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At some point on your college campus you have encountered the girl who believes that her skin-tight leggings are a completely legitimate form of pants. I don't know who told her that a thin piece of nylon would suffice, but they were fucking wrong.
A list of alibis for the common events you will encounter during your Spring Break trip to Las Vegas, ensuring that your friends and family will never find out just how much of a monster you really are.
Let's face it: ocean water tastes like shit. But what if it didn't? What if we could figure out a way to make it a refreshing cocktail? That's right, we must fight the rising sea levels by drinking them.
<p>The following is my personal version of <a href="/user/9">Nate DeGraaf</a>'s legendary <a href="/blogs/nathan-degraaf/snippets-archive">Snippets</a>.</p>
Rolling Stone had commissioned me to write a piece about modern day biker gangs. My destination was Arizona Bike Week, a festival that celebrates everything America loves about itself: bikes, beer, cheap sex, violence, drugs, and midgets.
If by some miracle I got the chance to talk to Shorty Shorts Man or Fancy Gym Guy, here is exactly what I would say.
With a slumping economy, neighborhood watch committees are turning to private contractors for surveillance, and what better way than to license helicopter services to keep criminals on the run?
In this eavesdrop, the cell phone conversation between a supermodel and an astrophysicist is snatched from the air. Let's listen in as the two deal with each other's physical and mental shortcomings.
You know those girls who walk out of a building and every penis within a 10-mile radius starts either begging its owner to turn around, or tucking itself and quivering in shame? You might not know it, but that, ladies and gents, is your slut factor.
Even if you're like, totally fucked up and in a wheelchair, you can still garden, okay? Millions of disabled people assume they can't, though.
You've just ended a relationship. All you want to do now is be left alone to wallow in self-pity and Oreo cookies, but your friends insist on taking you out to the bar. And you know this evening is going to end very badly. Here's a breakdown of the night.
If I was trying to decide between a human or a chimpanzee as a bodyguard, I'd choose the chimp every time. Would YOU try and punch a 200-pound chimp? Hell no. You're gonna cover your face and try your best not to soil yourself.