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CH Staff

Are You the Party Grenade?

by CH Staff on

Every party has one key ingredient. I’m not talking about beer or that smell. I’m talking about a Grenade, that one unattractive girl that a guy’s buddy has to “jump on” to clear the way for the seduction of her hot friend. Everyone fears having to take the grenade, but ladies, how can you tell if you are the grenade? Take this simple quiz:

Your body fat?
3% (1 point)
8% (2 points)
10% (3 points)
Yes. (4 points)

Which snack most accurately defines your body type?
Thin mints. (1 point)
Average-Weight Cheerios. (2 points)
Slightly Fat Baked Lays (3 points)
Morbidly Obese Baby Carrots (4 points)

How do construction workers heckle you?
“Hey, baby, you lookin’ for a good time?” (1 point)
“I’d like to airhammer that!” (2 points)
“You wanna see this piledriver in my pants?” (3 points)
“Did one of the oxen get loose again?” (4 points)

When dancing, what jiggles?
Nothing—my breasts are so perky, they barely move. (1 point)
My breasts and butt, but not in sync with each other. (2 points)
My entire body. (3 points)
The Earth. (4 points)

Fill in the blank: When I get stressed, I____
Exercise! (1 point)
Watch TV. (2 points)
Read. (3 points)
ME HUNGRY!!! (4 points)

Who is your role model?
Martin Luther King, Jr. (1 point)
George Washington. (2 points)
Your father. (3 points)
15 cheeseburgers. (4 points)

What is your favorite pizza topping?
Broccoli (1 point)
Olives (2 points)
Artichoke hearts (3 points)
Pizza bagels (4 points)

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Plastic Joe

So my uncle steals credit cards. It's kind of his thing. They once called him 'Plastic Joe' on the news, which he wildly objected to, claiming that it made him sound "like a Goddamn vibrator!" Anyway, when I was 11, the cops were raiding our house, looking for evidence to incarcerate my dear, misguided uncle. The whole family is on the porch, and my lazy-eyed dog... Read More » will not stop barking at the asshole police. They tell us that we had better shut the dog up, because he does have the authority to shoot it. I'm thinking that if he even tries to shoot my dumbass mouth breather dog, I'll punch him in the tooth. A couple of minutes later, another officer comes out of the house, and slams down a comically large orange envelope on the table, and blank credit cards and credit card paraphernalia spill out everywhere. The officer has death in his eyes, and demands to know who the envelope belongs to. Nobody says anything. But then smart ass 11 year old me stands up, and says dramatically, "Officer. Those are obviously mine. I'm a mafia crime lord. They call me Plastic Joe." I extend my wrists for cuffs. "Be gentle." The shit hits the fan. The officers get furious, my grandma is trying to tell them I was obviously joking, my sister is calling me stupid, and my uncle is laughing his balls off. 11 year old girl: 1 Cops: 0 Well, I mean...my uncle did end up getting arrested. So...maybe it's a tie.