My mother has had a computer for several years, and uses it quite regularly to type documents. I discovered recently that she has a single word document on which she has typed everything ever. She just scrolls down to the bottom every time she wants to write something new. The document is 223 pages long.
From Sam

My dad refuses to write text messages because he says "the buttons are too small." He will only use the pre-written text options. His response to every text is, "Thank You," "I'm running a little late," or, "See you later."
From Mike, Kean University
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It's that time of year again. That one week of the year that you actually open your book and try to figure out what your major is. That's right...finals week. All of that not going to class and homework-copying will finally come back to run you over with some sweet, sweet karma. You see the Liberal Arts majors frollicking about campus, talking about going to the bars that night, how they finished all of their projects a week earlier, and have no tests to worry about. You hate them. Good, use the hate to fuel yourself. You're gonna need it. It's time for finals!

Outfit: Nice shirt, clean jeans. Hey - why not? You gotta dress for success!
Hygiene: Showered, shampooed/conditioned (2-in-1...good enough), and hair gelled to perfection.
Diet: A bowl of cereal in the morning, a sandwich for lunch, and some spaghetti for dinner. Oops! You spilled a little sauce on your jeans. No time for laundry now though, you've got more finals to study for!
Mood: Hopeful, chipper. This won't be as bad as last semester's finals, or the one before that, or the one before that, or...well, you get the idea.

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RULES: Leave your one best entry as a comment, not a reply. Winner, as chosen by a poll next week, gets a BustedTee. Hit the keep reading for last week's picture and nominees...

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Open on Alvin and the Chipmunks, at band practice. They begin to sing, but it quickly becomes apparent that something is off. Finally, Alvin snaps.

ALVIN: Ok, stop stop STOP. Simon, what the f*ck is your problem?
SIMON: Excuse me? MY problem? Last time I checked, we were a GROUP.
THEODORE: Guys, come on, not this again.
ALVIN: Shut up, Ted. You know that sounded like crap.
SIMON: Leave him alone, Alvin.
ALVIN: And Simon, where the hell were you on that major third?
SIMON: Oh, like your falsetto was perfect? You sound like a f*cking mouse.
THEODORE: Easy, Simon.
ALVIN: A MOUSE!? Do I look like a f*cking mouse to you?
SIMON: Do you really want me to answer that?
ALVIN: You have been bringing us down for WEEKS now, Simon. What is your deal?
SIMON: My DEAL is that I'm tired of listening to your holier-than-thou bullsh*t.
ALVIN: Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were Simon and the Chipmunks.
SIMON: And who put you first anyway?
THEODORE: It's alphabetical.
SIMON: F*ck THAT. He's constantly late to performances, he is always making Dave yell, and he refuses to make us letters for our shirts.
ALVIN: You know that wasn't my decision.
SIMON: Whatever, Alvin. I'm tired of following your lead. I don't care how many minutes older than me you are.
ALVIN: Five.
SIMON: WHATEVER. I'm too smart for this small-time musician crap. I wear GLASSES for pete's sake.
ALVIN: Now who's acting like holier-than-thou?
SIMON: I'm sorry, what? Did you even see the latest band posters?

Simon holds up a band poster, which is 90% taken up by a badass shot of Alvin. Simon and Theodore are barely visible in the background.

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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)

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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.

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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?
 

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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.

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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

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

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