PIC

Article there. Ch-ch-ch check it out (it’s revised from an earlier one, but you like it anyway. Naughtyface).

http://www.pointsincase.com/articles/bunch_of_bs_tips.htm

For the Ladies

Equal power between the sexes is a sham. Oh sure, men might get better jobs and get paid more, but that means quite little when you realize that they only go to those jobs and make that money to impress women. Unless they’re gay, in which case they have to get good jobs to combat the ever-rising costs of appletinis and Astroglide. By now, obviously, that observation is a bit trite, and I don’t make it to send you into little convulsions of laughter, but rather as a segue to helping the ladies harness that power.

I was under the impression that it was easy for girls to get guys, at least in a physical capacity.  I assumed the process went something along the lines of letting it be known that you in fact, were possessed of a vagina, and that the guys then flocked like oh so many seagulls(because it’s a well-known fact that seagulls LOVE vagina). I knew that it was a little bit harder to actually get a relationship, especially at college age, but I assumed that was what fake pregnancies were for. Apparently, however, some girls don’t know how to get guys into bed short of shameless desperation. Lucky for them, I’m here to help. Here are a couple of tried and true tricks that will let you get all you want without crying shamefully in the mirror the next morning (because seriously, I can hear you, and it’s freaking me out a little bit):

The ‘Ol Movie Trick: 75% of the battle is getting into position for a tactical strike. The other 25% is using awkward metaphors and random statistics. Every guy worth his salt (and who isn’t worth their weight in salt these days?) knows that the offer to watch a movie is helpful trick. First and foremost, it can help get the two of you alone, which can be otherwise a little sticky. Secondly, it can help get the lighting down to a point where it’s easy to ignore each other’s imperfections. Finally, especially if the movie was well-chosen, it means that there’s no burden of conversation until you actually have something witty to say.

Now, to my girlies, you can use this trick too, and not be slutty! If you invite a guy back for a movie, he’s going to see through you. But if you mention a couple of movies you like throughout the course of the night (bonus points if you already know he has them), eventually he’ll get the idea. Then, you can seal the deal with an oh-so subtle, “I don’t even really feel like being out tonight, but my friends dragged me.” If he takes the hint and invites you back for a movie, you’re golden. If not, well then you haven’t  lost anything because you haven’t really put yourself on the line. Oh, and you’re probably unattractive. Uh, work on that.

The “Me, Sexy”?: This trick is particularly for those girls who complain that guys only think of them as friends no matter what they do: “I’ve tried playing Warcraft, I joined the football team, I even tried wearing nothing but flannel shirts and jeans, but no matter what I do, he still thinks of me as only a friend!! Help!!”. Being friends with guys is a great thing, but every once in a while you have to remind them that you’re still a girl, at least if you want them to want to sleep with you. There are a couple very easy ways of doing this. One is to invest in a modest-yet revealing bathrobe, and wear it so it accents your best features. Got massive cottage-cheese thighs? Wear a long one that shows a little cleavage instead. Got the chest of a fourteen year old corpse? Try a short robe that shows off those lovely legs. Generally fat and unattractive? Try a burquua.

Now, it might make you uncomfortable to wear this robe everywhere. And more importantly, it would make me uncomfortable. All you have to do is wear it at the opportune time. Say, for example, a bunch of your guy friends are picking you up from your room for a rousing game of Dance Dance Revolution. Try opening the door wearing the robe, because you “didn’t realize they were going to be here so soon”. At that point you can immediately change into your coveralls and still have a decent chance of being masturbatory fodder for at least one of them. It only take a brief moment to change your image into something sexy, at which point you can let their imagination do the rest.

The “Long Day” Massage: This one is admittedly a little over the top, but effective nonetheless. As you might have expected, at some point you complain of tenseness in your back and wait for the inevitable massage offer.  The key to this trick is how you accept or decline the offer. If the offer comes from somebody from whom you do not want a massage, all you have to do is complain of ticklishness. If it comes from that strapping young gentleman with whom you do want to engage in heavy petting, look surprised, as if the thought hadn’t crossed your mind, and acquiesce somewhat reluctantly, as not to appear immodest: “Oh, really? A massage? Well, I guess I could really use one. Why not?”

During the massage, make pseudo-sexual noises and/or faces, while looking embarrassed. Nobody’s asking to be Jenna Jameson, but even catching your breath once or twice will associate the massage with sex in the guy’s mind, and your job is essentially done.

