Sep

17

Somebody make me a fried cheesecake sandwich, please.

Filed Under Creek of Consciousness | 1 Comment

Slap some bread around this slice of cheesecake.

It’s irrational that bulls are angered by the color red. Aren’t dogs colorblind? And aren’t bulls just enormous dogs that snort smoke out of their pierced nostrils? On that note - aren’t deer just dogs running loose in your backyard that are constantly getting hit by cars? Y’know, I’m pretty sure birds are dogs somehow too.

Whenever there’s a middle-aged man riding a crappy bike on the side of the highway you’ve gotta assume he loves booze.

A lot of things in life get worse over time. Like your memory, your health and your overall ability to enjoy things. But one thing you can always count on being awesome is ice cream.

My favorite math equation is “taking a shower + going to the bank = nap time”.

In elementary school there was this girl who had a terrible eye twitch. She would blink her eyes like a humming bird flaps its wings. Well, she’s married now and all I can think about is the lucky guy on the opposite end of the most incredible butterfly kisses of all time.

Videogames in the 80’s were all about jumping over shit and that’s fucking it.

A muu muu is sort’ve like a nightgown for people in the daytime. A muu muu is exactly like a nightgown for unnaturally fat people in the daytime. Oh, and pregnants.

The U.S. Postal Service basically consists of a bunch of weirdoes carrying around your stupid crap and leaving it in very specific places.

Does every post office have that old hippie dude with the unnecessarily large grey beard? And he’s a little too friendly? And he hosts a weekly radio show that broadcasts from your local college? And his name is Humblewood Gumshoe and he owes me a bunch of money? You know who I’m talking about?

The Mr. Belvedere theme song is the most informational song of all time. It explains the entire goddamn plot of the show in 58 glorious seconds!

It’s important to converse with other people occasionally because they help you remember stuff you forgot about - like the mysterious disappearance of Amelia Earhart or the one episode in every TGIF series where the family goes to Disney World. I hate that goddamn episode, Full House.

During a routine stop at a gas station convenience store I asked the foreign guy behind the counter if they sold key chains and he said “no”. As I was leaving the store empty-handed he said, “but we do have these,” and he pulled out a huge box of key chains. Dude, what the fuck happened there?

Sep

7

Tanning is great! Am I right? Of course I am.

Filed Under Editorials | 1 Comment

Alyssa Valentine - Suburban Tanning GoddessThe following was printed in The Leader Wednesday Feb. 8th, 2006.

According to ancient lore, orange is the color channeled into the vagina to bring about fruitful fertility. So why not cover your entire body in a healthy orange glow all year round? Am I right? Of course I am!

I’ve been a loyal artifical body tanner as long as I’ve had my “time of the month.” But recently I had an experience that could only be describe as “totally shitty.” As a result, I’m breaking my contract with the Tropical Tan Superstore and I hope it gets burned to the ground. Oh my gosh, that’d be ironic for a tanning bed to burn down, right? Is that what irony is? Who cares anyway!?

It was a week ago today that I took my post-lunch tan after totally pigging out on a can of Chili Cheese Pringles that weren’t even mine. Everything was business as usual while I winked to Tad, the sweat-wiper, on my way to the booth. Before I could close the door, however, Stacy Pempleton, queen of the over-tan, busted in and had a total conniption.

She took out her chocolate truffle-flavored lip gloss in a vein attempt to cover up her charred lips and began berating me for always leaving the Burberry bag that I bought off a street urchin during my senior trip to New York City outside the tanning booth. “Can’t you read the sign or are your retinas damaged from the ultra-hot lamps? Oh, snap!” she said. I was like, “First of all, you can’t ‘oh,snap’ yourself. Secondly, you’re just pissed because Tad lets me leave my designer bags on the chair. And he thinks that if you had green hair you’d be a shoe-in for the Oompa Loompa look-alike contest. Skank!”

Having felt like I won the battle of wits with Stacy, I put on my protective eye goggles and prepared for another awesome 15 minutes under the UV lights. That’s when Tad came over and dropped the ultimate bombshell. It was totally like Hiroshoma all over again, I swear to God. He tossed his sweat-rag on the tiled floor, put his arm around pimple-faced Pempleton and said, “Stacy and I are in love.”

In love? I didn’t know gutter sluts and sweat-mopping Neanderthals had feelings, let alone the capacity for love. Tad is just getting with her because he found out she was on the pill. And everyone knows Tad is always saying, “I don’t wrap it, I just tap it.”

What kind of name is Tad anyway? A stupid, moronic, craphead name. Am I right? Of course I am!

So I grabbed my stuff and stormed out of that shit hole. I was, like, totally pissed on my way back to Forever 21 because I missed my post-lunch tan session. A cold shiver raced down my spine as I could literally feel my skin getting paler. It’s a feeling I would never wish upon any suburban tanning diva.

These days I frequent the Sunny Days Tanning Bed located in the Humphrey Strip mall on the scummy side of town. The décor is kind of bland and the early 90s “muzak” can definitely get on your nerves. Nevertheless, it’s the only place to be if you want to maintain your citrus epidermal shine while avoiding skin-burned tramps and sweat-moppers with VD.

Oh my god, it’s almost time for my 5 o’clock tan. Well, I hope Stacy reads this and realizes what a useless whore she is and slits her wrists in a warm bath or whatever. For all you aspiring tan goddesses out there, always remember to keep your head up. You want to make sure you get your chin and neck as equally tanned as the rest of your face. L8ter!