Chicago, IL-On Friday, a painful text exchange between two adults who were incapable of dispensing actual thoughts or desires climaxed with the promise of intermittent status updates. The illusion of actual attendance had been precariously dangling from the beginning as words like, if, maybe and possibly were hurled about in regards to actually showing up to the party itself. But in order to cheer the person up who may or may not have wanted them there in the first place, a string of texts teasing an imaginary arrival followed.
“We’ll definitely try and get there at some point.”
“Still at this party, trying to leave soon!”
“Are you guys still partying over there? Might be able to come in about an hour.”
“Uber is surging! Going to wait it out a bit, save me a beer!”
“I’m with like 20 other people, is it cool if they come too?”
“Sorry man, it’s getting late, let’s chill at some point in the next 5 years! Hope tonight was a blast!”
The vague promises functioned only as a nuisance to the host of the party who was more or less indifferent to their presence while also confirming an inevitable fact that could have been solved in a text message with ten or fewer words.
But the game of mundane, inconsequential chicken must be played because we are human and we are cowards.
Chicago, IL-After 7 years of wholehearted neglect, bordering on purposeful sabotage, Mayor Emanuel has decided to give back to the city he destroyed. Unprecedented rat swarms, soaring murder rates, and failing schools are all prized achievements for a city being used as the Mayor’s personal glory hole. Though as his resignation looms Rahm now scrambles to save his legacy while also properly lubing the glory hole for the next sadistic fuck to have a go at it.
“One thing that I have never faltered on in my disgraced time as Mayor is the idea that if we can teach at risk youth to slack line even half as good as any given Phish fan, it could save this city,” said Emanuel looking like an absolute sniveling little tattletale on the Brown Line.
Formal education, economic assistance or fundamental investments in community have all been passed on in favor of blowing the rest of the city’s budget on a top of the line school which will teach an activity generally reserved for unsuccessful burnouts.
“Watch me do it! I mean this is really hard!” said a grinning Emanuel to a group of uninterested and confused students as he wobbled on the idiotic rope hung between two trees.
So as the city crumbles, we’ll at least have several pockets of children who have been forced against their will to learn how to slack line.
Rockford, IL-On Saturday, an area man appeared to mean fucking business at the gym as he smugly paraded around in, what anyone training to do a moronically themed 5K would wear, Vibrams 5 Finger shoes. The shoes, which were originally believed to be a pair of crudely fashioned gardening gloves by other gym attendees, turned out to be none other than a shoe that somehow looks equally as idiotic.
Nonetheless, the shoe instantly let everyone at the gym know that this guy planned to make his workout appear extremely difficult. Constant trips to the water fountain, lots of audible, labored breathing and uncomfortable staring at other gym members and most importantly, having his elaborate routine span across no less than 70% of the available gym equipment, making it virtually impossible for anyone else to actually workout.
“You think our ancestors had a goddamn pair of Nike’s when they trained for a Turkey Trot or Shamrock Shuffle or Allstate Hot Chocolate Run/Walk or Spartan Blast or Enron Elephant Walk?” said Terry Mitchell briefly pulling out one of the ear buds on his pair of Dog the Bounty Hunter, Oakley MP3 sunglasses.
“Think again asshole, I don’t fuck around with my for-profit fun runs,” continued Mitchell, taking off one of the shoes to reveal a disfigured hoof and noting that the shoes were helping him reach the next stage in human evolution.
As long as for-profit, Instagram bloated 5K’s exist, so will people who prefer to wear a foot condom over actual shoes.
Mundelein, IL-The executives at Sundance Beverage Company have officially ceased production of bong water flavored La Croix. The short lived flavor was rolled out as a promotional drink at McDonald’s to accompany the start of McRib season and to function as the alleged perfect pairing to dislodge the rib shaped patty that will undoubtedly get stuck in the windpipes of Americans everywhere.
“This country has come a long way. We thought that given the current social and political climate, by adding bong water essence to normal water we could tantalize the cardboard palate of morons everywhere. It will mean salvation for most, as they lay down their palm leaves for the second coming of coffee flavored Monster Energy and worship at its carbonated alter,” said Sundance Executive Bill Biscane, cracking into a test can of ground beef flavored La Croix.
Unfortunately American’s will have to go back to the old fashioned way of licking it off of a shag carpet after their hesher buddy spilled it trying to reach for a well worn and particularly crusty Playboy issue.
