Category Archives: Humorous

Feb 24 2012
28 Comments
Fiction, Humorous

Karen’s Unicorn: Gym Nuisance

this is after she was arrested and executed for manslaughter and then put on display as an artifact

So I saw Karen’s unicorn at the gym last night. She was benching about 250 in that belly shirt of hers, all her glittery unicorn flesh just hanging out for the entire gym to see and of course she was sporting those short shorts, prancing around the gym every chance she got. And that dumb swooshy tail of hers that she whips around nonstop, spraying toxic magic dust everywhere—-swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, like she’s the freaking queen of the dumbbells.

It’s pretty ridiculous if you ask me. And she never wipes the machines down. Never. So if you use one after her, you’re definitely going to get unicorn dust all over you and God knows what’s going to happen after that. I heard it can even be addictive, like you get some kind of unicorn buzz and colors are more vibrant and you feel alive, but then immediately afterwards you’re a wreck. Life loses its meaning and everything tastes like ash. People have died from this so I don’t think it’s too much to ask her to wipe down the freaking machines.

And just because she’s a unicorn, she thinks she’s so special, like she deserves to use the stationary bike for longer than 30 minutes. Well, I’ve got news for you, sugar, just because you’re a minxy tart of a shimmery, magical creature doesn’t give you the right to come into our gym, coat our machines with your poisonous dust, and then trot out of here on your pearly hooves like you own the place. What forest did you prance out of that you think this is okay? What does Karen have to say about this? Why are you using the treadmill anyways? Isn’t there some mystical wood that you can go romp around in with your other deviant friends? Can’t you just leave us non-magical folk in peace and not torment us with your sweet, sweet unicorn dust?

Do I even have to mention the experience of using the bathroom after her? It’s a nightmare. The stall is so heavily scented with cinnamon and vanilla I can hardly breathe. Literally I almost suffocated when I was changing clothes. If that wasn’t bad enough, my shoe touched one of her mane hairs left on the ground and the whole thing turned into a flock of yellow butterflies that just fluttered away.

Do you see my point here? My shoe flew away. This was my shoe, that I had purchased to wear for the purpose of engaging in athletic activity, and it flew away. This is simply unacceptable. Karen’s unicorn has got to go. I can’t stand the thought of seeing her again, doing squats with her majestic unicorn might, her belly button ring glinting in the  fluorescent lights. Do you know how distracting that is?

And I want her to buy me a pair of shoes and/or catch the flock of butterflies. Am I being unreasonable?

Tagged , , , , , , ,
Feb 17 2012
15 Comments
Fiction, Humorous, Three minute read

I’m Using Someone Else’s Toothbrush

Who is using my toothbrush now?

Warning: This is bizarre.

It starts out just like a regular tooth brushing session. Wearing socks, I step into the bathroom and turn towards the mirror. For roughly a minute, I examine my face for new developments, leaning as close to my reflection as possible. Finding everything accounted for, I stand back up and reach for my toothbrush. I wet it, squeeze toothpaste onto it, open my mouth wide, and then set it against my right lower molars. The brushing begins.

And then it happens. I am suddenly and completely convinced that the toothbrush I’m using is not my own. It’s someone else’s. I’m using someone else’s toothbrush. Who is it? What if they find out? What if it’s my roommate’s and she walks by and sees me because I don’t shut the door when I’m just brushing my teeth? Would she be mad at me? Would she say nothing, walk away, and then leave a note by the sink asking me not to use her toothbrush. Would she bring it up

