Crazy but true stories, exaggerated tales, short fiction, and poignant reflections, neatly packaged for your enjoyment. Submit an article »
Last week I was in Starbucks and someone called me a Communist. At first, I was upset because I thought she had called me a "columnist," a jab aimed at insulting the information I was providing to another person in line about the high-fat content of the soy latte. (A soy latte, by the way, is no better than a non-soy latte. Read More »
Before all the sick pedophiles and criminals had to go and ruin the social outlook on internet hookups, there was actually a time when young individuals like me could engage available girls in pithy dialogue and then crudely arrange the subsequent romantic encounters without much of a challenge, pretty much on a regular basis. Read More »
Life decisions were no longer being scrutinized and grudges were done taking root for now; family dinner had ended. Tonight, however, had been tamer than previous dinners. Tonight we had eaten Shake n' Bake and everyone adored Shake n' Bake. Read More »
"Is there a Nathan here?" asked a nurse.
"Yes, that's me," I replied.
"Molly wants to see you."
I was sitting in the waiting room playing Angry Birds on my phone to distract myself, thinking back on how all of this had started: simple goodbye sex. After all, I had needed a proper parting with all of Molly. Read More »
It started with boredom, and it snowballed into an emergency room visit. Well, there weren't snowballs involved, but snow was a definite factor. Read More »
Her name was Shaleen. Not Sha-leen, or Shay-leen, Shhh-leen. "My name is Shaleen." The words poured coldly out of her mouth as she introduced herself during our first shift together at the flagship Sizzler steakhouse in downtown Salt Lake City, Utah. "My name is Anna," I exclaimed in my friendly voice that I'd been practicing for my new Western home. Read More »
Maybe you live in a fine, quiet, suburban neighborhood; a place with money, and but one STD going around from a well-known culprit (hint: it's the hitchhiking hobo just come into town, and it ain't Jack Reacher). Not me. I live in what is termed "a poor man's Brighton." Seeing as Brighton is the gay capital of Europe, a haven for AIDS, thinking about what a poor man's penis must look like where I'm from is a sad state of affairs indeed. It is essentially one enormous genital wart. Nobody sleeps in a poor man's Brighton. Read More »
In my life I strive to avoid two things: inconvenience, and brainless idiots. Yet somehow I managed to find a place that conveniently carries both under the same roof: Oil Can Henry's. It's like some sort of "Teenagers Stricken with Fetal Alcohol Emporium." And they're even ballsy enough to call these people "employees." I think "employees" is used graciously in this context because it implies that they're doing a specified job for a previously agreed upon hourly wage. I assure you they are providing no desired service. Read More »
The number one rule of bullshitting: If you know you don't have the tools or experience, think of someone who does and pretend to be them. So for one evening, I was Laird Hamilton, soul surfer and fitness guru. But let's back up a bit. Read More »
This is not a day for fucking around. Today is a day for fraying steel nerves. Today is a day that snaps twigs like men. Today is a day for only blue or black ink. With a mouthful of coffee, a noseful of shoe-sole glue, and a slap in the face, you greet 6:00am with all smiles, and prepare for work. Read More »
I know this is a humor website, but all joking aside, I steal food. Please allow me to explain. I live alone in the middle of nowhere, and work out of my house, so occasionally I feel the need to get out of my place, very often to buy alcohol or hit on women, but mostly to keep myself sane by interacting with real people rather than the voices in my head. Read More »
1. The Speech
Good afternoon moms and dads and boys and girls and, well, everybody. I'm Vice Principal Rudd. Welcome to Porter Potter Elementary School's annual Spring Thing Carnival, a cornucopia of fun and delights. As you know, this festival is sponsored by the PTA and honors the founding father of our fair city, Porter Potter. Porter Potter, the inventor of the PortoPotty, The Crapper That Changed The West. Not only did this great man pioneer better more comfortable hygiene with his patented padded seat, he put to work, and his company continues to employ, the majority of citizens of Potter City today. Read More »
My husband Phil calls me a lazy cook and I don't know why. So what if I chop all ingredients as if I'm preparing stew chunky enough for Jack's Giant? Some people, especially barbarians and those who like to approach a meal as a challenge, prefer it that way. Just because I don't dice peppers with the elegance and care of a heart surgeon (if heart surgeons dice) doesn't mean that I'm lazy. It just means that I'm time efficient. Inefficiency in the kitchen not only calls for extra chopping, flipping, or stirring, it also requires superfluous cleaning, and that is another demand I won't stand for. Read More »
BOB: Male 50's conservative
JOHN: Male 50's conservative Fox News watcher
CLETUS: Hillbilly hip-hop gangster
BOB is driving his truck. JOHN is riding shotgun. Both are enjoying coffee. In any town ‘merica.
BOB: Anyhoo, I've been meaning to tell you something. Read More »
Scott F. Willard sat on his jail cell's cot and waited for the prison guard to take him to the courthouse, where he'd hear a lawyer try to convince a jury that he was an accomplice to mass murder.
It's not fair. I was just an actor—acting as a company's spokesman, Scott thought. When does acting deserve a death sentence? Well, maybe if you're a real bad actor you deserve death. But I was good! Maybe too good. But— Read More »