As the manager of the 1994 Chicago White Sox, I'm gonna have to call malarkey on this one.

Listen: we're not the Yankees or anything. We don't have a huge payroll with which to buy the best players. We don't have a lot of supportive fans. Hell, we're our own city's second favorite baseball team! How many teams can say that? Maybe us and the Mets, but that's about it. The point is, we're not bad guys here. We're supposed to be the underdog team with a Cinderella story.

Then, out of nowhere, the Angels out in California broke their 0-62 losing streak. Good for them, I thought. They were beyond bad. They were abyssmal. Their owner sold off most of their good, young prospects for coke money, their most dedicated fan abandoned his child, and in a wild publicity stunt, they hired Danny Glover to coach their team. The point is, they could use a win. They didn't really deserve a win, but you had to feel a little bad for them.  KEEP READING

Why are you so droopy? Come on, pep up!


Uh -oh, looking discolored. Looks like someone got too much sun.


Oh no, is that supposed to fall off like that?


Are you acting this way because it's so dry?


Are you suicidal? Is that it, is that the problem?


I'm trying to keep it moist, but not saturated, okay?! It's not easy!


Here, you need a little acid? Will that help?


Grow baby, why won't you grow?!


I've tried it in the bathroom, in the bedroom, in the living room, outside in the rain, nothing works!


I hate you, you temperamental assh*le!


I'm not treating your fungus! You're not worth it!
 

I love my roommates, so they all get limericks...YAY!

 

Where is a Starbucks?
Have you seen a cafe?
How am I without
Internet today?

What a terrible feeling!
So helpless, so lost.
I'll do what I must
No matter the cost.

I click on my airport
And what do I see?
A long list of names,
none familiar to me.

I see strings of letters,
And cute little names.
A dozen proud owners
Staking their claims.

"Don's wifi" ones says
"JESSweb" says the next.
All password protected
By numerical hex.  KEEP READING

How funny you look. God, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to laugh. No, I know it's rude. I'm sorry.
Likelihood your skin is this color
Feasibility of a career in professional tossing
Hiding places
Fear of doorways
Chances that standing oral sex is an option for you.
 

 

What if the nicknames of sports teams were a true reflection of the team and/or its players? FSN (Fake Sports News) proudly presents to you, last night's highlights in the world of Fake Literal Sports...

NewJersey Devils (NHL) vs. Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim (MLB)
This was a classic battle of good versus evil. Young center field prospect Jesus Christ turned in an MVP-like performance correctly pronouncing infielder Maicer Izturis' name an astounding two times, which the Angels' color commentator emphatically declared a "goddamned miracle". However, in the end, the Devils locked up an easy victory...seemingly too easy in fact. Angels' manager Mike Scoscia later admitted in a post game interview that he had sold his soul to the Devils' owner, Satan himself, for his career .259 batting average and a guaranteed spot in the Italian Baseball Hall of Fame. Joe DiMaggio and Tommy Lasorda, both long deceased, were on hand in spirit as the only other members.

Washington Nationals (MLB) vs. WashingtonRedskins (NFL)
This historical battle played out in front of an abnormally small crowd, as most scalpers had died off in the hours preceding the match. Led into Mayflower Sports Complex by star lefty Grain Alcohol, the Nationals came out absolutely gunning. Reliable catcher Small Pox blanketed the Redskins' offense. The energy in the building was contagious throughout the night as the home team literally raped and pillaged the opposition. The Redskins put up a valiant effort but in all honesty, it was like they brought a bow and arrow to a gun fight. The Nationals now look to their next opponents, the Cleveland Indians, as they continue their Manifest Destiny road trip to the west coast.

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April 21, A Long Time Ago
Dear Diary,
Does anyone ever think about how hot it is on Tatooine for a wookie? I mean, its 2891, you think they'd have some kind of air conditioning here by now. This shit is getting out of hand with Han. All we do is smuggle foreign alien crack from one planet to another. We've got a fat slug sending his bounty hunters after us, and now we've got some crazy old guy telling us something about some force bullshit, and that he'll pay us a bunch of cash to take him, another loony kid and 2 droids to some craphole Alderaan. I guess we could use the money to get Jabber or Jabba or Jibby the slug off our ass. I'll write again once we leave Alderaan.

Aggrivated and Hot,
Chewie

  KEEP READING

Written with Amir Blumenfeld.

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A hive of bees is alive and bustling. A human approaches, and is noticed by one of the bees, who turns to the swarm in a panic.

Bee #1: Fellow bees, look! The giant approaches!

(an audible gasp is heard across the swarm, as they freeze and stare at the shadowy figure in terror)

Bee #2: We must act quickly before it strikes!

Bee #3: This is the day we've all been training for! You know the drill. To your battle stati-

(he is distracted by a single bee in the midst of the swarm, tentatively raising his hand)

Bee #3 contd: Yes, Harold?

Harold: Um, yes, hi. Sorry to interrupt your speech, but don't you think this is a little...dumb?

(the swarm pauses despite their panic, shocked by Harold's audacity)

Bee #3: What is the meaning of this, Harold?

Harold: I mean...the giant doesn't seem on the offensive. It just appears to be leaking from some odd frontal protrusion.

(the swarm glances over to the human, who is drunkenly peeing in a nearby bush)

  KEEP READING

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Male Lifeguard: Look at that fat kid that just jumped in the pool!

Female Lifeguard: That's Wendall Blatt you gay idiot. How can you even tell he's fat, he's wearing a big t-shirt.

