the Foursquare Mayor and the New York City Fadeout 24 January, 2012, 5:49 am
    Blog by James Parkinson My periodontist asked me to fuck his daughter for him. It was during surgery, a fairly minor procedure. He stuck me with a six-inch dagger of Novocaine and hacked into my gum line to chisel out 30 years of horrific rot. Wiping bloody chunks of flesh onto my lobster bib, he jammed two fingers into my cheek and commenced the interrogation. How old am I? Where do I live? What do I do for a living? "I want you to call my daughter. She broke up with her boyfriend a month ago and she's hot."He dangled the suction wand on my lip like a cocktail garnish, ducking out to grab his daughter's headshot and a prescription slip with her name and number. The headshot was a tragic mess, completely unacceptable. I might have called her if her name was Vicodin and her number "1-800-4-Refills." Sensing my disinterest, Doc stood up, taken aback. Bastard had no right to conjure tension. I'm the one with a hemorrhaging jaw, so I stared him down. I pulled my lip into a "Fuck you" snarl, straining through the local anesthetic and nitrus fog until he yielded, "Well, you're not obligated or anything." Goddamn right. I then noticed he was wearing roller skates, a startling accessory for a licensed medical professional on the Upper East Side. Sir, are you out of your mind? I'm not putting my dick anywhere near those genes. That's love in the City. I had a date lined up a while back, and an hour before meeting the female in question I received "James honey I'm drunk, I don't want you to meet me like this." Andy dictated the text message for me, received from a knockout poptart I met via OkCupid.com, a dating site for bargain hunters, sexual predators and those of us who know that a life well-lived is going to cost some skin. I’d squared up and created a profile: an aggressive personal manifesto, line by line prerequisites for interested applicants and my complete medical history including monthly weigh-ins, cholesterol levels and magnetic resonance imagery. Also a shirtless photo of myself holding a puppy by the ocean. I began composing a reply, something along the lines of a raincheck, when she followed up with, "if you are persistent, however, i will be on stone street for another hour or so." Game on. I stepped into some jeans, splashed my throat with tequila and hit the throttle. I found Keisha on the cobblestones. She was arresting; a Perfect 10 with fuck-me heels and a black dress, onyx eyes and a smoke trail. My spine bolted straight and the neurons in my brain flared like the broadside of a battleship. Here was a live one, and none too soon. It's been a thin season in an ocean that is habitually over-fished.And now there was Keisha, burning through the fog, ferocious and aggressive. She dragooned me to her lair, a dark, anonymous Irish bar, a temple of alcohol and escapism. Her commands came hot and fast. "James darling, I'm going to order water and then I'm going to the ladies room. It's a cover; I need to steal this pint glass. Do you understand me? Now order something strong and drink it." Someone with fangs, finally. A worth adversary. In her absence Andy shrieked out a warning. Checking into Foursquare, he noted that Keisha was the “mayor” of the bar, a critical red flag whipping at the parapet. Too late, she was on me, one leg hooked on my stool, pressed between mine. We locked eyes and cut past the life-story bullshit, whispering only truths about sex and drugs, her fingers tracing my wrist. Everything was hurtling along at a steady clip until she brought up her pug. It was a ridiculous aside, insane and irrelevant. I couldn’t endure this diversion, it threatened every dish on the stove so I kissed her full-on under the glow of a Heineken sign. Her lip gloss was a peculiar strain of venom; she pressed in firm and writhed on her stool like a leopard on a branch. Too drunk for mistakes, we somehow left everything dangling on the edge of a cliff. I walked her across the street and safely to her door; she clutched me by the collar, demanding promises about "doing this again" before vanishing into her building. I shuttled home to Astoria on the N train. And just like that, it was over. She shot me with my own bullet, a little trick called the New York City Fadeout. In a city of eight million people, where everyone is chasing stars and scrambling for cash, it's perfectly legitimate to simply fill your schedule until a love interest simply gives up and fades away. That's the game out here. Love is a beast, and the species’ leading cause of death is exposure. When you realize someone isn't The One, you put them on the fade. This really is best. I'm a Midtown service industry professional and she's a Financial District dollar-chasing bitch with an unhealthy attachment to an inbred glamor pet. I can only imagine what I would have said to her the first time she snapped at me for wearing a hoodie to dinner or leaving a dish in the sink. There is great serenity in singularity, a promise for the unknown, the sunrise of possibility glazing the next horizon. I just have to go get it. (There are 0 comments available on the full site version of this blog entry)
  • Revenge of the Ex 23 January, 2012, 8:21 pm
    Article by Tom Eydmann There are moments in life that go beyond awkward and embarrassing and reach the point that you have to go home and either bury your head in your pillow or laugh like a madman while abusing yourself in whatever way you see fit. Some of these things only happen to women, such as having your skirt stuffed into the back of your underwear while out shopping, or going to a bar with your mom and watching her getting more male attention than you. Some of them only happen to men, such as not noticing a urine stain on the front of your trousers, or pretending to know about soccer before realizing you've been calling them "Arsenal United" for 45 minutes.Bumping into an ex you haven't seen or spoken to for ages, however, is one of those embarrassing moments that happens to both sexes. Unless your ex is one of the few you're (sort of) friends with, at best it will lead to a slightly stifled conversation, and at worse it will cement the fact that you will never ever be friends again. And it's always worse if the ex is with their new partner. Earlier today I was wandering through my hometown when I walked through a door and accidentally came face to face with an ex I hadn't seen in over a year and her new boyfriend.As soon as this happens you have three options:Completely ignore them and press on with your journey.Say a brief hi and nod/false smile but don't stop walking.Stop and chat.If my ex found out what I was carrying, within minutes there would be rumors flying around that I dress up like a woman. As a mature, reasonable, and generally-keen-to-meet-new-people kind of man, I naturally went for the first option and tried to make my way past the happy couple and get into the nearest shop. Unfortunately, the nearest one happened to be one a key cutting shop. Nevertheless, I suddenly became the most avid fan of keys and those little house name signs that they sell... until I heard something that shook me to the core."Tom!"Now I know this girl, and the only reason she wouldn't have done the exact same head-down-walk-quickly evasive move that I did was if she had something or someone she wanted to show off to me. So knowing I was about to turn around and be introduced to Brad Pitt, I quickly did a once over of myself in my mind. All things considered I thought I looked pretty good. But there were three major problems that were about to make me look like a complete tool.1. My FaceNot just my general face—she had already put up with that for plenty of time in the past so she could hardly begin to complain now—no, the problem with my face on that day was that I had finally gotten an electric shaver for Christmas, one of the ones with 56 different blades with names that sound like a state of the art car or dildo. However, I hadn't quite gotten the hang of my space age razor, and I had what could only be described as a gash above my upper lip, making me look like a sort of bloody Hitler. I had also been in a rush and not shaved much over Christmas, what with not having any work. This, coupled with my inexperience with the blade, had led to small clumps of stubble (or fluff, to be more accurate) all around my chin. I looked like a Yeti who was late to start developing.2. My T-ShirtNothing was actually wrong with my t-shirt; in fact it was one of my favorite ones. However, I was very aware that it was a t-shirt she had bought me for my birthday. This will only apply to men, but you know when you start going out with a girl and she buys you lots of clothes (with your money) and says things like, "This will look really good on you" and, "This would go great with those jeans we bought last week"? Essentially what they're doing is trying to change you. It doesn't really make sense, because if they didn't like the way you dressed then why the fuck did they go out with you in the first place? For the record, the reason I say this only applies to men is not because I'm sexist, it's because the only clothes men buy their girlfriends are underwear, and I doubt you ladies would start panicking if you bumped into your ex-boyfriend and realized you were wearing the thong he bought you for Valentine's Day 2009.3. My Shopping BagsThe contents of my carrier bags were four frozen mice for my pet snake, some coleslaw (which I have recently become addicted to), a copy of Loaded magazine (my hobby during January while I attempt to quit smoking is to buy as many non-porn magazines with naked women as possible), and an item of undisclosed women's clothing (an unwanted Christmas present I was