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.
I’ve been ALL about life hacks lately after a segment on The View revealed that smoking K2 synthetic weed has a similar effect to coffee if you’re feeling EXTRA tired in the morning. And once Whoopi Goldberg revealed the time she’s saved by shitting her pants instead of going to the bathroom, I was truly inspired! So when the opportunity presented itself to develop a game changing life hack while exiting a plane, I jammed a fidget spinner up my ass and started hacking!
Even if you’re at the back of the plane, getting off first is easy! All it requires is sacrificing your soul and becoming the sniveling little shit bag you always knew you were! Follow these quick steps and you’ll be off the plane in a jiff as the rest of the passengers wish death and disease on you and the rest of your family.
- Just as the plane touches down, start frantically moving your limbs about and nervously looking from front to back, this creates the anxiety vortex that should signal surrounding passengers you’re about to screw them all over
- Pinch off an eye stinging fart to create a diversion of sorts and maximize the amount of hatred directed toward you
- Consider and promptly disregard the fact that exiting the plane 15 seconds faster than the people in front of you qualifies you as a burden to humanity and an inarguable disappointment to everyone you know. But the sweet glory of saving 15 seconds make it totally worth it.
- Start creeping uncomfortably close to passengers in front of you, your stale peanut breath hissing into their ear and around their neck as you edge closer
- Skirt in front of them and stare like a goddamn aloof moron at the ceiling of the plane as the boos rain down
- Enjoy your 15 seconds like the shit king you are
Hollywood, CA-Ariana Grande just took the relationship that has captivated the nation by way of mindless content water boarding to the next level. The blitzkrieg of highly irrelevant happenings, which have been inexplicably force fed to the nation like a biscuits and gravy milkshake from Cracker Barrel, has officially reached a frenzy. In response to Pete Davidson’s tribute tattoo, Ariana Grande just unveiled a monstrous back piece that makes the guy from Red Dragon look like an absolute pussy. Omg! Steamy!
The piece itself is a lifelike candid of Pete Davidson taking a dump while reading the third installment in the Sisterhood of Traveling Pants series. Adorbz! Even more romantic? It was designed and executed by a Raven Symone impersonator at a county fair in Northern Indiana. Stahp! Just Stahp!
“I wanted to create a great piece of marketing content that would make me more relatable with the American public while also artificially moving our relationship forward, I’m really excited with how it turned out, I love when he reads Y.A. on the can!” said Grande of the monstrosity.
What will happen next in this blossoming romance? I’m sure you’ll find out whether you like it or not you piece of shit slob, so have this meaningless information push another childhood memory from your withering brain and enjoy!
-Characterless TMZ Reporter
Fuddruckers, Hammond-A picture of several uninteresting clouds accompanied by the caption “dreaming,” offered absolutely nothing to the unfortunate community of people too cowardly to unfollow an Instagram user whose posts had driven many to the point of app deletion in recent weeks.
Tops of coffee mugs, heaven, pictures of menus, eating, squirrel, animal, close-up selfie of their forehead, living…all an uncanny airline snack mix of ordinary yet somehow oddly unfamiliar.
The swarm of content all fueling the only measurable happiness in life, dying with the most likes. As the yodeling Walmart kid once said, “Whoever dies with the most likes wins,” You momentarily look at the idiotic picture and consider the prospect of ending the cycle of obligatory likes.
But they liked the picture of the piece of shit art you made last week and the throwback you posted of yourself huffing duster with someone who looks like Tim Allen, so you begrudgingly continue the cycle.
A dutiful social media follower who takes their responsibility of exchanging meaningless likes very seriously.
South Bend, IN-After years of flirting with the prospect, namely through a steady helping of eye stingers and false alarms which required boxers to be checked, one area man finally achieved something that most people only dream about.
“So I’m sitting there…the bathroom is a full flight of steps down…I’m having a great time staring into oblivion…and I say fuck it…enough foreplay! Today is the day I finally just dump my pants,” said Phil Biggins, through a string of violent coughing fits which only added to the unpleasantness of the stench invading the train car full of dismayed passengers.
The log resting limply between the ankle elastic on his pilled sweatpants represented to many, the next evolution in mankind. A shift in thinking that involves simply giving up. The ideology that a shit stained pair of sweatpants shouldn’t be just one man’s burden, but rather the burden of anyone within 200 feet of ground zero.
A long, dull sigh that accompanies walking slowly to the waste bin and sleepily throwing away another pair of ruined socks. The routine almost second nature.
“I had come so close, so many times…now this chapter is closed, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for me,” concluded a teary eyed Biggins, after a productive sneeze into the face of a newborn child.
