Chicago, IL-On Tuesday, a man was spotted wearing a pair of oversized white DC shoes, complete with massive tongue and a lifetime of regret. The shoe, generally reserved for 8th graders who are overcompensating for bottomed out self-esteem, appeared peculiar on a fully grown human with the means and presumable intelligence to wear something else.
The look of pride on the man’s face suggested the same imaginary sense of importance as any teenager debuting a new Hollister sweatshirt at a local piece of shit mall in Northern Indiana, a strange misguided superiority. The look of someone whose peak human experience was as an illiterate, puberty ridden adolescent.
“I looked sweet in 8th grade, and though I wasn’t athletic or smart or funny, and pretty much existed like a tub old bath water sometimes exists, my shoes were dope as hell, I had some piped out jeans AND I almost touched Lindsay Mumford’s boob once,” said Terry Lapadat adjusting an oversized Fox Racing shirt.
By refusing to surrender the enormous skate shoes, Monster Energy shirt and wallet chain, he is refusing to give up on the mindset of Skate or Die…steadfastly defending a state of perpetual puberty and refusing to abandon the dream of perhaps even one day touching a boob.
Myrtle Beach, South Carolina-After decades of painstakingly seeking the cradle of Mexican inspired American-tourist forward cuisine, Celebrity Chef Rick Bayless has finally unearthed the mossy keystone from which everything was born. Following several days of grueling travel to reach a remote fishing village known as “Myrtle Beach,” Bayless set forth to uncover the mysteries that had lay dormant in the city’s underbelly since the beginning of time.
In particular, a quaint beachside bungalow known by locals as Señor Frog’s became an object of fascination for Bayless. Señor Frog was originally a name given to a beloved goat who regularly graced the bar that kind of looked like a frog if you were drunk enough, he was immortalized in the bar name after being decapitated in a gruesome Jet Ski accident.
Bayless spent countless nights there, submerging himself to the point of madness, as wet t-shirt contests were held, lava lamps were butt chugged and free beer koozies were given to people who agreed to be kicked in the nuts by Dog the Bounty Hunter impersonator. This was culture. This was heaven.
“Farm to table nitrous balloons, hand crafted Red Bull Vodkas rimmed with organic Stacker 2 energy pills, 60/40 ground chuck blend shaped into a fist, and a VR gravity bong experience, will all be available at my new restaurant Donkey Dick’s Bar & Grill,” said Bayless furiously scribing pre-emptive Trip Advisor reviews.
The bar will cater to people who want to appear interesting and adventurous but are actually quite dull. Wading through a cultureless abyss of Michelob Ultra buckets and acid fueled three legged races.
Chicago, IL-A man with nothing else going for him and no discernible physical or intellectual competence still has his entire persona planted in the forgettable milestone he participated in over a decade ago. “I ran this really cool race…not sure if you’ve heard of it…it’s called Tough Mudder, you’re pretty much not a real man unless you do it,” said Bryce Kibby proudly wearing his officially licensed Tough Mudder shirt and accompanying bandeezy.
The achievement of adulthood is ultimately measured by the willingness to pay for physical anguish you could otherwise get for free. Sponsored 5K’s, Warrior Dashes, Spartan Massacres, Iron Man Orgies, all only several hundred dollars to get a free t-shirt and roll around in the mud with a thousand other losers for an afternoon, Bryce Kibby was one of those prideful losers.
“I looked pretty sweet, not going to lie, bandana flying in the wind, I actually modified the shirt by cutting the sleeves on it…Tinder profile pic bro, chicks love dudes who ran in a corporate sponsored race a decade ago,” continued Kibby visibly satisfied with the thought of his perfectly curated Tinder profile.
Though Kibby has no current plans to run the race again and is currently an immobile fucking slob, he still relives that single glorious day in every aspect of his life.
Chicago, IL-On Tuesday, a faceless and wholly beige employee with a productive cough was scene proudly riding the elevator down a single floor. The prospect of ten or so stairs proved too daunting for the person who spends the entirety of their day resting like cloth goiter from an outdated desk chair.
The rest of the elevator suffered in silence, a quiet rage settled in as the additional several seconds spent dropping the insect on his floor becomes an excruciating undertaking. Audible sighs were exchanged coupled with a ceremonial passive aggressive jamming of the close button in a futile attempt to humiliate the person enough into reconsidering their decision next time.
The employee remained predictably unaware, apparently having a me week, a me month, a me year. Gazing purposefully into a rousing game of bubble shooter. After the doors opened on their floor, the sick fuck looked almost surprised, as though they expected the elevator to somehow take longer, or drop him off in an unknown land. Uncertainty takes hold and more precious seconds dissolve as they grow inexplicably more confused.
Finally satisfied with the floor choice, the employee exited the elevator, to promptly become someone else’s burden.
Inspiring triumphs like slowly gating down a dozen concrete stairs certainly lie ahead for this person, just not today.
Seattle, WA-Amazon is at it again. After realizing that nobody else in the voice-computing home assistant industry was creating a product voiced by an alt right skewing male, they jumped on the opportunity. Alex is Amazon’s bastard stepchild to the product Alexa, and is made specifically for the American public that has grown weary of completely impartial, female voiced artificial intelligence.
“Alex is a huge proponent of the All Lives Matter movement, he believes that the shape shifting reptilian elite have found the Arc of the Covenant and have begun merging with the machines, and he makes snide remarks about the global warming myth when it’s snowing outside, but he can also order a case of pamplemousse LaCroix!” said head of product development Alfonso Knutson.
Alex is voiced by Rick from the show Pawn Stars, who may or may not be alt-right, but is certainly on board with diversifying the voices contained in computer assistants and promoting his new show Pawn Stars XL, “The bigger they pawn, the harder they fall.” He’ll also be awarded $20 from Chumlee, who bet him he would never be immortalized in an Amazon product.
