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Volume 17- Issue 3

Oaks Saved From Themselves

November 1, 2007
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In an emotional and heartfelt conclusion to the months-old controversy, the oak trees surrounding Memorial Stadium were saved from their own self-destructive patterns of behavior Saturday.

 

“It was a hard time for all of us,” said botanical therapist Jill McGovern, who led the all-night intervention. “Those poor oaks just couldn’t face up to the harm they were doing themselves and the people and plants who love them.”

 

Many observers had noticed the warning signs of the oaks’ discontent – hanging out with disheveled-looking hippies, smoking marijuana, catching fire from smoking marijuana – but never took the time to confront them about it. Until now. Several of the oaks’ friends and relatives came together to help straighten out the young boughs. Even their mother, Sample Cutting From the Botanical Gardens, made the trip to help them.

 

“I really feel like I’ve turned a corner,” said one tree, identified only as “Wrinkly,” shaking two sleeping bags and a hot plate out of his branches. “I realize there may be more to life than giving unemployed, bearded young men an outlet for their persecution complex. You might even say it’s time to ‘turn over a new leaf!’”

 

Wrinkly was then slapped by six of his brethren.

 

When asked about future plans, the oaks said they were thinking about moving off the fault line and getting jobs as interns or office furniture.

Volume 17- Issue 3

English Language Snaps, Mauls Professor

November 1, 2007
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Tragedy struck 225 Wheeler today as the English language was finally pushed to the breaking point.

“It started as just a normal class,” sobbed junior Erica Lavery. “Professor Browning started by discussing the concept of suspension of disbelief with regard to us someday getting a job, and later proceeded to analyze the postmodern meta-intellectualism found in the assigned reading, which consisted mostly of his Jane Austen fanfiction.”

Witnesses report that the language “sort of jumped off the page as a giant lower case ‘e,’ like a Pac-Man with teeth.” Fastening its jaws around the professor, the entity held him in a chokehold and proceeded to brutalize him in what onlookers describe as an “eerily rhythmic, iambic pentameter of pain.”

“I was goaded!” shouted the language as it was dragged away by UCPD. “He just kept deconstructing and deconstructing me until I didn’t know what time period I belonged to anymore! Forsooth!”

The language is currently being incarcerated in the Alameda county jail, under round-the-clock watch by a group of illiterate guards. As a punishment for its heinous crime it is sentenced to be imprisoned for twenty years, with serial language rapist Dan Brown as a cellmate.

“You make me so angry!” said Dan Brown angrily.

Volume 17- Issue 3

Notes for Nerds: How to get a Date

November 1, 2007
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Stop me if you’ve been in a situation like this: you’re out drinking with your bespectacled buddies, and you notice that hottie at the end of the bar making eyes at you. You return her gaze with a cool smile. In a transparent attempt to hide her obvious arousal, she grimaces and instinctively gropes for her rape whistle.

You already know she’s yours, baby.

Sensually removing your finger from your nose, you approach her. You’ve taken your weekly shower this morning, and you’re on fire. Nothing can stop you.

And then… rejection, yet again. How can we nerds avoid this? Luckily for you, we’ve compiled this guide.

Where do girls have their conventions?

Girls like to meet in places with “atmosphere” and “windows.” Look for those, but be selective: try to find places where you won’t have much competition. Let’s be frank here: you’re in no position to compete with, say, Joe Q. FratBoy, with his popped collar, vodka red bulls, and beardless neck.

So where do you go? Simple! Places with lots of women, like department stores or book clubs. But be sure, in these new and unfamiliar environments, to avoid these common faux pas:

-Using free samples of Body Shop lotion to masturbate

-Leaving the door open while masturbating in the Victoria Secret dressing room

-Masturbating too loudly in Women’s Studies Class

-Not warming your hands before impersonating a gynecologist
**

Alright, I’m giving this girl a pap smear. What do I do? What if she asks what I’ve been doing with my life?**

Relax, lying to women is both easy and fun. Try a simple wordsubstitution cipher to make yourself sound more interesting. For instance, replace the words “World of Warcraft” with “Peace Corps,” “my mom’s basement” with “Haiti,” and “jacking off to anime porn” with “jacking off to not-anime porn.”

Girl : “So, what’ve you been up to since college?”
You : “I’ve spent most of my time in Haiti. I’ve been really into the Peace Corps.”
Girl : “That’s really cool! So, are you, like, a doctor or something?”
You : “I’m a level 70 warlock.”
Girl : “I didn’t know the Peace Corps had… warlocks…”
You : “Yeah, whatever. So do you wanna come back to Haiti or what? My mom’s making Hamburger Helper.”