returning to a store for my mom). All innocent items, but in my head I figured if my ex found out what I was carrying, within minutes there would be rumors flying around that I dress up like a woman to masturbate while tucking in to a nice mouse salad.Suddenly I realized about 15 seconds had past and I still hadn't turned around. She had also said my name again. I wondered if I could get away with pretending I was my brother. Or a Mexican. Or Prince. Then I felt someone grab my elbow and spin me around before I had had time to compose a "cool" face, so I actually had my mouth hanging open. Great start. "Hi Tom.""Hi Rachel.""How are things?""Really great. You? Did you have a good Christmas?""Yeah it was good. What are you doing in town?""Uhh, just hitting the sales." (I am an extraordinary good liar.)"Us too. Oh Tom, this is Doug.""Hi, how you doing?"What followed was the strongest handshake ever performed as we both tried to out masculine each other. Clearly, all he was thinking about was the fact that I used to dip my wick in his girlfriend, so he had to look better than me at all costs. All I was thinking was, "Please don't notice the t-shirt," and, "I really need to get home before these mice defrost."Anyway, after the handshake I said I really had to be going and sped off, thinking I had gotten away with the aforementioned three things before realizing I now looked like the sort of guy who just likes browsing key shops without buying anything. Because if I ever do lose my keys I really want to be sure what model I would get. Maybe a nice silver one with a rounded hilt. Once I got home that night I had an email from my ex (we blocked each other on Facebook to help the breakup). It went as follows:Hellooo You,Was great to bump into you today. Sorry if things were a bit awkward between you and Doug. Just thought it would be worse not saying anything as he has seen pics of you and stuff so knows who you are.Cannooott believe you still wear that t-shirt I bought you. So many memories from back then. Do you still think of me when you wear it? We should really meet up for dinner soon! Notice you still haven't learned to shave properly lolz!!!!!Also I never knew you liked coleslaw. Sorry for being nosy I just could see it through your shopping bag.Anyways I gotta go. Doug is cooking me dinner, then we're going to watch a show in the city. Give my love to all your little friends.Ciao for now!RachelXxI simply emailed back the following:I can't believe I ever went out with someone who spells hello with three O's.I would love to go out for dinner with you but unfortunately I'm currently on a diet consisting solely of baby mice and coleslaw to help me overcome my porn and transvestite addiction.Ciao for now!Tooom (There are 0 comments available on the full site version of this article)
  • As Your Renewable Energy Czar, I Say We Build the World's Largest Windmill 19 January, 2012, 9:51 pm
    Article by Ryan DeCurtidor "Every city in the world should undertake policy development to support the deployment of renewable energy, recommends a 200-page report from the International Energy Agency (IEA). The report is designed to 'inspire' local public and private officials..." -Renewable Energy FocusThank you for coming to tonight's town hall meeting to discuss Proposition 418, the plan to build Gigantormill, the world's largest windmill. As your Drain Commissioner and self-assigned Renewable Energy Czar, this project has consumed most of my time these last three years. I know you all have a lot of questions and concerns, but before we get to them, I want to say a few words to flush any air that may be in the pipes. That's a little Drain Commissioner joke.Because we will have to drain several wetlands for space to build Gigantormill, I can't promise that Gigantormill won't topple over.Most of you all know me. You know I am a simple man, driven by a simple idea. I believe what this city needs more than adequately functioning drains, or streets free of the raw sewage presently covering them, is a 2000-foot tall windmill. My critics are quick to point out that the power needs of Millford Heights could be met with a windfarm of 100 windmills. Agreed. But, put simply, why overcomplicate things when the work of 100 windmills can be done with one windmill 100 times larger? True, this design is untested. Just like Mrs. Archer's apple and banana pie, am I right? I concede that some fancy, out-of-towner, city-boy, En-jun-Neers predict that only a hurricane force wind could power the Gigantormill. But as your Drain Commisioner and Renewable Energy Czar, I pride myself on being able to think outside the box. These drawings (I did myself) show the Gigantormill with seven solid-state oxygen rocket boosters strapped to the blades. I am currently working on a set of plans that simplifies the solution down to a single, seven times larger solid-state oxygen rocket booster. If you were wondering, the giant rocket also has a name-Boosterloco. I believe that the combined Gigantormill/Boosterloco plan will revitalize our city, and grow our presence in the global market, making our very own Millford Heights the equal of a New York or Paris. Why have 100 monkeys typing at 100 machines when you can have one GIANT monkey typing at a 1966 IBM mainframe?Now I will not stand up here and tell you that there are any actual environmental benefits gained from a giant, rocket-powered windmill. In fact, many expensive pants-wearing, college-dee-gree-having, silver spoon environmentalists predict that entire flocks of bats and migratory birds will die in collisions with Gigantormill. And because we will have to drain several wetlands for space to build Gigantormill, I can't even promise that Gigantormill won't topple over, crushing most of Millford Heights' inhabitants into a grisly citizen mush. But because I live within a specially built bunker inside Farmer Tillie's sledding hill, even if Boosterloco goes a little too loco and incinerates the majority of Millford Heights, which En-jun-Neers tell me it most assuredly will, I will still be around and promise to clear all the carcasses from our drains, be them bat, bird, or human. Also, some jetliners may collide with Gigantormill. Now the meat of the situation. You probably all know that Jan Mills, our local treasurer, has voiced several concerns about how we would actually pay for any of this. I find it interesting that our so-called "Treasurer" is also challenging me in this upcoming emergency drain commissioner election. It's politicking, pure and simple. Ms. Mills, I will admit, has me beat on the numbers game. But here's a number Ms. Mills might be interested in: five. Followed by an eight, then two zeros, then another eight. 58008. Plug that into your calculator, turn it upside down, and tell me that I'm not the right choice for Drain Commissioner. And it's sad the levels that some politicians are willing to stoop. Before Ms. Mills' negative ad campaign is released, I deny it all. I deny that the pictures she found on my computer are mine. I deny ever Photoshopping thongs and panties onto ceiling fans and Dutch wooden windmills. And I most vehemently deny writing into cartoon speech bubbles seductively suggestive sayings like, "You turn me on to Medium." Excuse my drooling right now. That happens when I am truly disgusted by people. All I can offer you is a vision of the future. A vision of Millford Heights where tourists line Main Street spending those tourist dollars and sporting t-shirts that say things like, "You turn me on to Medium." Life will go on as usual. We'll walk our dogs, pay our huge taxes for our renewable energy programs, and constantly look to our feet to avoid the puddles of raw sewage like they're slices of Mrs. Archer's raisin and mango pie. But then, if we look up, we'll gaze out upon a 2,000-foot tall rocket-powered windmill, knowing that we have done our little bit for planet Earth-even if jetliners are occasionally knocked from the sky. I'll open for questions. (There are 0 comments available on the full site version of this article)
  • Tebow-mania and the Gridiron Grace 19 January, 2012, 10:29 am
    Blog by James Parkinson My rivals are scheming, looking over their War Boards somewhere beyond the blue mountains, those cold-activated indigo peaks illuminated in the face of my laptop’s glow. Five Coors Light Silver Bullet shell casings lie scattered across my desk, a sixth live round loaded in my hand. I don’t draft sober. It’s fantasy football season, the opiate of those masses who have turned their backs on paradise.The Java Applet ticks off the final remaining seconds and the draft is afoot. My coworker Katar makes the obvious selection: Adrian Peterson, a vicious Viking halfback and the most consistent performer of the past four years. I would have done the same. Cursing through clenched teeth, I flay the top name on my battle-plan spreadsheet with a slash of black ink. The second pick is Tom Brady, a surprising yet fine choice. A quarterback so early? For pick three, Michael Vick goes, another quarterback, and then another one. My opponents are spooked by the two-quarterback format, and now it’s a run on the bank. I pick Arian Foster seventh overall. Unbelievable; the top performer of 2010 and I own him. My opponents don’t understand the game we are playing. I’m steering an M1 Abrams tank while they’re fixing bayonets. For my football-illiterate readers, my opponents squabbled over domestic beer while I savored brandy from a snifter. My rivals must be spooked by Foster’s injury. He damaged his hamstring in the preseason, but I know better. This is the highest-calibre athlete on the crust of the planet; a symphony of speed, agility and power. He might miss a game or two but I know this man’s healing powers are on par