Ind e-Pen XVII

The Ind e-Pen
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Introduction:
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I wonder what New York City’s like… Do you wonder too? Well, I’ll tell you what: I’ll leave tonight at midnight, hang out with around the crunch, big red fruit, come back on Sunday, and report my findings… next week. Don’t you just love how I make it sound like I haven’t been planning this for a month? Yeah, I’m smooth…

Mwa-ha-ha-ha! Evilness pays.

Every month, the cafeteria here at the Indiana University of Pennsylvania publishes new menus for the entire month. The idea is to know where all the food is, just in case we want to get fatter (Aramark: “Helping college students with their Freshman Fifteen for over Fifty years!”).
This last month, they got lazy. Instead of making a calendar for April and a separate one for the four and a half days we go to school in May, they decided to combine the two. Since I was born in May, when the calendars first came out, I figured it was my duty to split them up into two separate entities. So I set out to do it– then I promptly forgot about it.
Later, I realized that if I replaced them all with miniature Pix Capacitors, I could get some serious advertising at the school’s expense. Ha! To prepare for my plan, I stole one of their calendars, just to make sure I had the dimensions straight (I didn’t, they were 7.16″ tall and 4.89″ wide. Which is, coincidentally, the worst pick-up line I’ve ever used).
Somehow, my original idea became twisted and warped. Instead of promoting my own agenda, it became mocking Aramark’s agenda. Instead of printing my own miniature Pix Capacitors, I just Davenported the calendars. That is to say that I scanned one into my computer and rearranged it pixel by pixel (ha!) until it said what I wanted it to say.
By the time I finished, two days and fourteen working hours later, I had a calendar that was more vulgar than a sailor with phallic gangrene.
Here, let me give you some examples of what I did:

“Customer Appreciation Day” became “Partial Nudity Day”
“Buy a Chick-fil-A 12-pack and get a drink for free” became “Buy a Coors 12-Pack and get a drunk Chick free.”
“Bene Pizza” became “Pene Pizza”
“Proudly serving 10 subs under 10 grams of fat” became “Proudly serving 10 year old nude little boys”
“Buy a Java City Mug and receive great savings on Java City Products” became “Buy a Java City Mug and receive great head.”
“Good luck with Finals” became… well, I’ll let you figure that one out on your own.

I printed out the calendars, made about 10 copies (hey, I can’t spend more than $5 on copies! How would I buy my pogs?), and subtly replaced the originals with my new, improved versions– When I say subtle, I mean that I walked up to tables, took their calendar, replaced it with my own, and did an evil laugh all the way to the next table. It was a fun experience.
–
That is until I found out that there were people that found the prank so funny that they stole the calendars– which negates the prank, if you think about it. Oy, people are stupid–

Here’s a thought:
The fun of a subject is directly proportionate to how short its name is. For instance, Art? Awesome good time. Analytical Geometry? You could have more fun eating the tainted sand of a two-month old’s sandbox. It works for other things, too! A girl named Amy is likely to be blonde and all-smiles. Gertrude? She’s probably cutting Amy’s brakes right now. Of course, you can never trust something that’s short because it’s been shortened. PMS is never okay. Especially for the people who have to deal with it: the men (see, we put up with the women when they get it). That was a short thought– sorry.

One last thing:

Last week I asked what NASCAR stood for. For some reason, I received twice as many answers as usual. Apparently, the National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing has a lot of fans and/or haters. Among these, were everything from right answers to wrong answers, early answers to late answers, and even a nice poem which I’ll share with you. The winners? I’ll say Alicia Cardoza and Jcak Nagel. Jcak for being the first, Alicia for her unique answer– also, because they live the furthest away. A free Pix Capacitor for you two. Good jorb!

Last Week’s Question: What does NASCAR stand for?

Most Excellent Answer:
Nice of you to ask us about our very fast cars. We
Are so proud of them that we take
Showers with them to wash the
Carburetor as clean as a whistle.
Also, we are tired of everyone saying that we are overpayed, walking billboards for our
Respective soft drink or potato chip companies. We are awesome! Vroooomm….