Drinking sports drinks with dinner is about as elegant as it gets. Nothing compliments a beautiful cut of meat or fish like artificially flavored nectar of gods. Painstakingly milked directly from Zeus’ left tit. It’s also great for replenishing electrolytes lost from sweating during a challenging artisan meal. The problem with so many different flavors is that it can leave people with cardboard pallets embarrassed and overwhelmed. Knowing the proper Gatorade food pairing can make the most feeble simpleton into a sophisticated gourmand.
Pairing 1: Fruit Punch Gatorade paired with 50 year dry rub aged Wagyu beef, pickles ramps, aerated house made kimchi purée
Let the high fructose corn syrup gently massage your tongue just like the tired muscles of the cow you’re eating after a long day of grazing in the scenic hills of a rural Japanese farm. The toothsome red potion prepares your taste buds for an onslaught of gorgeously funky flavors that will make you question if what you’re eating is actually beef. The electrolytes function as transportation as they wash down the beef, contributing to a lengthy pastoral finish. The contrasting flavors of sophisticated frat jungle juice and rustic farm to table are simply to provocative to resist. Add in the pickled ramps and aerated kimchi because adding anything pickled and or aerated makes it refined by default.
Pairing 2: Lemon Line Gatorade with free range pan seared marlin drizzle with vintage distilled Evian parmesan glaze. Served on a bed of organic, gluten-free, apple cider vinegar glazed kale
A rather predictable fusion of citrus and sea, however the quaintness of such a pairing is actually the culprit of every foodie’s love affair with it. The irony behind conforming to such traditional tastes only increases the intrigue, as the descent into traditional rustic fare provides both comedy and deliciousness. The braveness behind such a plebian effort is an applaudable feat alone. An underhanded ode to those with unevolved pallets.
Pairing 3: Grape Gatorade paired with made from scratch, individually crafted bowtie pasta, basted with an unpasteurized creamy Rosé blend, topped with a healthy pour of unrestrained black truffle shavings and unrestrained aged cheese
Every foodie knows a meal isn’t officially Italian until it’s been sufficiently covered in lavishly expensive black truffle shavings. And what better way to wash down those individually, hand crafted, raw bowtie noodles than a drink that resembles the crudeness of the grapes found in the vineyards of Tuscany? The buttery artificial grape flavor is the perfect vessel for unpasteurized cheese. It propels the artisan meal down your throat like a cool stream running through a tiny village in Italy completely unfazed by time. The marriage of sweet and savory creates an umami that is completely and utterly unrivaled, so don’t even try.
Animal Heaven, Carbondale, Illinois-Buster, a deceased Jack Russell Terrier of a decade, was happy to find out that his name combined with the universal number for weed smoking was now a password for his former owner to login to varying sites to toil in an endless shit storm of menial tasks.
“Buster420…I can’t believe I’ve been commemorated by something as special as a password. Knowing that whenever he is paying bills he can’t afford, logging in to his premium porn subscription, or accessing his work computer to wade through an eternal to-do list of insignificance…He’s thinking about the times we had,” said Buster looking down from the known pet heaven located above the Tilted Kilt in Carbondale.
Other animals looked on warmheartedly, astutely aware of the undeniable happiness that accompanies being immortalized in a password.
Before computers, the only way to reminisce on a deceased family member was fond memories and photographs that celebrated life. Thankfully we can now have a fleeting recollection as we begrudgingly labor over tiresome daily responsibilities.
Chicago, IL-A forgettable party guest who may or may not have been the bastard brother-in-law of a glue sniffer who probably wasn’t invited to the party in the first place, made it clear that he was going to be a social burden the rest of the night by announcing, I come bearing gifts, while hoisting a 6-pack of Heineken that he would undoubtedly hoard the rest of the night.
The other guests navigated around him with a weariness generally reserved for Gristle & Goyder night at Ponderosa steakhouses in Northern Indiana. Each one knowing that at some point they would ultimately succumb to the infected flesh wrapped in garments from Trunk Club.
Now the only determination was for how long and by what excruciating conversation topic would they be forced to spill their melted brains on the cat hair infested floor. Thinly veiled racism? Recent sexual conquests? Professional goals? All Bird shoes? Ashton Kutcher’s time on Two and a Half Men? Early onset erectile dysfunction? Crying themselves to sleep on a nightly basis? Everything. Nothing.