with that of The X-Men’s Wolverine, even after he famously shared his MRI on Twitter. @arianfoster4 those sincerely concerned, I’m doing ok & plan 2 B back by opening day. 4 those worried abt your fantasy team, u ppl are sick@James339Arian, you are commodity, and commodities don’t talk. Now shut up and run.The draft rumbles onward and my opponents maintain committed to mediocrity, hucking clumps of mud at each other, scrambling for second- and third-tier quarterbacks while I adorn my roster with diamonds and pearls. Two top-tier running backs; three top-tier wide receivers. It’s a massacre. The coup de grace is Sebastian Janikowski, a career criminal with a trebuchet for a left leg.The draft is almost over and I still don’t have a quarterback...because I’m not a coward. I’m not saying I don’t need one - I need two - I just refuse to draft out of fear. Victory doesn’t lie at the end of some Yellow Brick Road: risk-taking is essential. The path of least resistance is choked with cars and lined with Walmarts and Ameri-trash chain restaurants like Chili’s. To get anywhere interesting, you have to veer off course, even if you know there are sharks in the water. That takes faith.My cast of quarterback options is highly suspect. I got Donovan McNabb, an exhausted legend, fat and slow and desperate to prove otherwise. That’s all I can count on. I also chose David Garrard, an undisciplined mess with all of the talent in the world and no aptitude to control it. Both would expire early. Garrard was released prior to Opening Day; I guess the brass tired of watching him panic under pressure, overthrowing receivers and making suicide rushes up the gut. McNabb simply wore his age and drowned in the tide of youth.I manned my quarterback position with seasoned mercenary veterans and undercooked rookie prospects for the first few games, trading victories and losses evenly. Then, at long last, my final pick in the draft got promoted to starter. Enter Tim Tebow, a dopey Born Again pretty boy from Florida. A legend in college, his attributes include Clydesdale thighs, a wobbly throwing arm and the heart of a lion.Once Tebow started playing, the Broncos started winning, and so did I. I clinched a playoff spot and dominated the playoffs while Timmy dethroned the powerful Steelers and went down swinging against New England. He’s a polarizing figure, famous for very public displays of affection for his alleged Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ of Nazareth. While I find many Christians irritating, I think it is important to differentiate snake-tongued hypocrites like Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson from earnest do-gooders like Bronco #15. What is there to hate? Faith is admirable for its courage if not for its substance, even for the most craven of atheists. Perhaps it is childish, this man who sincerely believes that the Everlasting Creator of All Matter in the Universe somehow has a vested interest in the National Football League. I’d give it a “maybe.” When Jesus dangled on that cross under His Father’s sky, bleeding from his face, hands and ribs, he had a lot to think about. Pain, certainly, was a consideration, not to mention the task of absorbing the sum punishment of all Mankind’s sins, past, present, and future. Wear his shoes. I know if that were me, pinned up in shame, unable to scratch my nose, my mind would wander. I would prefer to think about football. (There are 0 comments available on the full site version of this blog entry)
  • The Shallow Decline of Today's Woman 17 January, 2012, 3:07 am
    Article by James Boulstridge Human women are the most emotionally, mentally, and physically weak species on the planet. To overcompensate for past suppressions, they've been given the freedom to do anything and get away with it. Basically put, we have a shitstorm on our hands. I'm just saying, if you gave superpowers to an 80-pound college kid aiming to go pro, he wouldn't use them to excel within the ranks of NBA stardom.And then there was rape. So much rape. You see, women hate other people. Their thought processes are too convoluted with all the things wrong with who they are, and this competitive psychology effectively renders any equality between them and anyone else obsolete. Women hate men for paternal issues and the drive to feel relevant by fighting a battle long since concluded. Women hate other women because today's ideal of what a woman should be is a suffocating mess that propels such rivalry. It's the insecurity and desire for everything not anchored to the floor that makes women generally restless, unhappy, and likely to fuck up your shit.Our civilized ways tell them that they need to be preening all the time, and their basic animal nature greenlights the idea because the world is governed by the hot pieces of snatch out there. The shallow principles of men have guided us to this point (yup, we'll take that one on the chin), but do today's women not have enough self-respect to abstain from destroying everything in their wake simply because they've been denied something they want at one particular moment in their lives?If women wanted equality, they would give more blowjobs and help rid the world of war, famine, financial instability, and our own sense of doom over an impending mortality. But we're denied any of those outcomes for the perception of them being whores. Or, more accurately, for all the material possessions they could have were men to reach the point of tearing our hair out for sweet friction against the glans.Dave for president.A friend of mine who you would call an old-age pensioner (if you wanted to find yourself picking teeth off the floor) has lived the life when it comes to women. When you're on a military salary, and bed well over a hundred women in your lifetime, you know a thing or two. One thing he has stood by to this day when talking about how he doesn't understand women (he's 73 now and dating a 30-year-old—I'm not making this shit up) is that back in the 60's and 70's, you could go out and be guaranteed to get laid. Women were more principled back then, more genuine, and they realized that if they started to rebel after we'd just given them their freedom, well then it'd be "back to the dungeons with you."These days women feel justified in being dishonest and manipulative for the sake of squeezing the most out of the men fawning over them. It's a case of scrutinous selection processes and as much hoarding as possible before they get too old for someone to want to fuck them. Whatever happened to us being caring, considerate, funny, good with our hands, and creative, like having mad Photoshop skillz? Instead, once the knot is tied, they set to work changing who we are. It's the thought that "if you loved me...", "if you wanted me to be happy...", "you never grow up...", "you're thinking about your mother when we're having sex again, aren't you..." all equates to: "Gimme loadsa shit!"This guy set the bar, the bastard.In an age where beauty is increasingly seen as the peak of our genetic fitness instead of, erm, intelligence and stuff, women are feeling uglier as the demands thrust upon them become ever more unrealistic. Men have to become progressively more "appropriate" when statistically so many women are unsatisfied with their physique, not least of all the various traits of their genitalia we find so alluring.Nothing wrong here.The one thing that'd make us infinitely happier in life is denied to us so that we cough up what makes women reach the same euphoria. Pussy is consequently becoming the new gold currency, a means for control in a world where men are being devalued so that women can feel more attractive. The two compartments to a woman's brain, "the attention I'm getting" and "the attention I want," are always at war to form a clusterfuck wrecking ball of demon nightmares that drains everything out of a man willing to endure.It's the insecurity and desire for everything not anchored to the floor that makes women generally restless, unhappy, and likely to fuck up your shit. Men let them get away with it because suggesting to women that they're not the most equilibrated of individuals is to not fuck them. That's why I urge you to fight fire with fire. Combat their vaginally-driven verbal outbursts by slapping them in the face with your dick. Not hard. That would be abusive. Just a gentle-to-moderate "BOOF!" across the mouth. Boof aftermath.Unfortunately, women are so incapable of standing up for what they believe in to the point of no longer being admired. Their contingency plan to having someone stand up to them will involve limiting conversations to those from whom they're guaranteed a backing. So it's all phony smiles and fake hellos until you're out of the room, out of earshot, out of state, and on a plane to an international destination, then...Let the games begin.Being entitled to everything has taught them to be fickle with anything. What do women want? Let's implement the train of thought that nobody cares until they're certain themselves. Women can say whatever they want and alter it to coincide with whatever radically fluctuating emotional state they're experiencing at any given time. Once a month they near reproductive fitness and begin to conspire towards mankind's downfall with thoughts of all those baby shower gifts, and as men we're being taught to bend to it. Women this dependent on reassurance and security run rampant due to their lack of understanding of what makes them tick.What do you mean not any more? OH HOW CON-VENIENT!We should encourage them to mean what they say and do, or at least accommodate our misunderstanding of their behavior, without making us feel we're walking a psychological minefield. Today, there is an uncertain cross between rejecting the pussy