This Week’s Question: What’s the most outrageous/spontaneous thing that you’ve ever done?

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Retraction to IeP 16

It turns out that the person that originally posed last week’s question demands that I consider him the true winner. Well, we here at the Ind e-Pen don’t submit to terrorism. So blah!

Also, there is an ‘out’ where there should have been an ‘ought.’ I apologize. The spell check didn’t catch that discrepancy. Who would have thought that ‘out’ was a real word? Not me, surely.

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Ind e-Pen XVI

The Ind e-Pen

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Introduction:

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Oh, I love having lazy weekends. Sure, I’ve been writing/putting off this e-mail for twelve hours now, but that’s the beauty of having broad deadlines. As long as it’s still technically Saturday (in the United States, to any Filipinos who might receive this e-mail), I’m still on time. Ha! Screw you, audience! Ha! … wait, maybe that’s my problem… hmm… and now, a corny joke:

“How do you make holy water?

You boil the hell out of it.”

Crunch-time

Have you ever had one of Burger King’s Veggie Whoppers? If you haven’t, then you should try it. If you have, then you understand why I can’t get that horrible taste out of my mouth. Yuck. Why am I eating a Veggie Whopper, you ask? Let me send you to a website right quick and I’ll tell you. Go here, here, then here.

Now that that’s over, the point is that since Easter, I am a vegetable-tarian. Yup. No meat whatsoever. Not just that, but also no jello, no gummy bears, no biting people, nothing. It’s been the hardest week of my life (although, I really haven’t had meat since Good Friday, so I don’t know why I’m complaining now. Maybe us vegetable-tarians don’t get enough of the un-whiny vitamin? Or maybe now I just have an excuse). Add that to the fact that every single one of my teachers got together and decided to collectively screw me over this week (it sounds fun, but it’s really not). And, perhaps being stood up for a date didn’t help me much… although I think I was more stressed out when I thought we WERE going to go out than when I thought that we weren’t. PLUS there was a Pix Capacitor out… whoever sets the deadlines for those must be a thoughtless bastard.

Anyway, there are some good things about being a vegetable-tarian. For one, I can finally look down on people. Not only that, but I can chastise them for being inhumane. Some of the most fun times have been had by people who thought that they were right. I mean, that’s the reason I teach myself trivia at night, then mock people in the morning… That’s also, coincidentally, what the Catholics did to the Mayans. Although, I think we can All agree that the Catholics were wrong. Ha ha! Take that religion!*

So I will no longer eat meat. Nobody thinks I’m going to last, but I’ve already gone a week, that’s good enough for anyone, right? Yeah, right. I’ll keep you informed on my progress. Whether you want me to or not.

*here I would like to issue a statement. To any Catholics out there, I, the author of this piece of literatical flotsam, do not warrant or indorse any statements that I, the author, may or may not have said. If it makes you feel any better, just replace the word “Catholic” with “Jehovah’s Witness” and we’ll all be happier. I mean, who really likes Jehovah’s Witnesses anyway?** And besides, that’s who I meant, Jehovah’s Witnesses. Yup. They whomp.

** Here I would like to issue a statement. To any Jehovah’s Witnesses out there, this e-mail is a celebration of a holiday, chock-loaded with symbols. You made yourself impure by reading this, now go knock on somebody’s door and convert them to make yourself holy again.

Game-time

As far as addictions go, I’m pretty lame. I’m not into heroin, but Snood is nothing to blow your nose to. No cigarettes for me, but I just can’t smoke my Rubik’s cube habit. Addicted to sweets? More like I can still taste OKCupid. AA? I’m not driving to that one, but SSBA maybe.

That last acronym was for Super Smash Brothers, you might have heard of it. It’s a Street Fighter-type game with a twist: it’s not at all like Street Fighter. Sure, you can punch, kick, jump, and pick on people smaller than you, but you get to be cool characters like Mario (who stereotypically whomps in the game), Link (who sucks to be up against), Pikachu (who is the most annoying character since Kirby), and Kirby (he sucks. Ha!).

