We realized that we didn’t have an archives function

December 10, 2010 § Leave a comment

so we added it below the Twitter feed on the right. Now you can more easily waste time reading back through our months of inane banter.

A really awkward boy in my class asked me to his birthday dinner via facebook message. He’s the type of boy you’re nice too but keep your distance because you’re not sure if he try to kill or convert you. How do I say no without him trying to do both?

December 10, 2010 § 1 Comment

Z: Note to guys out there: asking a girl out on a date via facebook message is equivalent to breaking into her home and using your own blood to write PLEASE LOVE ME on her bathroom mirror. Not kidding. It’s all kinds of wrong. 100% chance he’s a weirdo, and even better chance he’s going to try to kill you. I’m talking plastic bag over your head while he chants the prophesies of Nostradamus at you. Avoid.

You know what? I’ve changed my mind. I think you should go. He doesn’t sound awkward or murderous; he sounds desperate. Totally different things. Awkward means he’ll spend a few minutes explaining why he just ended his story about Power Rangers comic books with ‘and then I found five dollars’. Yikes. Desperate means he’ll pay for your dinner and offer to go down on you as his self-birthday present to you. Take the dinner. Decline the latter. Tell him it’s the thought that counts.

L: Tell him that you will only go if he knows how to play the Number Game. He will ask what the Number Game is.  You reply: 6969696969696969. If he says he does know how to play, then he is a creep. If he says he doesn’t know how to  play, he considers Jesus Christ his BFF. If he doesn’t reply…you can thank me via Liquor/Fruit basket.

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One of my friends who looks a lot like me wants me to take a final for him. I already took the class and I killed it but is it worth the risk?

December 9, 2010 § Leave a comment

L: “Worth the risk”, in my experience, usually involves money. Friends are just people you like to hang out with from time to time…but let’s be honest, you wouldn’t be friends with someone if the relationship didn’t benefit you in one way or another. I am not talking about the benefit of having someone you can talk to about anything; that is some sissy shit.  I mean benefits like giving you a discount on cocaine and plan B. Life is a grocery store and friends are your food stamps and coupons. Your food stamp (formerly known as a ‘friend’) in question has a value…and what he offers ($) will tell you if it is worth the risk. I would say no less then 100 dollhairs. Anything less than that is, well, a pathetic food stamp if you ask me. So hump and dump the shit out of the exam and take your money to a strip club, where your true friends are.

Z: Many years ago, a dear friend of mine taught me an important life lesson: If ya ain’t cheatin, ya ain’t tryin. I’ve taken that to heart for about as long as I can remember, and it has never steered me wrong. Not once. Ever.

Therefore, I’m not sure what this so-called ‘risk’ is. Do you mean the risk you run of not doing well? Your friend is clearly going to fail the shit out of this test, so you don’t need to be concerned about his feelings or his GPA. Take his student ID and march on down to wherever the test is being held with your head held high. It isn’t like you’re going to be the only person doing it. You know how professors always bitch every test about seeing new faces, or seeing people who only show up for tests? No, Professor Oblivious, it’s not just because they’ve been skipping class the whole time. It’s because their buddies are too goddamn dumb to pass for themselves, so they sent their friends instead. It’s like representative democracy, but with scantrons.

And it isn’t like the professors even care. They know their students are a bunch of morons. They’re just there for the nerdy girls who have crushes on them and a bully pulpit aka tenure. Little known fact: ‘tenure’ is really just short for ‘ten years until I can do whatever I want’. It’s like nunya, or whatever little bitchy 5th graders used to say.

If you do get caught (you won’t), don’t try to explain yourself, and sure as hell don’t admit defeat. Grab the test, grab your friend’s ID, and run. Run like hell. They can’t expel what they can’t catch. If I’ve convinced you to go through with it, good. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.

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Last-weekend-of-the-semester-crazy-black out-before exam-hook ups… good idea or the best idea? You think there will be a ridiculous amount of people on the prowl this weekend?

December 8, 2010 § Leave a comment

Z: I’ll go with great idea. Like #2 on the list. Best idea would be a few hours spent putting together a high quality goth photoshoot. Laura and I actually have that at the top of our to do list (P.S. I filed a missing persons report for Laura yesterday), but we’re working up the courage to go into Hot Topic to acquire the necessary attire. I’m scared of being called a conformist by a girl with a Monroe piercing and encyclopedic knowledge of the lyrics to every My Chemical Romance song (from before they sold out, of course).