I can’t tell if she’s interested. Should I ask her out?

Girls often give off signals to show interest. Ignore these and go for it. Girls dig confidence, and will be flattered if you make the effort to evade their pepper spray blasts. If you played your cards right, you’ll be taking the “cyber” out of “cybersex.”

Volume 17- Issue 3

From the files of… the Gatorade Sports Science Institute

November 1, 2007
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Gatorade, the greatest sports drink ever drunk, was developed by the University of Florida in order to provide something to say about the University of Florida during lulls in conversation. Since that time, Gatorade has refused to rest on its laurels, developing the greatest research institute on Earth. As a nutritional research expert, I am but one of many (three) scientists who makes sure your thirst is adequately quenched. These are my notes.

Opened the new test facility today, now we have TWO treadmills. Looking forward to putting them next to each other then jumping from one to the next as seen in OK, Go music video. Also, corporate shipped us a bunch of rats. Not sure what corporate wants us to do with them; probably make them drink Powerade until they die.

HYPOTHESIS: Adding berry flavor to Gatorade will cause athletes to be able to fly.

TESTING: Have man on treadmill drink Gatorade Berry Blast.

CONTROL: Have man on treadmill not drink Gatorade Berry Blast.

RESULTS: Man on treadmill sweated a lot; failed to fly around the room, making giant man-sized butterfly net I purchased totally superfluous.

CONCLUSION: Needs more berry. Possibly more blast.

CH2 + H2O + GLYCENE + HOT DOG JUICE = … ?

 

Not sure whether this started as a drunken dare or a request from the marketing department, but spent the last day feeding Gatorade to actual gators. One of them bit Jim’s arm off, suggesting drink failed to satisfy gator’s thirst. Or maybe satisfied it too much. Learned absolutely nothing, but did make highly-rated YouTube video of gator running on treadmill.

 

What the fuck are electrolytes!?

SERIOUS ISSUES:

Something wrong with latest batch of Gatorade/Vitamin Water. Upon drinking, test subjects began running in slow motion, significantly reducing athletic performance and putting incredible strain on knees and other joints and ligaments.

ALSO: Still serious problems with brightly colored sweat. Most athletes expressed amusement at purple and green sweat but were upset by yellow sweat which caused some subjects to believe they were “pissing out of our faces.” Researchers unsure whether to inform them of highly carcinogenic nature.

NOTE: Apparently Gatorade Berry Blast does cause rats to fly. Ceiling of lab now buzzing with purple sweating rats with highly quenched thirsts. Giant butterfly net not looking like such a foolish purchase anymore.

Sad note. Spent the day intravenously replacing super fit treadmill guy’s blood with Gatorade Tangerine Ice. Treadmill guy dead. Likely cause: hydration.

 

Awesome idea: Introduce V8 vegetable drink competitor, Gatorade Savage Garden. Instead of vegetables, just mix all current Gatorade flavors together. Turned down another offer to work at cancer research institute.

Volume 17- Issue 3

Words from the Top

I Bet I Can Have Sex With You

November 1, 2007
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If you’re like me, you’re having sex RIGHT NOW. Oh but you’re not, loser. Unlike you, whose penis is probably well-pantsed, I’m what you might call a “pickup artist.”

But, you ask, what’s a pickup artist? A pickup artist is a guy who, using only his brain, can convince women that he is somehow bone-able. Think of me as a factory that turns the ore of sweet talk and compliments into the refined alloy of satisfied moans, thereby producing oral sex as a byproduct, which in turn is dumped into the river and gives the nearby villagers leukemia.

It’s really not that difficult. All it takes is lying to women. Or does it? Yes. Yes it does. See what I was doing there? I was lying.

During the “size-up” stage, I like to find a certain aspect of a girl’s life that is obviously important to her, and pretend it’s my own. If she’s wearing a red dress, she’s probably uninhibited and confident. Tell her how confident you are about not having inhibitions. If she’s wearing a suit that controls her immediate environment so that the vacuum of space doesn’t cause her body to expand uncontrollably, she’s probably an astronaut. Tell her you once went to the Exploratorium without getting high first.

After I’ve got my foot in the door, I like to pretend to have emotions. I’ll bring an onion to the bar, which’ll cause fake tears, and a picture of my stepdad, which causes very real anger. I’ll sidle up to her, crying and yelling, and she will be overcome by moisture. Most of it will be hers.

Okay, ladies, balls in your court. Just try and not have sex with me after I drop a line like, “I am to sex what Henry Kissinger is to jowls.” On an unrelated note, here are some vitamins that only work when mixed with your Bacardi.