and fiercely worshipping it, tailored to a pinball emotional spectrum. Any wrongfooting scores your brother's cock in her mouth and your victory prize a half-hearted handjob without spittle for lube.Ladies, we think linearly: nothing's going to change, least of all spitting vinegar into our eyeballs then crying tears when we misunderstand a zigzag approach to a goal we could reach in half the time and none of the thought. Our linear misdemeanors can be broken down into that one moment of pure ecstasy we're endlessly trying to achieve. Here's a hint, it's not Sunday's game...Yes, men think with their dicks, but when we're aroused, we think of nothing but where we'd like it to go. Women think just as much with their vaginas. Who is worthy enough to plough the field and who can stay awake long enough after ejaculation to hear about all the bills that haven't been paid. Women know that what lies in their panties is a psychological weapon more potent than Sarin gas.The effects are much the same.Is a vagina really worth all the hassle? Allow me to provide the alternative: a shortcut to fucking every single woman in the room without having to commit. We already have a fairly good idea of what it looks like by her facial structure. I think the ears and cheeks represent the labia majora and minora, respectively, the nose the clitoral hood, the tip of the nose the clitoris (obviously), and the mouth the fleshpot (the bit we're interested in). Want to know the trim job? Just take a look at the nape of her neck and say you're looking for a diamond necklace to accentuate the back of her ear lobes. Alternatively, you could say, "Diamond necklace! I want to see how your flesh pouch's fur lining will insulate my testicles." Any words after "diamond necklace" will become a jumble within the recesses of her braingasm.Come on fella, you're going to lose all of your friends over what's essentially olive oil, warmed rice, a sock, some sticky-googly eyes, a plastic bag, an elastic band and an inability to look yourself in the mirror for a couple of days. And before you ask...This much love.Love, respect, kindness, devotion, honesty—all earned. Encourage women to represent their gender appropriately as the thoughtful human beings they're supposed to be instead of the loud-mouthed idiots they've become. Their sex does not a good woman make. Yeah they're beautiful, but seems to me we're allowing them to vent hot air out of the pussy for flying higher and mightier than the rest of the world. (There are 0 comments available on the full site version of this article)
  • Example of a Standard Doofus Contract 14 January, 2012, 8:21 pm
    Blog by Ben Link CERTIFICATE OF AMENDMENT                   ofTHE CERTIFICATE OF DOOFUS                   ofMR. YANCEY P. SULLIVAN IV(Under Section 805 of the Doofus Law)           Pursuant to the provisions of Sections 502 and 805 of the Doofus Law, the undersigned hereby certify:           1. The name of the Doofus is MR. YANCEY P. SULLIVAN IV and will hereby be recognized as a ‘Doofus’ or ‘Stupid Person’.            2. The Certificate of Doofus was filed by the Department of State of the State of Georgia on March 15, 2011.           3. The Certificate of Doofus is hereby amended by the addition of the following provision stating MR. YANCEY P. SULLIVAN IV must invoke an attitude that is brainless, dazed, deficient, dense, dim, doltish, dopey, dull, dumb, foolish, futile, gullible, half-baked, half-witted, idiotic, ill-advised, imbecilic, inane, indiscreet, insensate, irrelevant, laughable, ludicrous, meaningless, mindless, moronic, naive, nonsensical, obtuse, out to lunch, pointless, puerile, rash, senseless, shortsighted, simple, simpleminded, slow, sluggish, stolid, stupefied, thick, thick-headed, trivial, unintelligent, unthinking and/or witless.           4. In requirement with the above, MR. YANCEY P. SULLIVAN IV must commit acts of stupidity, whether they be physical demonstrations or verbal utterances, as fixed by the Board of Doofus Directors pursuant to the authority vested in it by the Certificate of Doofus.                       Section 1: Designation and Amount.             Preferred Doofus behavior (a.k.a. ‘acts of stupidity’) shall be 100 per week or 7,000 annually. This is not a maximum. Doofus behavior may be increased or decreased by resolution of the Board of Doofus Directors; provided, that no decrease shall reduce the number of acts of stupidity of Preferred Doofus behavior to a number less than the number of Doofus behavior then outstanding plus the number of Doofus behavior reserved for holidays, special occasions and/or general moments of stupidity.                       Section 2: Voting Rights.           Subject to the provision for adjustment hereinafter set forth, each Doofus is entitled thereof to 100 votes on all matters submitted to a vote, just long as they’re in accordance with the provisions of Sections 502 and 805 of the Doofus Law.                       Section 3. Certain Restrictions.           No Doofus may violate Doofus Law. In addition, the Board of Doofus Directors requires each Doofus must not:                  (i) respect the boundaries of non-Doofuses, whether those boundaries be physical, emotional, intellectual or otherwise.                  (ii) declare or pay monies for goods and services UNLESS said monies are handcrafted or arranged to form a new currency using found items or other knickknacks by a certified Doofus.                  (iii) solve problems or help non-Doofuses in any way UNLESS it is to gain enough trust in the non-Doofus(es) to be invited into their life whereby you may thrust the non-Doofus(es) into a state of confusion, absurdity and general chaos.                       Section 4. Consolidation, Merger, Marriage, Etc.            The Chairman of the Doofus Board of Directors must approve any and all consolidations, mergers, marriages, combinations or other transactions in which the Doofus works, lives or interacts with another Doofus or other Doofuses.                       Section 5. Amendment.            The Certificate of Doofus shall not be amended in any manner which would materially alter or change the powers, preferences or special rights of Doofus so as to affect them adversely without the affirmative vote of the Board of Doofus Directors.                       Section 6. Board Approval.            This Certificate of Amendment of the Certificate of the Doofus MR. YANCEY P. SULLIVAN IV was approved by the Board of Doofus Directors on March 15, 2011.           IN WITNESS WHEREOF, we have executed and subscribed this Certificateof Amendment, and do affirm the foregoing as true, this 15th day of March, 2011,under penalties of perjury.                                    Name:/s/ James E. SillypantsTitle: Chairman of the Doofus Board of Directors                                             Name:  Salamander M. Montehume IITitle:  Senior Vice President Doofus (There are 0 comments available on the full site version of this blog entry)
  • The Ugly Truth: Childhood Films Through Adult Eyes 14 January, 2012, 2:33 pm
    Article by Matthew Chard When I kissed a girl for the first time it seemed like the most magically passionate moment anyone could possibly experience. Looking back on it, though, I realize that dancing around a school disco in an emptied gymnasium while Boyz II Men played in the background isn't exactly the pinnacle of romance.Yes, hindsight can be a cruel mistress at times, and unfortunately, this phenomenon extends beyond slow-dancing with a boner, and into the world of movies. Films that seemed great when we were kids, chowing down Fruit Loops or trying to masturbate in privacy, can seem less than stellar when watched through cruel adult eyes. To illustrate this point, I decided recently to re-watch a random collection of much-loved movies from my childhood and teenage years, and compare my current opinions to my thoughts upon original viewing.Now that I have finished watching my childhood being repeatedly jizzed on by the modern world, here are the results.BatmanChild: Batman is awesome, even if he doesn't have Robin helping him like on TV.Adult: Michael Keaton plays Bruce Wayne as if he's Ross from Friends. I also find it hard to ignore that Batman is hooking up with Eminem's mom from 8 Mile.Milo and OtisChild: An amazing story of friendship and survival.Adult: I am confident that at least 48 small and adorable animals must have died while making this film.The Wizard of OzChild: Midgets + flying monkeys + cyborg woodsman with an axe = epic win.Adult: A cinematic classic, even if after reading Alan Moore's Lost Girls I find I can't watch it without picturing Dorothy getting bummed by the Tinman while jerking off a horse.The Dark CrystalChild: A fantastic fantasy film as exciting as it is scary.Adult: I can clearly see the puppet's strings, yet this movie still scares the crap out of me. I'm positive that the Skeksis are somehow responsible for plotting Jim Henson's death.Superman 4Child: Yay, another Superman movie!Adult: Superman's primary villain is an orange-skinned man in a black leotard, whose main form of attack is scratching. On the upside, at least Supes doesn't have a kid.Indiana Jones and the Last CrusadeChild: Archaeology kicks ass.Adult: A fun movie, but signs of the crapulence to come in Indy 4 do raise their heads from time to time. Whilst it is not up there with nuking the fridge, taking down Nazi fighter planes with an umbrella and a flock of seagulls isn't exactly cinematic gold either.LabyrinthChild: A great film, but goblins scare the hell out of me.Adult: A great film, but David Bowie's codpiece scares the hell out of me.Batman ReturnsChild: Penguin is creepy. Catwoman is sexy. Batman is back!Adult: It is ironic that the film is called