over dinner and say “Hey, you can totally use my toothbrush, but just make sure you ask me beforehand.” or would it be more like a roundabout story of how in her family, everyone always used their own toothbrushes and she guesses it’s just a personal thing but could I please not use her toothbrush anymore? Would she start taking her toothbrush out of the bathroom and shutting it in her nightstand? What if I went into her room and took it out of her nightstand and she saw me using it again? Would she ask me to move out or would it turn into a kind of game where she hides her toothbrush around the apartment and I keep on trying to find it? Would she ask me pointblank when she saw me with my toothbrush in her mouth, “Are you using my toothbrush?” And what would I say? “Oh I thought it was mine?” Is that even true? Am I some kind of psychopath that lies about my brushing habits, but not in the usual, “Sure, Dentist, I brush and floss two to three times a day,” but in a “Oh that’s so weird I completely thought it was mine” even though I doubted it was mine but went ahead and brushed my teeth anyways. And how can I even doubt whether or not the toothbrush was mine unless our toothbrushes look exactly the same, but mine and hers don’t because hers is blue and mine is white so I have no excuse but still I find myself wondering whether or not I’m using the right toothbrush? What does that say about me?

So there I am, alternately staring in the mirror at myself  and at the toothbrush, and I have the distinct and unmistakable feeling I’m using the toothbrush of a stranger. I feel this even though I know for a fact the toothbrush is mine. I can see my roommate’s toothbrush in the blue glass that also holds our identical toothpastes, but we don’t care about the toothpastes because apparently those are fine and socially acceptable to interchange. But if you interchange toothbrushes, that’s just weird.

Is it because the bristles of a toothbrush explore the most intimate nooks of one’s oral cavity, massaging the crevices of one’s chompers and their gummy nest, inserting itself in all those places where the day’s gluttony lingers, shooing bits of taffy and apple peel out of their hiding places, scrubbing the tongue down including that part in the back that looks weird and kind of hairy because of the taste buds? Is it because of all of that?

Though I know for a fact the toothbrush I hold is my own, the doubt still plagues me. I miss my old toothbrush, the one I lost about a week ago. It was green and awkwardly sized in the fashion of a big crayon, but I had gotten to know it over the course of many brushings and felt I had reached a special place with it. But now it’s gone. And in its place is this cold piece of plastic that doesn’t understand me and doesn’t even seem to care. Maybe my roommate’s toothbrush would be nicer to use after all. Would she care if I did use it, just a few times, just until I got to know my new toothbrush better?

Tagged , , , , , ,
Feb 15 2012
6 Comments
Humorous, Open Letters, Three minute read

In Theory, I Hate This Class

Education only works if someone cares

Professor —–,

The following is a hypothetical situation, but I think you’ll find it helpful in understanding my performance in class and how we can work together for our mutual benefit.

Let’s say I’m taking a class, the purpose of which is to equip me with a certain skill. For this exercise, let’s call the class “Literary Analysis in Arabic.” This class, like any class, is built upon the relationships between the student, the professor, and the material. In order for the class to successfully equip me to analyze literature in Arabic, one of several scenarios must happen (combinations are also possible):

A) I enjoy the professor and want to excel in order to make her proud.

B) I am passionate about Arabic literature and as such am driven to do well for the love of the material alone.

C) I am a mindless slave to grades and would sacrifice everything in order to get an A, regardless of my relationship to the professor or the material.

However, in this theoretical class, something interesting has (theoretically) happened. Not only do I not enjoy the professor, but I am also not particularly interested in the material, which is made up primarily of reading novels in Arabic, an act that takes grotesque amounts of time. Indeed, in theory, I determined while sitting in the very first session of this theoretical class that my time was better spent elsewhere doing something I enjoy and find useful instead of honing this skill which will likely go unused in the future and wasn’t all that lucrative to begin with, personally and financially.

At this theoretical juncture, it is clear that I’m not motivated to excel by the material itself or the professor, who theoretically I find overbearing yet absent. The only thing left to compel me to do well in this hypothetical course would be the promise of a good grade, a letter on a scrap of future-trash that means nothing to the rest of the world and to me would only signify the hours I wasted earning a clearly meaningless letter. Actually, I have theoretically found grades irrelevant and am no longer motivated by them.

Indeed, the only reason I have to continue attending this theoretical class is the desire to avoid personal embarrassment complete withdrawal might cause in addition to administrative issues that are not related to the subject matter or professor. In short, my theoretical motto for this class is, “I’m here but not interested. Please do not disturb.”

