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Archives: Apr 2011

A naked party

I once went to a naked party when I was in college. This is not a topic I bring up often, because it usually causes people I’m conversing with to either glance at my crotch briefly or drop to one knee and vomit. Either way, the conversation always ends with an awkward pause followed by, “Well, I have a lot of errands to run, but it was nice seeing you.”

A naked party is just like a regular party, except everyone stands around drinking beer while naked. To get some of the more obvious questions out of the way: Yes, it was creepy. No, it wasn’t fun. Yes, there were pretty women participating. No, it did not turn into an orgy. Yes, the lack of an orgy was disappointing. Yes, it was a bit chilly no matter how much we turned up the thermostat. Yes, it’s the most eye contact the ceiling in that house has ever received. No, I would not recommend you hold your own naked party.

The naked party I went to was with theater people. This should not be surprising to anyone who has hung out with a theater person for more than five seconds. After a show, a bunch of us in the cast and crew went to a bar and got drunk. When the bar closed, 10-15 of us stumbled back to a cast member’s house and drank some more. Theater people being the odd folk that they are, it was only a matter of time until one of the actors shouted, “Let’s make this a naked party!” and took off his clothes. Surprisingly, an actress followed suit, and the rest of us did the same. We stood around in the buff playing poker for roughly three hours.

Happy Earth Day, douchebags

Hey dickface, wanna know the history of Earth Day? Well, you came to the right place, peeknuckle, because newspaper people love the goddamn Earth. That’s why we murder trees, grind their corpses into pulp, and then print vapid liberal propaganda on them.

“Hey everyone, come celebrate Earth Day by enjoying this tree for five minutes, then throwing it into the garbage at Erbert & Gerbert’s without recycling it!”

I like to hug the Earth as much as possible. I hug every part of it, sexily. I hug dogs, cats, rabbits, chipmunks, and even dickish animals that maul me, like badgers and grizzly bears. I hug the shit out of all of them, because wrestling around with them helps conceal my boner for this beautiful planet of ours.

Every morning I wake up and compost my poo, french kiss a frog and then drill a hole in the ground and have sex with it. Twenty years ago, they would have put me in an asylum for ‘tards, but since I’m doing it with the express purpose of loving the Earth, modern people let it slide. I’ve noticed people don’t come over to visit me very often, though.

U.S. Individual Income Tax Return 1040

I’m all done with my taxes, reader! I hope the IRS doesn’t flag me like they did last year. I’m no accountant, but I believe everything I’ve marked here is legitimate. It’s common knowledge that everyone fibs a little bit on these things, adding a few extra itemized deductions, or kids, or maybe a celebrity wife. I’m sure the IRS takes everything with a grain of salt.

Also, as a joke, I listed my social security number as 1-800-BOOBS. The IRS probably has a good sense of humor, though. Everybody likes jokes.

Name: Paul Ryan
Spouse’s Name: Katrina Bowden
Social Security #: 180-02-6627
Address: 2001 Ford Escort with smashed rear bumper, usually parked on Lexington Ave & Heliotrope Dr, Los Angeles, CA 90029
Filing Status: Generally pleased
Head of Household? I can assure you that I wear the pants in this car that I use as my home

Dennis Anderson’s hairpiece to retire soon

After 50 years of journalism work, 41 of them with WDIO, Dennis Anderson’s hairpiece is retiring next month. It will be the first time a portion of a person retired since Sven Sundgaard’s tooth whitening kit left KBJR for Minneapolis in 2006.

“Yes, I’m retiring,” said Anderson. “With 15 grandkids and all of my children and grandkids living in Duluth . . .”

“Shhh, shut up,” said our producer, silencing Anderson. “We’re trying to interview your hairpiece.”

Anderson’s hairpiece has been unusually quiet about the departure. Even after our reporter hit the hairpiece with a bat and poured a can of soda on it, it still declined to speak. Anderson kept trying to respond on behalf of his hairpiece, saying things like, “What is wrong with you?” and “Why do you keep beating me and pouring soda on my hair? Be kind.”