Batman Returns when Batman appears in it for about three minutes and fifteen seconds. I will admit to rubbing one out over Michelle Pfeiffer, though.Home AloneChild: Being left at home by myself would be the best thing ever.Adult: In fairness, I probably would have left McCauley Culkin behind, too (then given Michael Jackson his address and a six-pack of Hard Lemonade).Teenage Mutant Ninja TurtlesChild: One of my favorite cartoons is now a live-action movie! Cowabunga!Adult: Fuck you, Vanilla Ice.GhostbustersChild: Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters!Adult: The effects may have dated, as has Sigourney Weaver's perm, but Ghostbusters remains a brilliant film. I currently await Dan Ackroyd making a third film in the franchise without Bill Murray, and sodomizing my precious memories in the process.E.T.Child: "Penis Breath" is the best insult of all time.Adult: A great family film with some real heart-warming moments. Just don't talk to me about the Atari game (worst. Birthday present. Ever).Watership DownChild: Look at all the cute fluffy AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!Adult: AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!WillowChild: I love midgets.Adult: If Ron Howard made another Willow film then the world might be spared another crappy Dan Brown adaption. Two birds with one stone, really.Batman ForeverChild: Batman and Jim Carrey in the same movie; what could possibly go wrong?Adult: Quite a lot, actually.Jurassic ParkChild: Dinosaurs go crazy and kill a bunch of people, including one who is sitting on a toilet. This movie needs a sequel. Adult: May have been very wrong with my calls for a sequel. Making Newman one of your main characters in an action movie was probably something of a misstep, too (seriously, did anyone else get a Nedry action-figure for Christmas that year?).JumanjiChild: Best board game ever.Adult: You know you've done something wrong when you make a Robin Williams movie and he isn't the hairiest character in it.The Nutty ProfessorChild: Eddie Murphy plays a bunch of fat people and farts a lot. Comedy gold.Adult: I miss Dave Chappelle. For that matter, what the hell happened to Eddie Murphy? I personally blame the Spice Girls.Independence DayChild: Aliens come to Earth and Will Smith totally kicks their pesky asses.Adult: Actually, Jeff Goldblum kicks their pesky asses. With a Mac. That's somehow compatible with their alien spaceships. Steve Jobs really was ahead of the game.Street FighterChild: My favorite video game becomes a feature film, with all the best characters being represented. You're going down, Bison!Adult: Quick, change ze channel!Demolition ManChild: Stallone versus Snipes in a futuristic battle royale. Bring it on.Adult: Whenever I watch this film I imagine a Hollywood producer flicking through a copy of Brave New World. "Hey, this book has some cool ideas, but you know what would make the story really good..."Mortal KombatChild: Wow, this is even better than Street Fighter.Adult: Turns out a lot of things are better than Street Fighter (e.g. terminal syphilis).ArmageddonChild: If an asteroid does ever head for Earth then I hope a group of badasses like Bruce Willis and his gang can be found in time.Adult: In this film Ben Affleck puts an animal cracker down Steve Tyler's daughter's underwear. After that, it is hard to really care about anything anymore.Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom MenaceChild: Star Wars is back! And it's...well it's, um...Adult: Dear God no.The Sixth SenseChild: Oh my God, Bruce Willis is a ghost!Adult: Oh my God, this was directed by the guy who made The Last Airbender!The MatrixChild: A stunningly original film that makes one question his own reality.Adult: A film ripped off from Japanese anime and underground comic books that makes me question how the douches fucked it up so hard in the sequels.Batman and RobinChild: Wow, another Batman film. This time with Arnie in it. I guess this should be pretty sweet....Adult: *Brain explodes* (There are 0 comments available on the full site version of this article)
  • Low and Slow Occupy Chili 14 January, 2012, 11:06 am
    Blog by James Parkinson This morning I set out to reinvent the concept of chili. I went to the grocery store without a map. Recipes are for cowards. Cooking is an act of violent creation. I'm not selling square hamburgers and meals that promise "happiness" to children in the form of congealed fat and a colorful plastic choking hazard. When I cook, I offer nothing but a promise that whatever you taste, it will be for the first time.My game plan didn't fit the accepted definition of "chili," but I don't give a particular shit about the gutless opinions of Food Network peons. I started with a traditional base of diced tomatoes, tomato paste, kidney beans, white beans, garlic cloves, a bit of cumin and lots of onion. I have respect for the onion, a vicious, nasty species, king of the vegetable kingdom. Onions fight back against the dicing blade, releasing airborne countermeasures that irritate the tear ducts and send rookie knife handlers running for the eyewash station. Two-hundred-pound weight advantage, standing in my own house, wielding a stainless-steel Japanese blade, and I'm the one crying. Veggies in the pot, I unpacked the meat.I cubed two large rib-eye steaks, rolled a couple dozen ground pork balls and diced up half a pack of applewood smoked bacon, all free range. We (Man) conquered the food chain long ago, so I have no qualms about eating meat. I do, however, insist any animal that dies at my hand be permitted to spend its life grazing freely under God's sky. There is nothing so craven as the consumption of tortured meat. The final touch was half of a can of chipotle chilies, a spicy little catalyst designed to make the whole thing light up like a barge fire. I flipped the Crock on low and Andy began to sing in my pocket. It was Bruner calling, eager to go on a long bike ride one last time before summer withers. There was plenty of time; chili takes about eight hours cooking low and slow to transmogrify from a mob of independent, mercenary ingredients into a cohesive movement of single-purposed flavor. I set Andy's chili alarm to chirp at 4 p.m., grabbed My Therapist and set out.When I rolled up to Bruner's stoop he was hunched over his ride, which was wheels-up for maintenance. His left hand was holding an oily rag and a bottle of degreaser. His right hand was furiously scrubbing grime and dirt from his bicycle chain with his ex-girlfriend's pink Oral-B Contour Clean Indicator tooth brush. I leaned My Therapist against the fence and bought deli coffee across the street while Bruner tightened everything with allen wrenches and filled our wheels with compressed air. We shot the shit, talked about pussy for a half minute and set out for Zuccotti Park, shredding pavement on our way to the Occupy Wall Street protests. The propaganda cable cabal had cut some self-interested footage of the event; we wanted to see for ourselves what these characters were up to. You could hear them before you saw them, on account of the filibustering 24-hour drum circle. I came for the chimes of freedom, but these dudes were meth-addled percussion addicts. We locked our bikes to a barrier fence and cut through the park past aging hippies, scrubby punk-rock anarchists, vulturous photographers and media operatives, stoic police officers and borderline personalities looking for a place to enjoy their manic phase. The occupants of the park had one vaguely unifying descriptor: poor and pissed. Beyond that they were a muddled collection of unkempt riffraff.Those with a clear, coherent message and an eternally valid point of view on socioeconomic justice were flanked at all sides by vapid bongo players and willfully unemployed miscreants who were falling over themselves to undermine their own movement. The Williamsburg Bridge shuffled beneath our homeward wheels. Less than a mile from the epicenter of Mankind's latest stab at a fair shake for as many people as possible, and I'm already thinking about the banal minutia of my day-to-day, how I have to be up early tomorrow and need to get to bed before 9. I'm thinking about laundry day approaching, and how to avoid my boss, and that I need to transfer money into my savings account, and that I just stood in the heart of change and felt nothing. It's too bad. There's a lot of promise, with mirror protests popping up in every major city, including tiny satellite gatherings in small towns across the country. The reach of this movement even extends across the ocean, drawing crowds from San Francisco to London. I heard they even got the pigs to use tear gas in Rome. Funny thing about tear gas: it's a coward's weapon designed for peaceful targets with valid, defensible points of view. I hope this feeble alliance holds its ground. I run too hot for this shit. If I had my way, I'd set up a guillotine for the FOX News assholes and shorten a few hedgefund managers at the neck, French Revolution style. But we don't live in that world anymore, Ghandi set the gold standard. These kids need to keep doing whatever they are doing, applying pressure and heat, low and slow until something gives. Bruner and I parted ways wordlessly at the corner. I jangled my keys through both apartment doors and shouldered My Therapist up the stairs and into the kitchen. Andy startled chortling like a mad man. Eight hours of change and the chili was done. The cover of the Crock Pot was beaded with moisture; shackling back a pocket of steam. The surface of the chili chattered with bubbles. I sniffed the air point-blank: sweet, smoky bouquet of tomato, thick and meaty, latent heat. The back of my throat squared for a fight. I test drove with a wooden spoon, stirring against resistance, loading up with chunks of perfectly stewed beef and pork, sporadic vegetables and cluttered beanery. Pausing to let it cool, eyes closed and mind open, I chewed slowly, savoring the taste and texture. Revolution. (There are 0 comments available on the full site version of this blog entry)