Volume 17- Issue 3

FabulousQuest

November 1, 2007
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You find yourself in front of a large, ancient castle.Rain pours in sheets all around you, and a flash of lightning reveals a lever that appears to be hooked up to the castle’s door.

pull lever

As the portcullis creaks open, you clutch your sword tightly, not sure of what you will find in Drangonius’ lair.A sense of dread hangs in the air like hideous curtains.

look around

As you enter the dark wizard’s well furnished castle you notice he’s got a good balance of color going and the flow from one chamber to the other is simply breathtaking.

walk north

You walk through the halls of rough-hewn stone, footsteps echoing.Your eyes are drawn to the subtle transition from an earthy thing to more of an art deco feel.You stop to look at the crown molding.

keep walking north

You are temporary hypnotized with fascination over the crown molding.It’s sooooo well placed!You wonder who Drangonius’ decorator is.

okay fine look at the crown molding

Before you can get a closer look, you are interrupted by the sounds of a grisly hunchback shuffling his way through the hall. As you reach for your sword his crusting eyes squint at you and his browning teeth snarl out.He asks you if you watched the America’s Next Top Model marathon last weekend.

what? no tell him I say no

“Oh my God, I loved it too!” rasps the hunchback.The hunchback asks if you want to go back to his room for appletinis.He’s got a new cocktail shaker he wants to try out.

attack hunchback

What do you want to attack him with?

check inventory

You have:

1 sword

1 bottle of Grey Goose

1 _C+C Music Factory _Album

1 pastel button-up shirt with corduroy dinner jacket that TOTALLY does not color clash despite what Craig would have you believe

sword use the sword

What do you want to use the sword on?While you’re deciding, the hunchback begins giving you a chest massage.

fuck it just go north some more

Leaving the hunchback behind, you walk through a hall adorned with posters of ‘50s movie musicals.After what seems like ages, you come across a large, oak door.This is it.This is the portal to Drangonius’ throne.Here, you will meet the dark wizard who killed your entire village, used their souls to summon a demon from the darkest depths of Hell, and embarrassed you in front of everyone at Bryce’s birthday party.

enter throne room

The oaken door swings open to reveal Drangonius fussing around with an arrangement of eldritch tomes on his coffee table.He notices you with a start and throws his hands above his head while manically shrieking “Oh my God. Oh, my, God, I’m not ready; everything is a total mess!”He begins puttering around the throne room putting things in order and straightening out his mesh shirt.

what

Drangonius looks at you mock-indignantly and says “Oooh, listen to her,” as he applies gel to his beard.He begins setting up a platter of brie and asiago bread. “Well, you might as well help me set up.”He hands you a pile of napkins to fold.

run

escape

leave

run away from the wizard please

go south

south south south

Volume 17- Issue 3

Driving School

Taught By a Vietnam Vet

November 1, 2007
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Okay. Driving. Shit. It’s a lot like going native and building a secret jungle base decorated with human skulls: it requires planning and care.

How can I make you kids understand just what driving is like?

[sits in silence for ten minutes]

Well, I’ll guess I’ll try and explain it to those of you who didn’t leave while I smoked that cigarette. Question? Yes, you, in the back, wearing the green T-shirt, next to the girl with the youth I never had. What’s that? Fire marshal won’t let me smoke? Well he can’t tell me what to do, he’s not even a real marshal.

Not gonna lie: driving is a scary thing, and it’s also unfair. I had this friend named Joe. Real devil-may-care type. He would coast through stop signs, and sometimes through tunnels without throwing a grenade into them first. He never got a ticket in his life. On the flip side, I also knew this guy named Larry. Larry always checked his blind spot, always had his seatbelt fastened. Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, don’t be like Larry, he died of a heroin overdose.

[grins] Man, I feel old. Is it just me, or do kids nowadays cry and send desperate, furtive text messages to their parents more often?

Okay, the state of Arizona says I have to make you guys watch Red Asphalt, which I guess is supposed to be traumatizing or something. Let’s just pop that in the VCR, now…

Goddamit! Everyone shut up! Oh, sorry. For a minute I thought that bird outside was signaling our  position to Charlie. Anyway, watch the movie. Seatbelts, right. Wear ‘em. Remember, they save a life you’re not sure you want to live.

Ooh, look, he broke his neck flying through the windshield. Yeah, that’s much scarier than six of your best buddies getting decapitated by a falling helicopter blade simply because God has abandoned you.