Male Lifeguard: Trust me, he's fat as sh*t. Why else would he try to hide his body under a t-shirt?

Female Lifeguard: Duh, it's more comfortable. I wish I could swim in a t-shirt, but my boobs are too big.

Male Lifeguard: Doesn't my nose look retarded with this sunblock and aren't my glasses too big for my pea sized head?

Female Lifeguard: Yes.

Male Lifeguard: I'm a gay ass loser and now I'm going to blow my whistle at Wendell and tell him to stop hanging on the lane line.

Female Lifeguard: He's not hanging on the lane line, he's resting for one second, relax. You don't know how hard it is to swim in a soaking wet oversized t-shirt.

Male Lifeguard: Oh my God the water is changing colors near him. I think he's peeing. Look he's looking around to see if anyone is noticing.

Female lifeguard: So what? The pool is freezing. I pee in the pool all the time. God my nipples are hard.

  KEEP READING

Mathematics: Carve all of the formulas into the wooden notches of your abacus. Proctors can clear the memory of a TI-89, but they won't take the time to sand down your addition machine.

English: Discreetly conceal The Complete Works of Shakespeare under your tattered Pink Floyd hoodie.

Communication: Unnecessary. If you really need answers, just ask the guy sitting beside you. Your professor is probably willing to help out, too.

Theater: Use an understudy and sleep in. This is especially effective if your character wears a mask.

Philosophy: Get "enlightened" before the test. Like, enlightened out of your skull. Remember to bring snacks.

Contra: Up up down down left right left right B A start

Business: Politely remind the professor that you are a scholarship athlete.

Biology: Train a parrot to squawk the answers, and bring him to class. Your professor is likely an animal rights activist, so there's no chance he'll remove the bird from the classroom. (Unless it poops, then all bets are off.)

Elementary Education: Write the answers on the inside of your 64-color Crayola box.

Art: Starve a dog. Paint the answers on its exposed ribs.

Physics: Change majors. Seriously, what were you thinking?
 

  KEEP READING

 

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Male Lifeguard: Look at that fat kid that just jumped in the pool!

Female Lifeguard: That's Wendall Blatt you gay idiot. How can you even tell he's fat, he's wearing a big t-shirt.

Male Lifeguard: Trust me, he's fat as sh*t. Why else would he try to hide his body under a t-shirt?

Female Lifeguard: Duh, it's more comfortable. I wish I could swim in a t-shirt, but my boobs are too big.

Male Lifeguard: Doesn't my nose look retarded with this sunblock and aren't my glasses too big for my pea sized head?

Female Lifeguard: Yes.

Male Lifeguard: I'm a gay ass loser and now I'm going to blow my whistle at Wendell and tell him to stop hanging on the lane line.

Female Lifeguard: He's not hanging on the lane line, he's resting for one second, relax. You don't know how hard it is to swim in a soaking wet oversized t-shirt.

Male Lifeguard: Oh my God the water is changing colors near him. I think he's peeing. Look he's looking around to see if anyone is noticing.

Female lifeguard: So what? The pool is freezing. I pee in the pool all the time. God my nipples are hard.

  KEEP READING

  KEEP READING

Left-Side-Of-Brain: Hmm, what do you want to dream about tonight, Hank?
Right Brain: Falling off a cliff?
Left Brain: ...You always say that...
Right Brain: How about that cute girl in English? I'd like to anec her dote!
Left Brain: Not tonight, Jason's with his girlfriend.
Right Brain: Fine party-pooper, you start us off...
Left Brain: Alright. Jason, you are playing Guess Who in your living room. All your friends and family are there. You guess your opponent's character in one turn. Everyone goes nuts! Someone hands you a prize. You open it.
Right Brain: It's a big, black dildo! Then you start making out with Lindsay Lohan!
Left Brain: Huh?
Right Brain: Out of nowhere you starting falling from an airplane! Oh crap, your penis just fell off of your body!
Left Brain: God damnit! He has an exam tomorrow. He needs good sleep! Jason, you are not scared. You are not feeling panicked. Although you are falling from the sky, you are completely relaxed. You look to your right and you see a beautiful -
Right Brain: Criss Angel. He's nude and he's putting hot wax on his testicles.   KEEP READING

Walter is seventeen years old, in a suit, and driving fast. The only thing sitting shotgun is a bouquet of roses he just picked up. His thoughts are energizing him...

Tonight is the night I prove everybody wrong. Little Walter Wivlak's all grown up.

"Hey Walter," they yelled, "What's the matter homo, can't get a date to the prom?"HA! Time to prove you wrong Mr. Parsons. Mr. World's meanest math teacher ever!

I worked my ass off for this night... raising money the old fashioned way -- playing World of Warcraft until I earned a Stealhawk Crossbow then selling that for $600 on a fantasy message board. Spent that money on a Russian lesbian mail-order prom-date/wife.

I even spent $140 of MY OWN MOM'S MONEY buying her a blue lace bikini/skirt get up so that she can attract maximum attention to her hot bod and ultimately me.

When she asked for another $280 to bring her sister over to the states, I thought she was just taking advantage of me. But after a few written guarantees that it was indeed her sister and not just her lesbian girlfriend, and a quick eBay sale (Good bye bed!) things were as right as rain again. Hell I'll sleep on the floor for the rest of my life to have this girl all to myself for just one night.

Just one night...

Walter arrives, grabs the flowers and starts running.  KEEP READING

  KEEP READING

It's surprisingly easy to learn a lot about your instructors based on the messages they send you. Check it out.

  KEEP READING