  • Homecoming: Part 1 12 January, 2012, 10:06 am
    Blog by Casey Freeman  (Almost the same type of Culture Shock I received upon returning home) When you become a world famous writer and ESL professor, you get these things called "Two Month Paid Vacations." So I decided to pack my luggage and head to the most exotic and exciting place in the world: the USA.My flight from Seoul to my sort-of-home Denver, Colorado took about 36 hours door-to-door. The first leg of my journey took about 12 hours from Seoul to LA, with a 13-hour layover in the City of Hollywood (or whatever cheesy nickname that town has.)I came of age in New York City, which is supposed to mean I have a strong distaste for LA, but I think that city rules -- except for needing to drive everywhere. Bones, one of my bestest best friends in the world, lives in LA and he volunteered to pick me up from the airport and entertain me for about ten hours. And ten hours is all you need to enjoy some of the finer points of LA.First, Bones and I hugged it out. Then, it was time for Chipotle. Korea's cuisine is awesome and cool and everything, but their Mexican food sucks. And I know Chipotle isn't the best Mexican in the world, but I don't care. I still wanted it. Every time one of my friends goes home to the USA or UK, I always ask, "What are you going to eat first?" I've been compiling answers for a long time. Most of the time it's something a mother-figure cooks or steak or something. I decided: Mexican semi-fast food.After getting my Barbacoa burrito with black beans and medium-and-mild-spicy salsa, I ate my delicious meal. Bones ate his too. And twas just as delicious as I dreamed.Upon finishing our burritos, Bones informed me there was a surprise for me. In human form. Who could it be? A girl? One of my ex-girlfriends? A Playboy Playmate? Dance lessons from Justin Timberlake? Well, we needed to grab some caffeine to wake my ass up. I don't know if anybody else has experienced this type of reverse culture shock when returning to your own country after a year and a half abroad, but everybody in LA looked familiar to me. Is that dude on The WB? Did I used to date that girl? Is that the Olympic Team I'm supposed to care about? Did I go to high school with that thing?I figured some coffee would make everybody's day better. But I'm not really a picky coffee person. Usually, I can get by on a Coke Zero or a spoonful of instant coffee grounds, but I wanted to visit a specific Starbucks. There are a million billion trillion coffee choices, but I'll be damned if I go to LA and not see a celebrity. I heard George Clooney and some other famous folks drank their java at this place. But there was one very special person I needed to see... (KC: "Eat your weird-ass heart out heart out Julian Asange." ASHLEY: "Eat your heart out Gavin Pitts.")After some hugs and high fives, and a butt shot world-famous PIC blogger Ashley Garmany and I hung out for a little bit. The last time I hung with PIC folks, I ended up buying all of Paul Frank's drinks and getting high on my rooftop with Xavier. This time, AG bought Bones and me some coffee. I was going to tip her, but, no American money. I'm sure another "tip" could have been used, but I invited her to our headlining event...And also Bones' super special surprise for me.I only spent a few minutes with Ashley, but she's just as cool as her writing. She's funny, nice and I can see why Hollywood movie stars make special stops to her specific Starbucks. I figured I'd have a ton of time to talk with her and put the moves on her when she closed up shop and met me out for the Main Event. Also, I needed to leave, because in case you were wondering, all the Korean ladies added together don't have boobs the size of AG's, and the longer we stayed, the harder it would be for me to make eye contact with her. (If she wants to talk about my relentlessly coolness and Colin Farrell-esque looks, that would be cool.)We walked down the street and again, I saw somebody I recognized. Was it just another tall white dude? I asked, "Bones, is that Timmy Tim Tim?" (A bouncer we both cracked skulls with in Boulder, Colorado and my roommate in NYC.) "There my friend, is your surprise," Bones answered. I knew we were in for some serious drinking then, and possibly by the time Ashley finished her shift, I'd be too hammered to turn on my famous KC Charm. But, I'd have some fun memories nonetheless.Before that, we needed to hit one of my favorite bars of all time: Jumbo's Clown Room. No, it's not a weird circus bar. It's a strip mall bar with lingerie dancers, but the best parts about this establishment are: 1. nobody pays attention to the strippers, 2. the girls pick music like Radiohead or Nine Inch Nails instead of annoying hip hop stuff, 3. drinks are cheap and 4. if you tip the girls, you're the weird person -- instead of the other way around. But Timmy Tim Tim has never been to a strip club he didn't like, so we sat right in front and they tossed their hard-earned dollars to the hard working girls. I didn't, because, again, I had no American money. During ass shakings, we caught up with each other and the other two pounded their drinks and I was ridiculed for my sissy drinking skills. Bones is quitting the bouncing game soon. TTT's "sort of" wife might be running guns or drugs in Africa. There are no KC Jrs running around Korea. Next, we hit Bones' place of employment. The Saddle Ranch: kind of a doucey spot with country music and a mechanical bull. Again, the Americans lapped me with their drinking prowess. The giant boobs of the women distracted me. Oh well.After these other warm-up drinks, and meeting Bones' special ladyfriends, it was time for the main event: Porn Star Karaoke. Yup, you read that right. Somewhere in LA, on Tuesdays or Wednesdays, pornstars go to this dive bar and sing karaoke.  My porn viewing is pretty standard, I guess. I didn't recognize anybody there. But I'm not really up to date on who's hot in the porn world. But, somebody did recognize the "biggest" star of them all:   (Two of these three hairy dudes have worked in the porn industry. One of them is just a boring old writer.)Unfortunately, Ron Jeremy didn't sing anything. But he was pretty cool. Timmy Tim Tim knew him from past non-adult movies, so he chatted him up. I just gawked around like an idiot expecting some big-boobied XXX stars to waltz in and look for a well bred, well read stud to practice sex with. However, I guess it was mostly male porn stars this night. There were a bunch of girls, but I didn't know any of them. And why the hell would I know male porn stars?The other person I expected to stroll into the bar, jump out of her clothes and into my arms also didn't show up: Ashley Garmany. After countless directions and requests for her to come to this bar, she bailed. Oh, her excuse the next day via Facebook was, "Your friends didn't answer text messages."  But still. Come on. You're better than that. Get your GPS to get your sweet ass over there!After closing time, Bones wanted to have some "adult time" with his ladyfriend. Timmy Tim Tim wanted to run away from cops, picnic, drink and sleep on the beach. I wanted to get to the airport on time without getting arrested. So Bones ditched us, our beautiful chauffeur dropped TTT off at the beach and then the two of us talked for about life, the universe and everything for about 45 minutes. And almost as quick as it started, my mini-vacation layover in LA came to an end. I saw two of my best friends, some strippers, pornstars, a favorite writer and the literal stars (too polluted in Seoul to see most of them). I banged neither a porn star nor a PIC writer. But, as I've said many times, there's always next time...  January 26th-ish, I shall return. And in the meantime, there were more American adventures to be had. Stay tuned! (There are 0 comments available on the full site version of this blog entry)
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12

stuffwhitepeoplelike

  • Adorn your wall with this really cool poster. 3 February, 2011, 10:50 am
    Since Whiter Shades of Pale came out back in November, a lot of people have voiced how much they love the book’s scarily accurate line drawings, which call out the prototypical white denizens of cities from Austin to Atlanta and Seattle to Santa Fe. Now comes your chance to own them in poster form (18 x 24). Regrettably not all of the drawings could be featured here, but it’s still quite possibly one of the coolest lineups of whiteness ever assembled. Update: This contest is now closed. thanks to the 1,000+ people who entered! In order from left to right: Chicago (first two), Atlanta, Austin, San Francisco, Brooklyn, Santa Fe, Toronto, Boston, Seattle, and New York.
  • Adorn your wall with this really cool poster. 3 February, 2011, 10:50 am
    Since Whiter Shades of Pale came out back in November, a lot of people have voiced how much they love the book’s scarily accurate line drawings, which call out the prototypical white denizens of cities from Austin to Atlanta and Seattle to Santa Fe. Now comes your chance to own them in poster form (18 x 24). Regrettably not all of the drawings could be featured here, but it’s still quite possibly one of the coolest lineups of whiteness ever assembled. Update: This contest is now closed. thanks to the 1,000+ people who entered! In order from left to right: Chicago (first two), Atlanta, Austin, San Francisco, Brooklyn, Santa Fe, Toronto, Boston, Seattle, and New York.