I would even go so far as to say that hammertime finals hookups are a necessary study tool. The trick is to go for someone you’d otherwise NEVER stoop so low as to let talk to you, let alone enter you/enter. You’ll wake up the next day wanting to study for that organic chemistry test, so you can learn about new compounds to use to scrub the shame and self loathing off your genitals. And even when you’re physically clean, you’ll want to forget about last night’s disaster so badly that you’ll focus all your attention on prepping for your exams. It’s like Adderall, but with sloppier blowjobs and more vomit.

Let’s face it – you’re going to find new ways to avoid studying. You’ve always sorta a little bit wanted to watch every episode of M*A*S*H, and now seems like the perfect opportunity. And your socks are just dying to be organized alphabetically by fabric type. How about you take all of that self destructive energy and channel it into one or two nights of desperate, trivial boning? It’s the American way.

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Up until now I have been a heterosexual girl, but I think I falling in love with my bestfriend (a girl). Should I tell her?

December 7, 2010 § Leave a comment

Z: I question whether or not you’ve been on the straight and narrow this whole time. I don’t subscribe to the notion that you can just flip a switch and – BAM- new sexual orientation. That’s for housewives who want to believe that their gay son is going through a phase, or that their daughter brought her “roommate” home for Christmas because she just didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Should you act on it? That’s a good question, and one you can probably answer better than I can. Nothing ruins a platonic relationship like a good sexual advance, so if you don’t think she’d be into it, you might want to keep your mouth shut.

But maybe you can subtly test her. The next time you’re hanging out together, take her hand and try to make out with her. If she’s into it, then you’re good to go. If not, just shake your head like you’re in a daze and say, “Sorry, I just watched Cruel Intentions.”

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i have a man crush on arnold but i dont no what i would do if i ever had the chance to meet him what would you guys do if the terminator every came and shook your hand P.S. not MOJO

December 6, 2010 § Leave a comment

Z: I see. Kids, take this as a lesson – say no to amphetamines.

I don’t know if Laura is busy again today, but I know what she would say. Fear boners. You and Arnold would get them. Except yours would be more boner, and his would be more fear.

Once you two make that sly, mutual boner eye contact, it’s time to get down to business. Former actors, as you surely know, love it when fans repeat their quotes and decades old movie lines to them. It gives them a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, reminding them that they were once relevant. First, I would criticize his weak handshake and call him a girly man. Then I might use some of these ice breakers to get the convo ball rolling.

  • Ice to meet you. OR Allow me to break the ice. My name is Freeze. Learn it well. For it’s the chilling sound of your doom. (Who doesn’t remember him as Mr. Freeze in Batman & Robin, perhaps the pinnacle of his illustrious acting career?)
  • Who is your daddy, and what does he do?
  • If I am not me, then who the hell am I?

After he’s engaged you in light conversation, or whatever Arnold does to strangers (perhaps caress your face while he sensuously kisses you?), you’ll need to escape. I know, security is such weaksauce. Depending on your means of transportation, you could throw either of the following lines back in his face.

  • It’s turbo time!

Finally, to really put the fear of Maria Shriver in him, give him one last quote as a parting gift.

  • I’ll be back.
  • Hasta la vista, baby.
  • It’s NOT a tumah (He might find this comforting. He’s at the age now where he’s probably worried about that kind of thing)

In conclusion, that is what I would do if I ever met Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The end.

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After you count my illegitimate children and the ones that were forced upon me after my second marriage, I have a total of about 6 brats I need to cart around. Do you suggest I get a get a minivan or one of those gas-guzzling SUVs? I wanna be a cool mom!

December 3, 2010 § Leave a comment

Z: There’s nothing quite like a nurturing mother who obviously adores her many illegitimate brats. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I picture you in a pair of magenta velour sweatpants with ice blue eyeshadow and an eyebrow ring. Sorry honey, but the cool mom ship sailed a long time ago. You haven’t been able to call yourself cool since your junior year of high school in 1989, when you proudly told your friends that you were a groupie because you went down on a roadie at a White Snake concert in Durham. Newsflash: a ponytail doesn’t make you a roadie. He was homeless.

Instead of spending so much time fretting over how cool you’ll look in your Astrovan or your ’95 Excursion, start with getting your goddamn roots touched up, and get that self-legitimizing “Bad Girls Live Hard” tattoo off your left tit (contribution from Laura, who is busy today). Or how about you figure out how you’re going to afford all those Lunchables for baby Geraldine, Denver, and the rest of the brood. Processed ham slices ain’t cheap ya know, and daddy isn’t exactly pulling in the big bucks while he’s collecting disability from Roto Rooter for his fake back injury.

I could be totally off base of course, and you could be a perfectly pleasant woman. Get a Toyota Sienna. Those Swagger Wagon commercials totally sold me.

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