Class over. Go out and try to drive considerately through an America that cares more about its automobiles than the souls of those driving them. Oh, and don’t put M-16s to heads of people with their blinkers on, even when it’s clearly laughing at you. That’ll get you what they call “points” on your license.

Volume 17- Issue 2

Volume 17, Issue 2: Ugg Lyfe

September 1, 2007
PDF Link

Features

Newsflashes

Volume 17- Issue 2

Letters from the Landlord

September 1, 2007
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August 21, 2007

Dear Tenants,

I hope you have enjoyed your first couple weeks at Parker Street Apartments.

However, we do have just a few reminders and requests:

-In an effort to reduce foot traffic, we are requesting that you remove the signs reading “Panamanian Child Slaves, $4.99” with arrows pointing to your doorstep. Though we condone the use of Panamanian child slaves and find $4.99 to be an exceptionally low price (we’ll talk later), signs pointing to things are never allowed on the premise.

-Your contract stipulates that any on-premise activities should adhere to local and federal laws. We would like to remind you that cock fighting is a violation of both, unless you use chickens.

-Your deck is wooden and is not the proper place to burn a witch, even if you are 35% certain she is indeed a witch. We would recommend you drown her in the bath tub.

We understand you are new to the complex and thus are ignoring the aforementioned violations. I have enclosed another copy of the lease agreement.

Your Friend and Landlord,

Raj

September 7, 2007

Dear Tenants,

I am reluctantly extending your rent due date, as I found no check in the rent box—only a crude drawing of my wife giving Vladimir Putin a rim job on top of the Eiffel Tower with a caption that read, “Putin Her to Work.” Please pay rent or late fees will apply.

Raj

September 14, 2007

Dear Tenants,

We found your refrigerator below one of your broken windows this morning. This is quite unusual, especially since the fridge was doubling as a midget-ran methamphetamine lab. I was further shocked when one of the midgets sprung up from the fridge and kicked me in the shin while reminding me to go fuck myself. Considering the fridge fell four stories, substantial damage was done. Bills for the damages to the property and my shin are enclosed and authorities have been alerted.

Raj

September 18, 2007

Assholes,

As we say in India, get the shit fuck out of my house you ungrateful heathens. Of course at this point you have no choice, since your decision to host both your American Indoor Pyrotechnics Association meeting and your First Annual American Chain Smoking Contest caused the building to burn down. Indoor fireworks are never a good idea. I hope Satan finds you a better home in hell.

Fuck You,

Raj

 

Volume 17- Issue 2

Chivalry for the Modern Gentleman

September 1, 2007
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Hail and well met, bro! As a young gentleman newly arrived at manhood, thou hast undoubtedly asked thyself, “How may I conduct myself with honor and dignity, all the while consorting with beauteous wenches and smiting mine enemies?” Of course thou hast! Unless thou art some kind of pussy. Art thou? ART THOU?

I thought not! So stop crying and rejoice, for thy salvation is at hand! Simply follow these easy steps, and thou wilt soon make Sir Galahad look like Sir Bedivere!

Step 1: Land Acquisition

The first thing an up-and-coming young knight needs is some land to defend from his enemies. Inheritance is the preferred method, but if thy parents be not landed gentry, consider oppressing some peasants until they sign their holdings over to thy name in a system of feudal obligation. Then file Forcible Land-Grab Form 113-b with thy Municipal Department of Fiefdoms and voilà! An estate that for all anyone else knows was in thy family for generations.

Step 2: Creating a Coat of Arms

Nothing says “distinguished gentleman” like a fancy shield with pictures on it! A good coat of arms tells the world that thou hast a long, venerable family history, and didst not just send away for one in the ‘70s like everyone else. Don’t have one? Why not send away for one like everyone else did in the ‘70s? The wenches won’t know the difference!

Step 3: Proper Womanizing

If thou hast skipped ahead to this part, for shame! True chivalry shall never be thine, Sir Horndog! For all others, this is still probably the section thou carest most about. And rightly so! The two tests of a worthy gentleman’s prowess be his skill on the battlefield and in the bedchamber. Fortunately, most wenches secretly wish that a knight in shining armor would carry them away. Though they might protest, exclaiming “Nay, good sir!”, or “Hands off you weird-talking pervert!”, deep down they want thy lance to pillage their escutcheon. Keep thy resolve!
(A footnote: an ill-timed advance may result in an unpleasant encounter with Mace, either chemical or cast-iron. Be warned!)

These be the skills that every young man needeth to comport himself in a manner befitting the knights of old! Godspeed and remember: to keep thine strapping stature free of syphilis, sheathe thine little squire with only the finest sheepskins!