Monthly Archives: March 2009

We never talked again

I was sitting at lunch with a couple of my friends. A new girl we just met was sitting across from me. She was telling me how her weekend was. Usually when I talk to people, especially girls, I’m all for the eye contact. However, as this girl was talking to me, she kept looking directly at my friend to the left of me. She kept talking on and on. She kept looking at my friend. I kept getting angrier and angrier. What was she doing? Was she messing with me or something? Finally, I couldn’t take it any more. I yelled at her-

“What are you doing!? Why are you looking at Steve when you’re talking to me!?”

Everyone at the table got dead silent and stared at me in horror. The girl looked at Steve and said to me-

“I have a lazy eye.”


Ronald McDonald Held Hostage

Flash back to October 31, 2006. Yes, that’s Halloween. You’re brilliant.

That night, my school’s girl’s volleyball team had a playoff game. I went because I was a big fan of the team. The fan theme for the game was cleverly titled “Halloween costumes”. My friend Jason wore a striped long sleeve shirt and a red curly wig. He then painted his face to look like a clown. This wasn’t just any clown, but the one and only Ronald McDonald. I had the pleasure of driving him to the volleyball game that night.

After the game, we were quite hungry from cheering on the team. However, Jason and I are two very cheap individuals and didn’t want to pay for anything. It took us no time at all to realize that Ronald McDonald was the mascot of McDonald’s, a popular fast food joint. We stopped by a McDonald’s on the way home. We hopped out of the car, walked into McDonald’s, and Jason/Ronald proceeded to yell to everyone currently in the restaurant,

“I’M HOME!!!”

Everyone stared at us. No one said anything. Why? Beats me. It was Ronald McDonald inside of a McDonald’s. It’s like being surprised that there are dogs in PetSmart.

After an awkward silence, we walked to the counter. Jason/Ronald calmly asked if we could just charge our meal to Ronald’s tab. The employees giggled, spoke to each other in Spanish, and rejected us. I quickly noticed that the employees were speaking Spanish and rephrased his question,

“Oh…I get it. Can we just put our food on Ronald’s el tab-o?”

As if saying “el tab-o” rather than “tab” was going to help. It didn’t. They rejected us. Rejection wasn’t new to us. Why else do you think we didn’t have girls with us?

We headed to Burger King down the street. Why Burger King? Because Burger King is the home of Ronald’s enemy, The King. We walked in to Burger King. Jason/Ronald clearly stated that he was Ronald McDonald and threatened to kill The King if the BK employees did not give us free food.

They did not give us free food. We killed the King. The King you now see on TV commercials is just a man in a big-headed mask, not the real King.

With our heads down due to the lack of free food, we trudged on to the car and drove to the other McDonald’s in the area. We were feeling violent from killing The King, so we went for another violent approach. We pulled up to the next McDonald’s drive thru. Jason/Ronald jumped in the back seat. I boldly flew past the ordering speaker and stopped at the first window. A friendly co-worker of Ronald’s reluctantly came to the window and asked what the problem was. I calmly told her that I have Ronald McDonald hostage and haven’t fed him for a week and that if her fine establishment did not provide him with free food, he would die. In the middle of my explanation, a clearly distressed Ronald repeatedly yelled, “HELP! I NEED FOOD!” I answered his calls for help with several hits to his head, a nice touch for our show. The McDonald’s employee laughed. I asked her how she could laugh at a time when her beloved mascot was on the verge of death. Through laughter, she kindly asked me to pull up to the second window. As we pulled up, every employee in the restaurant quickly came to the window to watch our spectacle. Ronald yelled for help and I kept hitting him. He said, “PLEASE! ALL I NEED IS A DOUBLE CHEESEBURGER!” I reiterated this and asked the kind employees for a double cheeseburger for Ronald. After fully absorbing the idiocy that was my life, one of the employees left. After more shouts from Ronald and more hits from me, the same employee came back to the window with a bag in her hand. She handed it to me and I threw it at Ronald, said thank you, and sped away. Ronald slowly opened the bag. Wahoo! There was a glorious double cheeseburger within! Sadly, I had forgotten to ask for two, so we had to share it. Ronald took the bigger half. Stupid clown.