  • Six Gifts to Guarantee a White Christmas 15 December, 2010, 4:00 pm
    Stumped about what to give that special white person in your life this holiday? Look no further. 1. Product made by someone named Tom. Nobody seems to make a better product than a man named Tom. The first popular white Tom is the man behind Tom’s of Maine. The other famous Tom for white people is the one who created TOMS Shoes. Every time you buy a pair of these canvas shoes they donate a pair to a child in need in the third world. Of course, instead of buying a pair of shoes, a white person could just donate the money they were going to use on shoes to the TOMS charity and let two people in the third world get new shoes. But that’s not a realistic possibility, not with summer right around the corner. 2. Single-malt scotch. With beer snobbery mastered and wine snobbery all but abandoned, white people have been forced to find a new alcohol. It’s got European heritage, it’s expensive, college-age white people avoid it, and perhaps most importantly, crotchety old white men love it.   3. Gift card to Anthropologie. You might have walked past it a few times at your local mall and wondered how they crammed the interior of a late-nineteenth century barn into a shopping center that was built in 2005. It is the store equivalent of a Wes Anderson film, which certainly helps to explain its appeal, but it is also the most efficient way for white women to look and (hopefully) live like Amélie.   4. World music. If it’s played loud enough at work or at a dinner party, people are almost guaranteed to say, “Who is this?” To which the white person can say, “You know, when I was in Bolivia, I really got into this flute music. I got this CD from a group of musicians on the streets of La Paz.”   5. DVD of Christopher Guest film. Rather than try to add to the comedy of these movies, your best bet around white people is to simply profess your love for all that Christopher Guest has done. If you want to take it to the next level, you should casually say, “I heard Christopher Guest is going to be directing an indie version of Spinal Tap; it’s set in Portland.” You might want to keep a brown paper bag nearby for the inevitable hyperventilation that will follow this announcement. 6. A copy of Whiter Shades of Pale. Have you seen the line drawings inside and the trailer? Enough said. Amazon Barnes and Noble.com Borders.com IndieBound Random House
  • Six Gifts to Guarantee a White Christmas 15 December, 2010, 4:00 pm
    Stumped about what to give that special white person in your life this holiday? Look no further. 1. Product made by someone named Tom. Nobody seems to make a better product than a man named Tom. The first popular white Tom is the man behind Tom’s of Maine. The other famous Tom for white people is the one who created TOMS Shoes. Every time you buy a pair of these canvas shoes they donate a pair to a child in need in the third world. Of course, instead of buying a pair of shoes, a white person could just donate the money they were going to use on shoes to the TOMS charity and let two people in the third world get new shoes. But that’s not a realistic possibility, not with summer right around the corner. 2. Single-malt scotch. With beer snobbery mastered and wine snobbery all but abandoned, white people have been forced to find a new alcohol. It’s got European heritage, it’s expensive, college-age white people avoid it, and perhaps most importantly, crotchety old white men love it.   3. Gift card to Anthropologie. You might have walked past it a few times at your local mall and wondered how they crammed the interior of a late-nineteenth century barn into a shopping center that was built in 2005. It is the store equivalent of a Wes Anderson film, which certainly helps to explain its appeal, but it is also the most efficient way for white women to look and (hopefully) live like Amélie.   4. World music. If it’s played loud enough at work or at a dinner party, people are almost guaranteed to say, “Who is this?” To which the white person can say, “You know, when I was in Bolivia, I really got into this flute music. I got this CD from a group of musicians on the streets of La Paz.”   5. DVD of Christopher Guest film. Rather than try to add to the comedy of these movies, your best bet around white people is to simply profess your love for all that Christopher Guest has done. If you want to take it to the next level, you should casually say, “I heard Christopher Guest is going to be directing an indie version of Spinal Tap; it’s set in Portland.” You might want to keep a brown paper bag nearby for the inevitable hyperventilation that will follow this announcement. 6. A copy of Whiter Shades of Pale. Have you seen the line drawings inside and the trailer? Enough said. Amazon Barnes and Noble.com Borders.com IndieBound Random House
  • Whiter Shades of Pale: The Book Trailer 22 November, 2010, 11:41 am
    Whiter Shades of Pale is out tomorrow! How could we resist celebrating with a round of White Person Travel Bingo? Play your own round of White Bingo: View this document on Scribd Buy the book: Amazon Barnes & Noble Borders.com IndieBound
  • Whiter Shades of Pale: The Book Trailer 22 November, 2010, 11:41 am
    Whiter Shades of Pale is out tomorrow! How could we resist celebrating with a round of White Person Travel Bingo? Play your own round of White Bingo: View this document on Scribd Buy the book: Amazon Barnes & Noble Borders.com IndieBound
  • Mark your calendars, America. 15 November, 2010, 3:36 pm
    Christian will launch his Whiter Shades of Pale book tour next Tuesday (publication day) in Brooklyn, followed by 12 more cities. Don’t miss it! NEW YORK Launch Party: Tuesday, November 23rd 7:00pm, Powerhouse Arena 37 Main Street, Brooklyn, NY 11201 LOS ANGELES: Monday, November 29th 7:00pm, Book Soup 8818 Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood, CA 90069 SAN DIEGO: Wednesday, December 1st 7:30pm, Warwick’s 7812 Girard Ave. La Jolla, CA 92037 SAN FRANCISCO: Thursday, December 2nd 7:00pm. Books Inc. 2251 Chestnut St., San Francisco, CA 94123 BERKELEY, CA: Friday, December 3rd 7:30pm, Pegasus Books 2349 Shattuck Ave., Berkeley, CA 94704 PORTLAND, OR: Sunday, December 5th 5:00pm, Powell’s Books 1005 W. Brunside, Portland, OR 97210 SEATTLE: Tuesday, December 7th 7:00pm, Elliott Bay Books 1521 10th Ave., Seattle, WA 98122 LOS ANGELES: Thursday, December 9th 8:30pm, Los Angeles Library Central Library, 630 W. 5th St. Los Angeles, CA 90071 BOULDER, CO: Wednesday, January 12th 7:30pm, Boulder Bookstore 1107 Pearl St., Boulder, CO 80302 DENVER: Thursday, January 13th 7:30pm, Tattered Cover Book Store 1628 16th St., Denver, CO 80202 AUSTIN: Friday, January 14th 7:00pm, BookPeople 603 N. Lamar Blvd., Austin, TX 78703 MADISON, WI: Tuesday, January 18th 7:00pm, Borders 3750 University Ave., Madison, WI MINNEAPOLIS: Wednesday, January 19th 7:00pm, Magers & Quinn 3038 Hennepin Ave. S, Minneapolis, MN 55408 CHICAGO: Thursday, January 20th 7:00pm, Book Cellar 4736-38 North Lincoln Ave., Chicago, IL 60625
  • Mark your calendars, America. 15 November, 2010, 3:36 pm
    Christian will launch his Whiter Shades of Pale book tour next Tuesday (publication day) in Brooklyn, followed by 12 more cities. Don’t miss it! NEW YORK Launch Party: Tuesday, November 23rd 7:00pm, Powerhouse Arena 37 Main Street, Brooklyn, NY 11201 LOS ANGELES: Monday, November 29th 7:00pm, Book Soup 8818 Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood, CA 90069 SAN DIEGO: Wednesday, December 1st 7:30pm, Warwick’s 7812 Girard Ave. La Jolla, CA 92037 SAN FRANCISCO: Thursday, December 2nd 7:00pm. Books Inc. 2251 Chestnut St., San Francisco, CA 94123 BERKELEY, CA: Friday, December 3rd 7:30pm, Pegasus Books 2349 Shattuck Ave., Berkeley, CA 94704 PORTLAND, OR: Sunday, December 5th 5:00pm, Powell’s Books 1005 W. Brunside, Portland, OR 97210 SEATTLE: Tuesday, December 7th 7:00pm, Elliott Bay Books 1521 10th Ave., Seattle, WA 98122 LOS ANGELES: Thursday, December 9th 8:30pm, Los Angeles Library Central Library, 630 W. 5th St. Los Angeles, CA 90071 BOULDER, CO: Wednesday, January 12th 7:30pm, Boulder Bookstore 1107 Pearl St., Boulder, CO 80302 DENVER: Thursday, January 13th 7:30pm, Tattered Cover Book Store 1628 16th St., Denver, CO 80202 AUSTIN: Friday, January 14th 7:00pm, BookPeople 603 N. Lamar Blvd., Austin, TX 78703 MADISON, WI: Tuesday, January 18th 7:00pm, Borders 3750 University Ave., Madison, WI MINNEAPOLIS: Wednesday, January 19th 7:00pm, Magers & Quinn 3038 Hennepin Ave. S, Minneapolis, MN 55408 CHICAGO: Thursday, January 20th 7:00pm, Book Cellar 4736-38 North Lincoln Ave., Chicago, IL 60625
  • From Whiter Shades of Pale (#63): My So-Called Life 11 November, 2010, 10:33 am
