Asian child, I will eat you. Don’t think I won’t do it.
I recently got a job at a fast food restaurant because I forgot why I went to college. The place where I work serves hot dogs, and not just any hot dogs. Delicious hot dogs (see: Figure 4). I’ve never been a huge hot dog fan (unless “hot dog” is a euphemism), but being around them constantly is making me crave them. Need them. (more…)
This past Friday, I attended the State Fair of Texas. It was fun, but the nutritional equivalent of fried turd I ate mandated that this weekend be X-TREEM DETOX WEEKEND. X-TREEM DETOX WEEKEND is my specially formulated diet plan to lose bulk without improving overall health. It involves a lot of diet soda. I guess it’s more of an anti-detox… but detox sounds better so it’s X-TREEM DETOX WEEKEND, with a completely unnecessary but nonetheless effectively aggressive misspelling of “extreme”! So tape Coke Zero cans to your hands and start downing my patented X-TREEM DETOX DIET PILLS!
Just in case you’re in the 10% of the world’s population that has yet to see the travesty that is “Friday” by Rebecca Black, allow me to educate you.
If you thought that song “Justin Bieber’s Girlfriend” was bad, just wait until you see this—er, the thing you already watched at the top of the page. “Friday” is a song that gives old folks in their 20s like me insight into what the kids are up to these days, and apparently, 13-year-olds are up to no damn good, especially on Fridays, which, according to Rebecca, come after Thursdays (even though we all know that Thursday is actually in between Monday and Brednesday).
Black Friday was a couple of weeks ago, but that doesn’t mean America isn’t still in a fight-to-the-death mindset when it comes to holiday shopping. It’s dangerous out there, and unless you’re equipped with a thousand tranquilizer darts and copies of O Magazine to take on the housewives, your life could be in danger. It seems grim, but there’s good news. I’ve compiled a list of gadgets and gobbledygook for everyone on your Christmas list that you can order online, so you don’t have to risk your life in the midst of holiday shopper crowds.
I wrote this, most likely on some kind of sugar high the day before it was due, for part of a writing “packet” I had to turn in as my final when I took a creative writing class. It’s loaded with marching band references most people won’t understand, and if some people with marching band experience read this, they might not find it terribly accurate.
The bus pulled into the Canon ISD Stadium at 8:00 am for the Canon Marching Band Festival, but Mr. Avery wasn’t letting us get off yet. Most kids were asleep. Megan and Adair were sitting behind Chase and me. They were both listening to Megan’s pink iPod and they kept kicking the back of our seat to the beat. I knew they were listening to “Party in the USA” because I could hear it. I wished they would quit it; my back was staring to hurt.
“Miley Cyrus sucks,” I said.
“Yeah,” agreed Chase, “but she’s kinda hot.”
I frowned. To me, Miley Cyrus looked like she was ten. “Gross.”
“Charlie, did you just say Miley Cyrus was gross?” Megan gasped, poked her little black-haired head up over our seat and yanked the headphones out of her ears.
“What about Miley?” Adair shouted over the music only she could hear.
“Miley Cyrus is a famous singer and actress. She even has her own clothing line. I’m pretty sure that makes her cooler than you two losers.” Megan stuck out her tongue at us through her purplish lips.
“Not for long!” Chase got excited. “Not when our band gets discovered!”
It wasn’t much of a band. It was Chase, our Mexican pal, Ricky Martinez (Ricky Martin when we felt like being mean), and some guy named Jed he met at the bowling alley who was like thirty years old. One day Chase told me I was the manager and since then I’d been going to his house every Sunday night for band practice. So during every practice, I ate my weight in Cheetos while sitting on Chase’s couch and watching the band, or “Attack of the Weasels,” play Guitar Hero, the real instruments lying in the background untouched. I’d stopped going recently, though, because Jed was starting to creep me out. I thought he’d been going to Chase’s house to hit on his mom, but it was starting to seem like he was more interested in Chase.
As we all know, or rather, as all we surface-dwellers know (no offense, Underground Sewage Society, but you’re pretty disgusting), today is Friday the 13th. In honor of my favorite holiday—because as far as I’m concerned, it is a motherf*cking holiday, motherf*ckers—I am going to discuss the most terrifying thing threatening our planet right now: the last season of Oprah.
As we all know, or rather, as all we surface-dwellers know (no offense, Underground Sewage Society, but you’re pretty disgusting), today is Friday the 13th. In honor of my favorite holiday—because as far as I’m concerned, it is a motherf*cking holiday, motherf*ckers—I am going to discuss the most terrifying thing threatening our planet right now: the last season of Oprah.
Shit My Cake Says 