For that reason, the lackluster professor should theoretically avoid doing things like assigning a surprise presentation and then adding with a flourish that it will be done, “for a grade,” because theoretically I would sense a challenge. “What if I just didn’t do it? What if I just sat here and stared? Will you fail me? FAIL ME ALREADY!”

So in theory we should avoid doing that. But there’s nothing to say this theoretical situation could be a positive experience, with each one left with less work to do and more time to do the things she loves. In theory, this could be the best of every world.

Thanks for taking the time to hypothesize with me, Professor —–. If you have any questions please let me know. See you in class tomorrow!

Photo Credit: Grant Cochrane at freedigitalphotos.net

Tagged , , , , , ,
Feb 14 2012
35 Comments
Best blog posts, Humorous, Two minute read

This Guy Sucks

Hey! You suck! 

There sure are a lot of problems these days. The way I see it, things kind of suck the whole world over. Here in Egypt, people are pissed off that life isn’t much better after the revolution. It turns out you can’t teach old scum bags new tricks and the old men who stayed in charge from Mubarak’s era are still good-for-nothing tax gobblers. In America, even though we are completely satisfied with our politicians, we are still constantly embarrassed by, among other things, the extravagant cost of higher education, pesky racial divides, our obesity, our impressive income inequality, and the fact we want to stay really rich but seem to have no money.

I could go on and discuss the pathetic state of our judicial system, the fact we’re losing our competitive edge to  developing countries whose foods we like, and the seeming illiteracy of the coming generation, but then I’d start to get sleepy from the sadness.

When confronted with all these issues, it’s hard to know who to blame. There are simply too many candidates. Do I blame Barack Obama, the Democrats, the Republicans, the Soviets, Europe, poodles, Mom, Dad…who? And I can’t blame something nebulous like “human nature” or the “capitalist system” or “greed.” That’s not nearly satisfying enough. I want a face I can yell at, an ugly mug I can jab at and say, “You suck!”

That’s why, for the past five minutes, I’ve been searching relentlessly for someone who can be the recipient of all our rage, some lame schmuck that can be the symbol of every inefficiency and injustice that exists. After minutes of intensely focused effort,  I think I found him. It’s this guy.

It’s all his fault! He did it! He decided to invade Iraq, Vietnam, and Cuba at great financial and moral cost to the US. It was him! He’s the one who has been melting the glaciers and strangling endangered species.  At night, while good Americans are at home with their families, reading their children bedtime stories, he’s out whispering into the ears of politicians and selling them his fancy new weapons and giving them ideas for how to use them.

He causes skin cancer! He stokes the fires of racial division! He made our educational system unequal! It was fine before he came along, but then BOOM everything was awful!

He’s why Americans are too fat! He’s why middle school girls dress like Ke$ha! He’s the cause of partisan conflict in the White House! He’s why Oklahoma isn’t Colorado! He’s why many Americans have their most intimate relationships with TSA officials! He made healthcare expensive! He created Valentine’s Day!

It’s his fault! I don’t care about the other issues. What will the stance of our future political leaders be on this guy? Will it be a resolute “Let’s get him!” or a pathetic “Let’s allow him to continue trampling our society and future.” Isn’t the answer obvious?

I say let’s get him and while we’re at it, let’s have a good yell.

“YOU SUCK!”

photo credit: Ambro at freedigitalphotos.net

Tagged , , , , , ,
Feb 13 2012
13 Comments
Fiction, Humorous, One minute read

An Arm Lost or a Stump Gained?

Because arm stumps are gross. 

I was brushing my teeth yesterday and noticed my left arm was still bothering me. I looked down and realized there was nothing left of it besides a bloody stump that ended at the elbow in a jagged open wound. Blood dripped onto the white tiled floor and I thought to myself, “That explains a lot.”

Tagged , , , , , ,
← Older posts
Newer posts →
Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started