    Though very specific to white people who were going through an awkward phase in 1995 (basically anyone between eleven and forty), My So-Called Life’s resonance cannot be overstated. Simply say the words Jordan Catalano. Say them to any white woman, gay white male, or superconfident-in-his-sexuality, irony-loving straight white male, and watch them swoon. You seriously do not even need an explanation about the show. Actually, if someone asks your name, you should say it’s Jordan Catalano and that you’ve never heard of the show. You will be the hit of the party, provided you let everyone in on the joke by the middle of the evening. Otherwise you will probably be known as a self-centered, dyslexic jerk. The show itself was seen as revolutionary for its frank and honest dealings with same- sex relationships, drug and alcohol use among teenagers, and domestic abuse. However, the part of the show that truly bonds white people together is not their common experience of exploring these issues. No, it’s the collective sense of regret for mid-nineties fashion. “Do you remember the episode where Rayanne had the drug overdose?” “Sort of. Do you remember that choker necklace she wore? What were we thinking?” “I’ve actually had a drug prob—” “And the scrunchies? Are you kidding me?” So rather than attempting to use the social aspect of the show to forge a deep connection with white people, you should simply revert to the number-one rule when dealing with white people: throw a themed party. As a male, if you arrive with a white T-shirt, ripped jeans, and a plaid shirt tied around your waist you should be guaranteed, at the very least, a make-out session. As a female, show up with a plaid skirt, combat boots, and your hair parted down the middle. Though this outfit would normally get you branded as a lesbian, tonight it will have quite the opposite effect. Note: You may notice that all the music from this era is very depressing. Do not worry about it having a negative effect on your party. White people have an amazing ability to get drunk and then all happily sing, in unison, a song about suicide. Whiter Shades of Pale: The Stuff White People Like, Coast to Coast from Seattle’s Sweaters to Maine’s Microbrews, coming 11/23! Amazon Barnes & Noble Borders.com IndieBound
  • From Whiter Shades of Pale (#63): My So-Called Life 11 November, 2010, 10:33 am
    Though very specific to white people who were going through an awkward phase in 1995 (basically anyone between eleven and forty), My So-Called Life’s resonance cannot be overstated. Simply say the words Jordan Catalano. Say them to any white woman, gay white male, or superconfident-in-his-sexuality, irony-loving straight white male, and watch them swoon. You seriously do not even need an explanation about the show. Actually, if someone asks your name, you should say it’s Jordan Catalano and that you’ve never heard of the show. You will be the hit of the party, provided you let everyone in on the joke by the middle of the evening. Otherwise you will probably be known as a self-centered, dyslexic jerk. The show itself was seen as revolutionary for its frank and honest dealings with same- sex relationships, drug and alcohol use among teenagers, and domestic abuse. However, the part of the show that truly bonds white people together is not their common experience of exploring these issues. No, it’s the collective sense of regret for mid-nineties fashion. “Do you remember the episode where Rayanne had the drug overdose?” “Sort of. Do you remember that choker necklace she wore? What were we thinking?” “I’ve actually had a drug prob—” “And the scrunchies? Are you kidding me?” So rather than attempting to use the social aspect of the show to forge a deep connection with white people, you should simply revert to the number-one rule when dealing with white people: throw a themed party. As a male, if you arrive with a white T-shirt, ripped jeans, and a plaid shirt tied around your waist you should be guaranteed, at the very least, a make-out session. As a female, show up with a plaid skirt, combat boots, and your hair parted down the middle. Though this outfit would normally get you branded as a lesbian, tonight it will have quite the opposite effect. Note: You may notice that all the music from this era is very depressing. Do not worry about it having a negative effect on your party. White people have an amazing ability to get drunk and then all happily sing, in unison, a song about suicide. Whiter Shades of Pale: The Stuff White People Like, Coast to Coast from Seattle’s Sweaters to Maine’s Microbrews, coming 11/23! Amazon Barnes & Noble Borders.com IndieBound
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11

sparknotes

  • Blogging Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: Part 7 27 January, 2012, 11:20 am
    Chapter Nineteen: The Lion and the Serpent Better Title: Luna's Hat is Every Kind of Wonderful I'm not a big fan of the Quidditch scenes in these books. Sure, they're exciting and filled with drama, but it's hard to get pumped up about a sporting event when we all know Harry will be facing death and saving the world soon. It would be as if in the middle of The Dark Knight, Batman dropped everything to play a game of Apples to Apples with Alfred.
  • How to Write a Secret Admirer Note and Not Sound Like a Stalker. 27 January, 2012, 11:00 am
    So you like someone and you wanna tell them—but you're desperately afraid of rejection? Cue the SECRET ADMIRER NOTE. Normally, we'd be all: have no fear! You're smart and funny and awesomesauce! This person would be lucky to have you! But you don't always have to play the hero, yo, and secret admirer notes allow you to hide behind the flattering cloak of anonymity and eat a corndog while you muster up that courage of yours. So let's kick it old-school and allow the ever-so-elegant written word to jump on that grenade!
  • What Are Your Dating Rules? 27 January, 2012, 10:40 am
    Jan Winter—my momface—has a dating rule called The Three Questions Rule. She says if you ask a guy three questions and he doesn't ask any back, he's got to go. Too self-involved. What is this, an interview? "Nimbo maniac," is what she'd call him. My dating rule is The Sick!Barf! Rule. There's some graffiti by my house that says "Sick!Barf!" If he doesn't think that's funny, he's not worth his weight in pudding.
  • How to Make Studying Fun! (Okay, Maybe Not Fun, But Tolerable, At Least) 27 January, 2012, 10:00 am
    Why is studying so tediously torturous? Why hasn’t anybody invented some sort of technology that will insert the knowledge directly into our brains for easy access? I have confidence that this will happen one day, but until then, here are some tips to help make the minutes seem less like agonizing hours of hellish torment:
  • Open Thread for January 27 27 January, 2012, 6:00 am
    Happy Belated Birthday to Hammncheese94, who not only suceeded in being born 18 years ago, but also succeeded in winning an award at an art competition with this picture! It is quite lovely--the only thing that could make it better is if the wheel were made of cheese instead of wood!
  • How to Throw the Perfect Oscar Party 26 January, 2012, 4:20 pm
    The nominations have been announced (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close got nominated? Really? Reeeeeeally? That doesn't look like a movie. It looks like a commercial for anti-depressants.) Now it's time to get ready for Hollywood's biggest night. Here's how to throw the perfect Oscar party.
  • Ask Jono: The Five Approaches To Dating 26 January, 2012, 3:40 pm
    Yo Jono, I love your column. So I decided to go to you for advice. Basically, I have this guy friend. Recently, we went to the movies. I did the little trick where I put my hand on the armrest between us, and it worked and we ended up holding hands. It was great. I'd suspected he liked me for a while, and I like him, so it's all good, right? Well, I've never had a boyfriend before. In the days after the movie, he's texted me every single day. I do this extracurricular (I'm in a circus), which sometimes conflicts with hanging out. He wants to come watch me so we can go out after, saying if I'm interested in it, he'd love to watch it. My problem is that since I have absolutely ZERO experience with any of this, is this normal? Like, him wanting to get involved in other parts of my life? I don't know if I'm scared of commitment or something, but the whole thing seems like so much all of a sudden. I mean, I'd love to go out with him more, but is it too much too fast (the movie was only a few days ago) or am I overreacting?
  • Updos for Girls With Curly Hair 26 January, 2012, 3:20 pm
    Why are Alexis' friends so cool? And why do they all have such pretty hair??
  • S**t Bilbo Says 26 January, 2012, 2:40 pm
    Is anyone else as excited about The Hobbit as we are? GOOD. Because today—TO-DAY—blogger Josh Perilo brings the hottest/dumbest/bestest/not-meant-for-fantasy-novelsiest meme of all time TO THE SHIRE. —Editors
  • Auntie SparkNotes: It's Complicated 26 January, 2012, 2:20 pm
    Dear Auntie , I'm having a bit of a dilemma: Everyone always says that in order to make your relationship "official," you have to make it "Facebook Official" (which I don't agree with), but I'm hesitant in doing so. I've been together with this guy for almost 3 months, and I keep telling myself that I'm going to change my relationship status, but every time the deadline that I set for myself comes around, I always put it off.
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