You can also be characters from Star Fox, F-Zero, Metroid, and a bunch of other games that were probably inside jokes between the Japanese programmers. Anyway, I’ve been neglecting my homework every day this week, literally, just to beat the bejeezus out of Star Fox. I’ve gotten to the point where I can beat him every single time (that out to get him mad. Ha!).

I’d elaborate more on that, but no– that was the entire time. And I only have five minutes to send this e-mail– and, um, HEY LOOK!! A DISTRACTION!!

One last thing:

The winner of last week’s question is none other than… ME!! Sure, a young lady in New Mexico answered, probably correctly, and two guys named Butt and Wobett both said the same answer: “they both sucked,” but since there are times I have everyone win a Pix Capacitor, why not have times when nobody gets one? Ahh… I love my logic. Take that College Algebra!

Last Week’s Question: Do you think that there is a correlation between Calvin and Hobbes and Fight Club? Why?

Answer 1: It’s because Hobbes is as imaginary as Edward Norton’s alter ego, who is played by the wonderful Brad Pitt. Although, if there is a correlation, does that mean that Calvin really wants to be a tiger?

This Week’s Question: What does NASCAR stand for?

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Ind e-Pen XV

The Ind e-Pen

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Introduction:

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Welcome back to the Ind. (short for Independent, or Indiana, or Indifferent… I don’t really care either way, actually) e- (short for electronic. Common in association with electronic mail and websites like eharmony, ebay, and electronicsboutique) Pen (like the kind you write with? Yeah). The coolest viewsletter that you didn’t request and can’t figure out how to get unsubscribed from. In this issue, we discuss Week One of April… duh. I mean, it’s not like we can discuss Week Two. Oh, well, you’ll catch on eventually.

Jackson 5

Have you ever felt like you were stuck in the middle of a vastly underbudgeted, not well thought out, pointless mystery? I have. I was the key suspect.

My good friend Butt (not the real name of Matthew James Gorzalski of Turnbull Hall 121 1020 Grant Street Indiana, PA 15705) has a livejournal for some reason that no one can fully explain.

At some point early on in the week, a post appeared on it that bad-mouthed my neighbor and a guy that no one except Butt seems to know (we think he might be imaginary, but shh! Don’t tell Butt). The post was signed “Jackson 5.” Ordinarily, nobody would pay attention to this post, but it was a really slow week and everyone was bored.

The next day, Butt asked me if I was Jackson 5. I replied, no, but my four brothers and I were signed by Motown in the early 1970s. Throughout the rest of the day, more and more people in my hall began asking me if I was Jackson 5. I had no idea what was going on, so I visited Butt’s live journal at http://www.livejournal.com/users/gorzo88/ and checked…

Nothing but a poster making fun of a few people under a poorly thought out pseudonym… something anybody who lived a life of being rolled up, tacked on a wall, and torn down would do no doubt.

But then the frustration of not knowing who Jackson 5 (I later shortened it to J-5) got to everyone in the hall. They made me swear on a bible (and later on a poster of Brooke Burke) that I wasn’t J-5. Everyone assumed that it was either me (which was half insulting, half flattering) or the Trumpet Rob across the hall.

I didn’t have time to worry about this, though. I had a huge paper to start writing that was due the next day. That night I stayed up till 4 writing it, only stopping to go to the bathroom once when my roommate told me that it had been trashed. I went to go check it out and I saw something that chilled my bones: a note card taped to the mirror that said, “J-5 was herr.”

The next day, everyone was rabid. People accused me left and right of messing with them and lying to them. Everyone began calling me Jackson 5… then everyone began calling everyone else Jackson 5 (okay, not everyone, but at least two people).

The fervor didn’t quiet down until later that night at midnight when I noticed that Trumpet Rob (who had left for the weekend) logged on to AOL Instant Messenger for five minutes then logged back out. Listening to my intuition (what? Men have it too! We also have out-of-state-tuition), I checked the live journal and noticed that there was a post where my roommate admitted that he was Jackson 5. I asked him about it and he looked at me dumbfounded (actually, probably not, but he didn’t have an idea of what happened).