This product represents the current state of our country, paranoid, depraved, fucked up and still very much so into reality television shows about pawning.
Universal Studios, Orlando-A bachelorette party, which required guests to spend over $400 on disposable bride themed swag and take a full week off work, proved to be a truly unforgettable and not at all burdensome experience after a boomerang surfaced of party attendees boastfully cheersing plastic champagne flutes full of Barefoot Rosé.
“It took about 20 minutes to get the right boomerang, but that kind of persistence, adherence to personal branding, and disregard of interests outside of Instagram is what THIS bride tribe is all about…am I right ladies?!? Who’s having a good fucking time!?” screamed Kelli Barnett while dragging the hungover and sunburnt group of girls to get their picture taken with a wax statue of Draco Malfoy at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Because the heavily curated and patrolled bachelorette Instagram hashtag permitted only joyous, albeit naturally joyous and not doctored looking posts, the rest of the world can only imagine the underlying misery. A weekend distilled into tears and vomit.
“What we lack in personality, we make up for in sheer volume of posts…I mean…we’re all just a little EXTRA…mmmmkayyy?” continued Barnett furiously applying filters to a dreadful looking picture.
Hobart, Indiana-Kohl’s has always been known as the beige heart of America. Pumping contentment and aspirations of giving up into the air to accompany the smell of rotting knuckle steaks from the neighboring Ponderosa Steakhouse in the dirty strip mall they call home. The one area they’ve failed to penetrate is the wedding industry…until now.
Yesterday Kohl’s announced the launch of a collaboration wedding line designed by, none other than, strip mall fashion icons, Reba McEntire and Joey Fatone. The exclusive wedding attire targets sensible bride and grooms who feel like they are well represented by varying tones of khaki and khaki like materials.
“We strictly explored the taupe palette when designing these, we want brides and grooms to feel as special as they do after leaving a 4 day mandatory disruptive marketing conference in Orlando Florida,” said Fatone, sitting in a flesh toned suit that made him appear fully nude.
The line is available now, and with purchase, you’ll get $10 in Kohl’s cash, 50% off Nike’s that are 70% off or more, 30% money back when buying Jennifer Lopez clothing with your Kohl’s issued credit card, and buy one get one cotton candy goat. So give up together, with Kohl’s.
Chicago, IL-The office is by all accounts a minefield of mundanity, the prospect of triggering each godforsaken interaction somehow more dull and uninteresting than sitting at your desk and heaving another piece of digital waste into the collective corporate trash vortex. In fact, the fear of being emotionally maimed by another conversation involving elevator speed or low hanging fruit has caused most employees to spend the majority of their days methodically plotting to avoid any and all human interaction.
Though gazing unresponsively into your computer screen and looking vaguely constipated can be an effective method of maintaining solitude, certain bodily and professional necessities can force employees to wade into the treacherous sea of lukewarm tap water and eager mouths of forthcoming coworkers. Bathroom and water fountain trips are executed with the precision and discretion of Sean Connery escaping from Alcatraz.
Meetings are tentatively accepted, dreaded, rejected and re-scheduled until they are ultimately forgotten and mercifully disappear into an Outlook graveyard of irrelevance. Phone calls are gladly exchanged for a string of 200 frustrated emails which create a lifetime of resentment and bring neither party closer to any resolution. Though the outcome still is somehow more attractive than the thing that is dreaded most by any employee “Jumping on a call for a quick chat.”
No matter how exhausting the avoidance is, the alternative is exponentially worse.
Chicago, IL-On Saturday, a Chicago man spotted at Joe’s on Weed wearing shamrock sunglasses, green plaid pants and a shirt that said “Its magically delicious” with an arrow pointing towards his piss soaked jeans, ended his night attempting to beat off before passing out completely alone in a familiar computer chair. This circumstance is by all accounts a successful Saint Patrick’s Day for the braindead fucking locusts lapping up green colored Coors Light off of a urinal cake at Fin McCool’s.
“The shirt was hilarious! I mean whoever the fuck thought of that shirt KNEW that it would make chicks wanna suck on your junk! Sure I pissed myself in the first 20 minutes of the day, and ended up shitting my pants an hour later, but still!” said Terry Horvath, at a completely epic brunch in which him and the rest of his goddamn goons brought their own green food coloring to.
The perfect Saint Patrick’s Day is being crammed like sausage skin into a brutally overpriced bar where the Ed Sheeran blasting makes it impossible to actually spend time with any friends. These are the times you’ll cherish for the rest of your life. If you’re lucky you’ll only hate 98% of the bar, the other 1% are likely unconscious on the floor making them somewhat more tolerable.
“I’ll leave it at this…I was Fit Shaced last night…hahhaa” continued Horvath knowing he’s a burden that no city should have to shoulder.
Chicago, IL-On Saturday, a man was seen staring whimsically out of a window at New Wave Coffee in Logan Square, his left hand rested limply yet somehow thoughtfully placed on a mint copy of A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole. The book appeared blatantly without wear, with all of the shine and smugness of a freshly bought copy from Barnes & Noble, making him instantly superior to any other primitive dregs strewn about the coffee shop.
“It looks like a really good book, I’ve been threatening to read it for over 5 years now. People seem pretty impressed with my ability to carry a book around for half a decade,” said Terry Horvath
Though he’s never actually read a single page of A Confederacy of Dunces, it’s proven to be a perfect prop to brood over at varying breweries and coffee shops around the city.
“The mere thought of reading the book is so powerful, so overwhelming, that I end up just moodily staring into the abyss hoping that an attractive woman notices and approaches me,” continued Horvath, tracing his finger seductively over the smooth cover of the book.