So in your face all you Chipotle lovers – it’s possible to get free food on Halloween without dressing like a giant burrito and making a fool out of yourself.

How I Duped The Sun

Hey new readers. If you’re looking for real comedy gold (especially If you’re from CollegeHumor), check out my other articles. Make sure you subscribe for more stories of foolishness. If this is all stupid to you, there’s more comedy to be had at Go Anti Green.

Alright, one of the main things I’m doing with this blog is playing pranks/composing hoaxes and documenting them. It’s one of my last breaths of immaturity.

Lately on the internet, a lot has been going around with Google’s addition of The UK to Google Maps Street View. Also, if you’re a frequenter of any link aggregates like Reddit or Fark, you know that the British website The Sun seems like a glorified fake tabloid. They have a bunch of stories that are ridiculous and don’t have much of source. Anyways, I thought I’d capitalize on both of the mentioned facts.

I emailed The Sun, first with the email address I shot them a “frantic” note:

Hey Sun,

I need your help. One of my mates caught her husband cheating by using Google Street View. He’s a pig. Also, this really shows how the addition of the Street View is hurting people. I think this is a good story for you.



I picked the name Sasha Harris because Sasha sounds somewhat British and Sasha Harris is the prostitute that was involved with Sham-Wow Vince. Also, note how I used words like “mates” and “cheers”. This lulls the Brits into a false sense of security. Unfortunately, I couldn’t logically work the phrases ” ‘Ello Gov-na!” or “mind the gap” into the email.

Then, to back up the story, I emailed the sun from the email address to add a source. I sent them a picture of the said offending street view. The email was boring so I’m not going to post it, but The Sun quickly responded. They thanked me for the information and asked me if I was Mark Stephens, the media lawyer. I shrugged (even though they couldn’t see me shrug) and basically responded “yeah, sure”.

Apparently I hit a streak of good luck. I got the name Mark Stephens from one of those internet random name generators and went with it. I guess Mark Stephens is a known media lawyer in Britain.

I also got lucky because The Sun is a bunch of fools. The picture I sent wasn’t even a street view. I don’t even know if the picture was of an apartment building. It could be a commercial building for all I know. I just zoomed into London (because that’s the biggest city I know) and picked Victoria Street (because Victoria Beckham is a little bit attractive). Then I looked for some parked cars. I guess The Sun didn’t include the Street View picture in their story because they knew it wasn’t a Street View Picture at all and they just wanted to write a fun juicy story.

Look out world. There’s more to come.

Jack and the DPS Officer

Here’s my first account of an idiot teenager living to his namesake.

At our dorms at school, we have people called Department of Public Safety officers, or DPS officers, who work the front desk and check in everyone who comes in the building by swiping their ID. Last night, my friend Jack stumbled up to the DPS officer, highly intoxicated. Instead of giving the officer his ID, he handed over his cell phone. This was the first sign of his stupidity. Then the two had a conversation:

DPS Officer: Do you have your ID?

Jack: No.

DPS Officer: Then can you give me your ID number? I’ll just type it into the computer for you.

Jack: 312-555-4958

DPS Officer: Did you just give me your cell phone number?

Jack: No.

DPS Officer: Yes you did.

Jack: Yeah.

DPS Officer: Okay, well what’s your name?

Jack: Jack.

DPS Officer: Thanks, but I need to know your full name.


DPS Officer: Really? You’re talking about the whiskey, aren’t you?

Jack: …

DPS Officer: You can have a seat over there.

Jack sat down, threw up all over himself, and had to go to the hospital to get his stomach pumped. Teenage idiocracy in action. I’ll miss it