Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Very appropriate in light of Megan's upcoming Halloween dinner party:
GOURD SEASON, MOTHERFUCKERS.
BY COLIN NISSAN
- - - -
I don't know about you, but I can't wait to get my hands on some fucking gourds and arrange them in a horn-shaped basket on my dining room table. That shit is going to look so seasonal. I'm about to head up to the attic right now to find that wicker fucker, dust it off, and jam it with an insanely ornate assortment of shellacked vegetables. When my guests come over it's gonna be like, BLAMMO! Check out my shellacked decorative vegetables, assholes. Guess what season it is—fucking fall. There's a nip in the air and my house is full of mutant fucking squash.
I may even throw some multi-colored leaves into the mix, all haphazard like a crisp October breeze just blew through and fucked that shit up. Then I'm going to get to work on making a beautiful fucking gourd necklace for myself. People are going to be like, "Aren't those gourds straining your neck?" And I'm just going to thread another gourd onto my necklace without breaking their gaze and quietly reply, "It's fall, fuckfaces. You're either ready to reap this freaky-assed harvest or you're not."
Carving orange pumpkins sounds like a pretty fitting way to ring in the season. You know what else does? Performing a all-gourd reenactment of an episode of Different Strokes—specifically the one when Arnold and Dudley experience a disturbing brush with sexual molestation. Well, this shit just got real, didn't it? Felonies and gourds have one very important commonality: they're both extremely fucking real. Sorry if that's upsetting, but I'm not doing you any favors by shielding you from this anymore.
The next thing I'm going to do is carve one of the longer gourds into a perfect replica of the Mayflower as a shout-out to our Pilgrim forefathers. Then I'm going to do lines of blow off its hull with a hooker. Why? Because it's not summer, it's not winter, and it's not spring. Grab a calendar and pull your fucking heads out of your asses; it's fall, fuckers.
Have you ever been in an Italian deli with salamis hanging from their ceiling? Well then you're going to fucking love my house. Just look where you're walking or you'll get KO'd by the gauntlet of misshapen, zucchini-descendant bastards swinging from above. And when you do, you're going to hear a very loud, very stereotypical Italian laugh coming from me. Consider yourself warned.
For now, all I plan to do is to throw on a flannel shirt, some tattered overalls, and a floppy fucking hat and stand in the middle of a cornfield for a few days. The first crow that tries to land on me is going to get his avian ass bitch-slapped all the way back to summer.
Welcome to autumn, fuckheads!
These security badges are pretty standard, just a thick plastic card with a picture on it. So the guy took my picture today and made me a badge and I was thinking that my picture was pretty decent...certainly not Chicago Sun-Times-level awful.
After returning to my team room, one of my colleagues asked to see my picture. A little background on him: he is probably in his mid-30s, married with a baby daughter, and just about the least offensive person you could ever meet. His very religion is based upon doing as little harm to the world as possible: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jainism
He looks at my picture and exclaims, "This is a really good shot of you!" After thanking him, he says, "No, really, you look so much healthier here."
Apparently, I generally look like some sort of sickly mess. Great.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Seriously, it was as though my pockets were stuffed with catnip. My personal favorite was Wendy Kaplan...immediately from her name, I could tell she was about 40 years old and a Member of the Tribe, which was great. Turns out, she was a divorcee, a New Jersey resident, and in medical device sales, so we clearly had a lot in common. Most importantly, she was amazing at wrangling free drinks at the blackjack table from this one waitress who looked like a husky Anna Kournikova. It was awesome.
Already very excited for Friendsgiving - will this be the seventh year in the Ronks' dining room? Not gonna lie, it's a pretty great tradition.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Today, I pondered the following:
Why is it that we, as a society, call pooping "going number 2?" In terms of health importance and physical significance, I really think pooping is number 1. Also, no one ever says that they are "going number 1," so what's the point of skipping to number 2? Perhaps it's because "dropping a deuce" sounds more thunderous and alliterative than "dropping an uno." But, if this is the major concern, then I suggest calling it "unleashing an uno."
I'm just saying.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
After a successful beta run, the Stuff White People Like Facebook application is now live.
Though the book contains the definitive and authoritative quiz to determine whiteness, this Facebook application contains an all new set of questions and the ability to see the whitest users and networks on the popular social networking site.
Currently, the whitest networks on Facebook are:
|1.||Mayo Clinic College of Medicine|
|6.||Stevenson High School|
|7.||Bridgeport / Stamford, CT|
|10.||Oklahoma City, OK|
|14.||Grandview Heights High School|
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The blond is my friend Jess (Dyl - she went to Yale '07)
Tommy was on campus talking to an Entertainment Law class. Survey says: he cannot give a straightforward answer (ie: "What's your favorite movie?" yielded 918039180932 responses from him.)
He's so not invited to my celebrity dinner party.