Hammond, Indiana-Several Instagram followers were filled with an overwhelming sense of pride when a friend posted a picture of an object they just purchased on Instagram last week. “Just knowing that she is still capable of purchasing is a huge relief,” said one follower staring at lifeless object, somehow hypnotized by the boastful effigy of unbridled consumerism. Without this documentation of spending, it would be otherwise impossible to verify someone’s happiness.
Though the determination to purchase the item and the subsequent actual purchasing took under three minutes and contributed to a never ending cycle of acquisition, it is still unquestionably a feat worthy of celebration. And nothing is more jubilant than a picture of a stationery object. Pictures like these are what social media applications were built for, sterile receipts containing no humanity.
Even incorporating a person actually enjoying the purchase would compromise the otherwise tasteful and engaging picture of an object sitting in space. Simply stoic. Garnish with a self-satisfied caption, a shout out to the company that made it and several orgasmic hashtags describing how it’s the happiest day of your life and you’ll be poised to get four likes in no time.
Chicago, IL-On Tuesday, a man was seen standing obediently in the exit aisle of a CTA car like a stupid fucking hound waiting for an owner that would never return home. Outgoing passengers wrestled with the heaving mound of flesh before being birthed to freedom and glancing back in anger at the person gazing lifelessly into their iPhone, but the inconvenience of other passengers was of no concern to this very good boy who waited patiently by the door…stop after stop.
“Nothing will make you feel more alive than the stale air of a train platform hitting your face as the doors open, nor the feel of someone struggling against you to get off the train before the doors close, and most importantly, the happiness of your owner as you greet him at the door after a long day,” said Terry Naquin, visibly a human but somehow inheriting the intelligence and demeanor of a goddamn inbred dog.
With nothing better to do in life than perpetually riding a train, waiting to deliver a pair of slippers and a newspaper to a fictitious owner, this loyal old mutt will ruin train rides daily until he’s finally shipped off to “live happily ever after on a farm” somewhere.
Chicago, O’Hare Airport-A third party survey conducted by an unemployed copy writer from the now extinct SkyMall magazine, found that Auntie Annie’s remains America’s favorite microwaved airport soft pretzel. The survey universe consisted of several people farting it up in the Southwest cattle pens, as they wrestled for pole position for a flight that wouldn’t leave for another three hours.
The sample size was vaguely paunchy and unwell, wore soiled pajama pants and ill-fitting Life is Good shirts covered in old egg from Einstein Bros., an accurate representation of the entirety of the airport.
Four of five surveyed said they preferred Auntie Annie’s over any other microwaved soft pretzel options the airport had to offer. The one outlier maintained that buying a bag of pretzels from Hudson News and filling it with water to soften the pretzels before eating and drinking the salty water, was comparable to an Auntie Annie’s pretzel at a third of the cost.
After the survey, the ex-SkyMall employee retreated to his hidden compartment under one of the Sunglass Hut display cases, where he will slumber until an airport pretzel survey is requested once more.
Rockford, IL-In a panicked effort to uphold some perverse interpretation of something being called white heritage, which its existence in itself is baffling, inbred families and mutant friends alike gathered to erect a statue of Tim Allen within the confines of a highway median on the outskirts of Rockford.
The monument will be constructed from expired deli meat, bandages, Bluetooth headsets, unpaid credit card bills and DVDs. Vaseline and goat semen will be used as adhesive to hold the sagging structure in place. It will be surrounded by an above ground pool, which reverant bigots are encouraged to take a malnourished dump in for good luck before wading through the filth of their ancestors in order to kiss the discarded toenails that make the feet of the structure.
The monument is said to serve as a beacon for racists everywhere, a guardian of inequality, a visual manifestation of the sadness they stand for and the fundamental ability to crawl around in the hateful poops laid in above ground pool by like-minded idiots.
Rockford, IL-An Illinois man who recently completed his transformation to indistinguishable white dude, by way of getting a high and tight WWII style haircut, confirmed that he is more heroic than his grandpa who fought and died on the beaches of Normandy in World War II.
“I never claimed that what he did wasn’t courageous, my existence just transcends anything he did or could have hoped to do,” said A.J. Lauder examining his impeccable frown and puffed chest in the bathroom mirror at
“Posing for curated Instagram pics is essentially the same as taking another man’s life to protect the freedoms your country allows, as is drinking buckets of Coors Light and matching hella chicks on Tinder. These dog tags engraved with Imagine Dragons lyrics, are actually made from spent bullet casings and tungsten steal, bought them off of a Facebook ad,” continued Lauder between rips off of an enormous vape pen.
Bravery isn’t measure by the ability or willingness to do the right thing in a dire situation, nor is it standing up for oppressed groups otherwise unable to do so…it’s a combination measurement consisting of how hard your fade looks after a fresh trim, the amount of pomade used on a given day and the ability to not crack a smile in even the most enjoyable circumstance.
Bravery is going to a barbershop, getting the exact same haircut as every other thirty year old dude and skimping on the tip.