We checked the time of the post and realized that it directly corresponded to the time when Trumpet Rob had logged on. Thinking quickly (while still looking dumbfounded), my roommate posted a bluff saying that everyone else in the hall had been in the same room at the time of the post and that we all knew it was him.

The next day Trumpet Rob admitted that it was him. But nobody has yet apologized for accusing me… in fact, they still think I was in on it. Oh, well.

Good Friday? More like Bad Robinson Crusoe! Yeah. Ten points no steal.

It turns out that this Sunday is Easter. In honor of this, or possibly “coincidentally,” our school declared Monday a holiday. Thus, almost everyone I know has gone home for the weekend to visit their family. In fact, the only people left in the hall are myself, my roommate, Butt, his roommate, and a girl down the hall whose mom is staying here for the weekend.

There’s a good part and a bad part to being essentially alone for the weekend. The good part is that I can yell out into the hall (“Bah!”) and nobody will say anything. The bad part is that if I yell out into the hall (“Bah!”), then nobody will say anything.

The most fun thing to do right now is my homework. How sad is that? Sigh. Oh, well.

One last thing:

Seeing as all of the people that responded to last week’s question would have gotten a Pix Capacitor anyway, I don’t see anything wrong with just declaring them all winners and combining their answers into a long, hilarious, yet also inhumane, answer. Let’s Watch:

Last Week’s Question: What is the worst prank that you’ve ever done or had done to you?

Composite Answer: “When I was coming back from a high school soccer game I decided to fall asleep on the bus since it was about 1 am. BAD IDEA. I woke up to one of my teammates tea bagging me. –for those who don’t know, it is when scrotum is placed on a victim’s face.

“That was when my friend said ‘guess who likes you’, and I got excited and asked ‘who?’, to which he responded with a loud ‘no one!’ But that’s okay… I get that every day.

“The bus finally arrived, and I had to drive my Muscle-headed friend home. The problem was that he talked day and night for months about a stupid girl that left him. On the way home, he was like, ‘You should’ve seen me today, Man! She was like “HI” and I was like “What do you want!”‘ Irritated, I veered ‘mad sick like’ to miss oncoming traffic. Then I pulled my truck to a stop by the side of the road and, in a very concerned voice, I said, ‘Holy fucking shit, I think that the tire blew out! Get out and see, would you???’ Then, when he got out, I hit the gas and left him on the side of the road to die.

“So I get home, right? And I remember that there’s these girls that I’m mad at and don’t want to ever speak to again. I ask my brother if I can use his screenname and I get online and tell them that ‘I’ had killed myself. After a while of talking to them, I convince them and they start feeling really sad. So I log out with my brother’s screen name and log back in with my own. Now they won’t talk to me anymore”

This Week’s Question: Do you think that there is a correlation between Calvin and Hobbes and Fight Club? Why?

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Ind e-Pen XIV

The Ind e-Pen

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Introduction:

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Finally, some time alone. My roommate’s friends came here from Millersville yesterday and, well… in the immortal words of the newly met J.P., “I wanna get some pussy, dammit!” Yeah. Five guys in one room. That doesn’t cause any problems… Whatever. Now, I’ve gotta finish this before they get back. Hey, I have to blast them to someone, right?

April’s Fools

Apparently I live in a hall that’s dominated by prank-loving jerks. I had heard about their prank war last semester and dismissed it as pure hogwash (actually, no. I took caution. But doesn’t “hogwash” sound so cool and educated? It’s funny, considering the subject…).