Fortunately wasting away in an inescapable conversation with someone you’ll never talk to again is time well spent when that person is drinking a 6-pack of mediocre beer. Enjoy a Heineken today.
Chicago, IL-In an effort to have something deeply personal and otherwise meaningless to anyone outside of family and friends go viral, a Chicago man hired the famed, wholly unobjectionable, Blue Man Group, to perform at the gender reveal party he was having.
“I had to do something special, something that a ton of strangers would eventually see and possibly even show other strangers! That’s something both the wife and I agreed upon as a huge factor in getting pregnant,” said Terry Kibby, watching in awe as the Blue Man Group used a Yankee Candle to play a drum set made out of uncooked ground beef.
As the Blue Man Group continued to play, Kibby grew unsure of his decision fearing that by hiring the group, it limited the gender potential of the baby. The Blue Man Group would never show up pink, they had signed their souls to the reptilian shapeshifting elite after all. And though the asinine spectacle was as indulgent and self-gratifying as he could possibly hope for, he mourned that the baby growing within his wife would not be able to decide its gender through an exploding baseball like other reveals.
Just as this sentiment sank in, he heard a whir behind him, he glanced back just in time to see his wife wielding a sock full of quarters, as the sock made contact with his skull, a plume of pink mist sprayed into the air. Guests remained uncertain if it was blood or chalk, but they cheered knowing that the baby was either a boy or girl or neither.
In time he would get to experience more happiness than his heart could hold, his very own viral moment. Something he would lord over his resentful son for the rest of his life.
“Having this little bastard was totally worth,” said Kibby, watching the likes, favorites and retweets amass.
Hollywood, CA-The show Man vs. Food on the travel channel is seeking a new driveling slob to function as a beacon of sadness for all of humankind to relate to. The previous Man vs. Food host Casey Webb, who replaced the rapidly deteriorating Adam Richman, left the show after a dispute in his contract in which he refused to eat a rotting donkey carcass in front of a crowd of nude elders in a sauna at XSPORT Fitness. Though a week before he had consumed a cat turd off of a white hot hibachi grill, there are some lines that can’t be crossed.
“We’re looking for someone whose face can contort in such a way that the audience can visibly tell their organs are collapsing. Their eyes should be those of someone being held hostage under threat of physical violence if they don’t finish whatever grotesque bucket of slop we pile drive down their drooling cram hole,” said Man vs. Food recruitment manager Alphonso Knutson.
The turnover rate has been incredibly high for the host of the show as all prior hosts have succumbed to the same fate of a blown ring piece caused by a several month long fart.
“Someone who is discernably spiritually and physically unwell is the ideal candidate, extra jaundiced and oddly sweaty if possible!” continued Knutson using a plunger to shove an 8 lb burrito down the new hosts trembling lips.
If you’re feeling violently ill, don’t even think about staying home. Stupid. Careless. Classless. That’s right, you’ll never actually shake that cold by staying home and meticulously nursing yourself back to health. No not at all. You need to be surrounded by other healthy people who are only made aware of your condition by productive nose blowing, labored breathing and forceful hacking that your tiny fist has no chance of containing. Let’s not forget the whiplash inducing sneezes that create a visible mist that falls gently onto your neighbor’s keyboard like fresh dew onto a perfectly manicured lawn on the first day of spring…they don’t care, they’re just happy you’re there…everyone is.
Why would you possibly burn a PTO day staying home when you could be a completely useless burden to everyone in the office? Nothing like visibly and audibly wrestling with the effects of the Nyquil binger from the night before…not to mention whatever the hell you’re sipping on this morning to keep your lungs from falling out of your ring piece. Cough medicine induced tantrums in the middle of meetings are grounds for a raise, so sip away. Succumb to the delirium as you consider the idea that the computer is in fact controlling you.
It’s not as though any of your nebulous digital work could be done at home. Sending emails that no one looks at. Creating digital waste to blast into the abyss. No, none of that could be done from home because your coworkers wouldn’t then have the delight of seeing your lifeless grey and beige complexion and smell your teeth that you neglected to brush. Just remember they’re only concerned about your health not their own, so lean on them as much as possible…it’s not selfish at all…it’s what they want.
So next time you grow predictably ill, go in and sweat it out with the best of them in your ergonomically correct desk chair as you stare into a computer screen that’s as lifeless as you.