Rockford, Illinois-An e-cigarette and e-cigarette accessory store has created an offer that will submerge you in the illusive vape culture that has escaped so many. Rivaled only by the Free Masons in terms of barriers to entry and undying dedication, vape ethos has seemed impossibly distant to normal people. But VaperzParadize in Rockford Illinois is changing everything with their new vape starter kit. A kit that thrusts you into forbidden realm and gives you the tools you need to succeed at relentlessly sucking on a device that has roughly the same dimensions as a Capri Sun and filled with cotton candy flavored nicotine water.
VaperzParadize realizes that vaping isn’t just some transitory fad, it is a way of life. Something that defines you. To elevate the already predisposed assumption of sophistication that accompanies vaping, four completely essential items are included with all e-cigarette purchases.
- Fedora-Nothing accentuates four flaccid fingers awkwardly holding an e-cigarette like a fucking fedora. Pulled straight from Rob Kardashian’s new “Big Head Small Hat” line
- Criss Angel Master Mindfreak Volume 6 Blueray DVD-The only thing cooler than vaping is magic, more importantly not knowing how to do any magic, but being a celebrity magic connoisseur
- Blue Tooth Headset-Why bother holding a phone when you could be double fisting two vapes of differeing flavors while chatting with buddies about consuming loneliness and the prospect of being a failure of a father someday
- 10% off Tilted Kilt coupon-No real explanation needed for a 10% off coupon for a restaurant of this esteem. Buckets of domestics and wondering why you’ve been crying yourself to sleep for weeks. Also the feeling of cantaloupe flavored vapor delicately whisking a Wicked Boston Big Arse Burger down your cram-hole is completely unrivaled
So jumpstart your descent into the mist. Get the e-cigarette you needed not the e-cigarette you deserved.
Chicago, IL-The newest way to spend money that you don’t have in order to generate Instagram content and spare yourself from any type of self-reflection or original thought is officially here! Escape Hole is the newest player, in the luxury, leisure self-confinement industry. But unlike other escape rooms in which guests are forced to solve ill-conceived riddles with coworkers and family members they find tolerable, Escape Hole is the first ever solo escape room.
Guests are locked in a tiny room, containing only a baby pool filled to the brim with a combination of Heinz Mayonnaise, 2% milk and your choice of scented or unscented Vaseline. The room itself has a variety of burlap lined holes and crevices, each unnaturally small, for the person to strip down and try and birth through.
Unlike other escape rooms, you’ll feel the crushing paranoia of having to probe and prod the different crevices to find out which one you can desperately cram your flesh into to ooze out the other side.
But there is light at the end of the tunnel! If you escape successfully, your greased and scratched body will be spewed into the adjoining Fuddruckers where you can enjoy a heaving burger with other lonely, pathetic participants.
Have you ever wanted to mindlessly lap up a stranger’s stagnant toilet bowl of digital waste, but didn’t want to deal with the backbreaking hassle of actually holding your phone? Popsocket. Who the fuck has the supernatural focus required to not perpetually drop a five ounce ergonomically correct rectangle? Popsocket.
If you’re like most people, your withering hands don’t have the strength or coordination to do something as advanced as maintaining a loose grip on something you use virtually every day, that’s why the makers of Big Mouth Billy Bass have created an idiotic circle that attaches to the back of your phone and announces to the world you’re an incapable little pissant.
The nipple extension, as it were, can pop in or out and provide the additional mental and physical strength your rapidly deteriorating body and mind need to grasp the only reality you know. Be ready to enter any room like the overconfident mass of characterless beige matter you are AND have the added benefit of never having your phone slip! Buy some more garbage today!
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.
Chicago, IL-An Uber driver with an unwilling audience trapped in the confines of his 2003 Chevy Malibu just dropped the “but” heard round the world. The passengers had been subject to several other uninteresting stories which passed with relative passivity, more or less exposing a somewhat sad life that paired perfectly with the scent of wet dog and cigarettes plaguing the soiled cloth interior of the car.
Though just as the riders settled into what they believed to be a 15 minute penance of mundanity, the Uber driver figured that because they had entered into a contract in which he drove them to a certain location in exchange for payment, it was the perfect time to unveil some deep seated racism.
“You know, I’m not a racist,” the Uber driver muttered, glancing in the rearview mirror seeking some type of conciliatory eye contact, the passengers braced themselves for the atrocity that was surely coming, the horrific amending qualifier that would cause one passenger to swallow his entire fist and the other to recite the entire script to the movie Last Vegas in ancient Hebrew.
“But,” said the cab driver before launching into a lunatic story in which race should have been completely irrelevant. The statement prior to the qualifier obviously making him exempt from any kind of judgement, as, if someone audibly states they are not racist, it gives them free reign to spew hatred at will.
The ride mercifully ended at some point or another, the driver fell asleep, like every other night, alone to the laugh track of Last Man Standing with a 5th of Vodka and a tear soaked pillow.