But hearing about shaving cream in the shower and stolen clothes is different from actually experiencing it. Our April Fool’s pranks actually started on March 29th. My neighbor (the bowler), the self-professed king of pranks, stole his roommate’s guitar and ransomed it. Actually, I don’t know if he did that for April Fool’s or just because his roommate (the streaker) was pissing everyone off with it. His roommate, not knowing who did it, got back at his neighbor (the trumpet player) across the hall by taking his keyboard. Naturally, everyone in the hall started mocking him over AIM, saying “you can’t write back, ha ha ha!” and so forth. So HE warned them all. Then, MY roommate (the anti-bush guy), the guy with the friends from Millersville, went into this guy’s room and tied all of his clothes together and hung them around the room. Apparently, after this happened, ANOTHER kid from down the hall (the Roach) came by and put hand lotion on the crotch of all of (the trumpet player)’s pants and shorts… That ended up March. The next day was April First. And now we were ready for the major pranks.

April first everyone woke up cautious. My neighbor (the streaker) went so far as to leave the state. It was probably for something unrelated to April Fool’s, but still… When my roommate and I came back from classes, there was oil in our doorknob. So we cleaned that up (it’s better than the blood-soaked tampon that got the guys across from us), and we went inside. My roommate had to leave right then, but he made sure to tell to not let anyone inside. I agreed.

So when my neighbors (the trumpet player and the bowler) came by and asked me to let them in so that they could toilet paper my roommate’s side of the room, I told them to go shove it. Unfortunately, the trumpet player pulled me out, and before I could get free, the bowler locked himself in my room. I was outside, with one shoe, no keys, and the self-professed king of pranks was alone in my room. This couldn’t be a good combination, could it?

It took me about two minutes to realize one crucial detail of his half-assed plan: the bowler had left his door wide open… Now what kind of an IDIOT would leave his DOOR WIDE OPEN while he was playing a prank on his neighbor who he just happened to be LOCKING OUT OF HIS OWN ROOM?? Well, I’m just glad I found him.

I found a roll of toilet paper in his room, and started T.P.ing it. Then, when I finished, I realized that he was still in my room, so I unplugged everything in his room (including the surge protector and his computer). After I finished THAT, I realized that he was Still in my room, so I grabbed all of his clothes and dumped them on his floor, throwing some newspapers on top of that. And he was STILL in my room. I unscrewed the lights, to make them not turn on when anyone flicked the switch. That was about the time that a heard a Crack and an “Oh, shiii!” Which spooked me out quite a bit. So I stole one of his shoes, his deodorant, his telephone, his remote controls, all of his CDs, and his university identification card. AND HE WAS STILL IN MY ROOM! Yikes. Well, no sense racking my head trying to come up with more things to do to his room. I decided to run to the office and get the spare key to my room. After some arguing with the lady that I, in fact, was who I said I was (I wouldn’t have believed me, I couldn’t even remember my own ID number or last name).

I ran back to my room and kicked the bowler, and also the trumpet player, out of my room, locking myself in instead. Yeah, my room was bad. It was coated white with T.P. and there was some of my powdered protein on the ground. It took me ten minutes to clean it up, but when I finished, my neighbor still was looking for all of his stuff. So, quite naturally, I packed up my stuff, and went to go work out. That night I pissed off the trumpet player while playing Game Cube. Specifically, by not dying for an hour (just long enough to make everyone give up and go do something else). There were no more pranks that night, and the bowler didn’t get his ID back until midnight. April Fool’s is so great when you win, isn’t it?

Worst Joke Ever:

So I sat thinking about the problem with Freedom Fries. And there is a problem, regardless of what people say. Besides it being a stupid idea, it’s odd and difficult to impliment. No, what they SHOULD do is create a totally new type of fry. One that would be better than French Fries (because why would you trade in an easily pronounceable, well-established word for something that isn’t?). But what would this new fry be like, I wondered. When it occured to me: we would just make them look like miniature twin towers. Then again, they already have that, don’t they? You know, Mashed Potatoes?

One last thing:

And another week where I give everyone a free Pix Capacitor. Congratulations to Maggie Casmus, Jcak Nagel, Matt Gorzalski, my roommate, Mikey DePalma, and Monica Sifuentes, whose answer was my favorite:

Last Week’s Question: How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?

Mo’ Sifuentes: it takes 457 licks, i did 3 separate tests

This Week’s Question: What’s the worst prank that you’ve ever done or had done to you? (worst prank wins)

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