Mundelein, IL-An area woman who has been spewing her uninteresting consciousness onto Instagram for unfortunate followers to lap up and occasionally give an obligatory “like” to in an effort to maintain a dwindling friendship, has come under fire after followers realized there was virtually no difference in her daily “vibes” posts.
In order to fill the momentary gap in which there is absolutely nothing else to announce, share, react to, or offer an ill-informed opinion on, one woman has resorted to posting a flurry of heavily filtered selfies with indeterminable, albeit emotionless expressions accompanied by thoughtless captions like “Friday Vibes.”
Followers became suspicious after every single day of the week’s vibe appeared identical, raising concern whether or not the person is a computer program attempting to convince the world it was human.
“People deserve to know what I’m feeling! Even if it’s literally nothing at all!” said the woman passively scrolling through an endless world of meaningless content.
(This in no way reflects the person below who vehemently opposes vibez pics, tho the picture was just too perfect not to use)
Rockford, Illinois-A new NBC gameshow, transcendent in both idea and relatability, has been sweeping the nation since its highly anticipated debut on Monday night. Did I Shart My Pants or Nah? Is the newest hit game show that has brought the country to its knees.
Hosted by someone who looks like Steve Harvey’s brother and named Chip Crabs, the show involves married couples sitting in an elaborate contraption and exchanging farts, after each rip, they are required to guess whether or not their partner sharted their pants. Judges then check under garments for blowouts to determine if the guess is correct. Each correct guess earns them a crisp two dollar bill, with the potential to earn up to $60 in exchange for humiliating themselves on live television.
Several obscure critics who actually watched the show are calling Did I Shart My Pants or Nah? “A bath in the sewage of mankind,” “A fart filled romp,” and “Nothing can break up the week like breaking wind!” So tune in to Did I Shart My Pants or Nah? to find out which contestants will have to use the prize money to buy a new pair of pants!
Washington, D.C.-In another act of enduring incompetence, rivaled only by the initial stupidity of destroying the internet, the repeal on Net Neutrality has been re-repealed. The panicked order came only days after the initial repeal, after FCC Chairman and national symbol for spineless lackeys, Ajit Pai, discovered that the internet was necessary for streaming high definition pornography.
“I don’t know a lot about the internet, but what I lack in knowledge for the internet, I make up for in knowledge of hardcore pornography, huffing keyboard duster, and being incapable of wiping my own ass” said Pai, smugly taking a long pull from his duster canister.
Pai has dubbed himself the savior of the internet and the messiah of streaming.
“Everyone should have the inherit right to return home from a job they tolerate, to an unfulfilled wife, and watch PornHub while huffing duster without worrying about throttle or lag. I know I’m sleeping easier,” continued Pai, between quiet sobs into the loving arms of a Comcast executive.
Hollywood, CA-The unanimous titan of creating semi-outdated popular music compilations has made another splash in a thriving mixed CD industry which appears as timeless and lucrative as gold or silver. NOW That’s What I Call Music! will pioneer in a new, more sophisticated era of music with an album compiled solely of vuvuzela covers. The 72 minute horn epic will be conducted and curated by none other than famed jazz vuvuzela composer Bill Biscane.
“The fact that any morsel of pop music created in the last five years is microwaved bath water affords me certain creative liberties while doing vuvuzela covers, actually the dull drone of a plastic horn is more challenging than anything you’d hear on the radio,” said Biscane meticulously rearranging his collection of colored plastic horns.
For only four payments of $19.99 pop music fans can hear someone slobber on a novelty toy for almost a full hour as they repeatedly attempt and fail to wipe their own ass.
Critics are calling NOW That’s What I Call Vuvuzela Music! ”The complete realization of the deterioration of popular music,” “Something to listen to while taking a painful, nutrient deprived dump in your piece of shit apartment,” and “An album that a grazing herd of inbred goats may enjoy, which makes its popularity that much more alarming.” So buy the album today!
Chicago, IL-On Thursday, an already stagnant conversation was mercifully put down like a sickly hound after an area dullard managed to muster arguably the most lukewarm joke in history. The discussion, which had all of the vigor and sophistication of the lips and buttholes comprising hotdog filler, involved an article that one of the parties had read online. Taking this is a que to wipe the drool from his chin and offer something utterly forgettable, Phillip Biggins sprang into action.
“So I says to her I says…”Yeah because if you read it online it HAS to be true!” That coupled with a well-timed eye roll and a self-satisfying grin gets them every time!” said Biggins of the woefully boring incident.
The statement that has functioned as a historical crutch for people with absolutely nothing to say, but still find themselves compelled to contribute.
“When I saw the polite smile and her visibly trying to think of an excuse for how to promptly exit the situation, I knew it was time to extend the joke by saying “Everything on the internet is true!”” continued Biggins, fondly recalling her sheepish smile, ripe with pity.
Biggins retreated to his studio apartment later that night and fell asleep by himself watching reruns of Two and a Half Men.