The Body Control: This one is probably the simplest but requires the most commitment. Essentially, it requires participating in an activity that has a secondary association with sex. Try taking Pilates, or a dancing or yoga class.  For best results, I suggest a “how to be good at sex” class. The only professor that teaches it is on sabbatical, but I’d be more than happy to meet you and go over the notes from last semester. If, you, know, you wanted to.

Now, all of the above are for that young woman who wishes to engage in some sort of physical relations with the gentleman. But what of those who wish for nothing more than a walk in the park filled with hand-holding and shy smiles? And dating, and romance? Stop being such a prude. If you don’t have sex with any guy who asks, none of them are going to like you, and you’re going to be ostracized.  What if your mom were as prudish as you? You wouldn’t even be here.

On a more serious note, if you want to date a guy, just date him. It’s a little ridiculous to wait for him to woo you with flowers and romance, especially in college, but there are plenty of interesting things happening all the time. It needn’t be dinner and a movie, it could be  nothing more than bored people going for a milkshake. Or to a play that one of your friends is in. Or to an improv show. Go out with a guy a couple of times, and if you should actually be dating seriously, it will eventually will come up. If there isn’t a spark, you shouldn’t be romantically involved, but at least you now have a friend who you can stand to be around in a one-on-one context.

This article was really funny, but was hopefully at least a little bit helpful to someone. Tune in next time for more pointless things!

Present-iche (Past-iche Part Deux)

This one is still a little stubby, because I’m having trouble thinking of present writers that are well-known enough to be recognizable by both of my readers. Still, enjoy,

The Onion

Area Muffin Slightly Overcooked

Area blueberry muffin came back having been slightly overcooked, sources reported last Tuesday. Onlookers said the renegade muffin defied both its cookers and logic when it became slightly blackened before the “muffin” setting on the toaster had finished it’s cooking. Said witness Evan Roberts, “There must have been some foul play involved – a muffin just doesn’t overcook out of the blue.” After a pause, he continued, “berry.” Investigators have yet to determine the cause of the overcooking and are anxiously pursuing leads.

The Atkins Muffin

Ingredients: 1 cup cubed steak, 1 muffin, ½ cup mixed vegetables, 1 cup olive oil

1. Cook steak
2. Eat steak.
3. Throw out everything else.

Facebook

The facebook muffin changed their status to blueberry

The facebook muffin added “being eaten out” to their favorite activities

Kelly Marshall is attending Tanning Party!

The facebook muffin is overcooked

The facebook muffin is now listed as single

The facebook muffin is “weeping with quiet despair at the idea that they are no longer desirable.”

New York Times

Liberal hippy nonsense burnt muffin, liberal hippy nonsense burnt muffin, liberal hippy nonsense burnt muffin, liberal hippy nonsense burnt muffin, liberal hippy nonsense burnt muffin, liberal hippy nonsense burnt muffin, liberal hippy nonsense burnt muffin, liberal hippy nonsense burnt muffin, liberal hippy nonsense burnt muffin, liberal hippy nonsense burnt muffin. –AP

Nate Gaudy-who?

Now, I’m sure most of you don’t know who Nick Gaudio is, and that the rest of you are Nick Gaudio. But rest assured that this ignorance is temporary, for one day this winsome lad will scorch an indelible mark on the literary landscape. For you see, he is an HONORS student at THE West Virginia University. He writes like a poor man’s Hemingway, without the vocabulary, and his wit knows no bounds. (Truly, he is the master of the burn: The randomly violent outbursts; The nonsense verbiage; the gay joke - He’s got it all). But I know some of you don’t have the patience to find his writing on your own; that is why, I am proud to present to you, a vintage Nine-second Nick article.

I make Poetry Badass by Nick Gaudio

Most of you know about my badass prose, and my massive penis. And while it’s true that my prose does often feature sexual situations, and my penis is incredibly massive, I feel like I get sold a little short. Because I also write, like, really badass poetry. Here’s an example of a totally awesome poem I just wrote:

She left her coke can on the night stand

a little red smear of lipstick

fondling the rim

amongst the semen

and anal leakage

Do you see what I did there? I took a totally normal poem and added some vulgar details. And that, my friends, is how to make poetry badass. Because a poem isn’t good unless it somehow refers to manjuice or hookers, preferably both. Sometimes, my poetry is so badass I read it - but not for feedback or artistic expression - i’m so cool I read poetry for beer money. And let me tell you, nothing get’s a chick lubed up faster than a Gaudio original, except maybe the thought of playing hide the pickle with the massive Gaudio dong. Whenever I finish a poem, I look for the hottest chick in the room, and sure enough, she’s melted into a puddle.

A vagina puddle. On my penis.

Here’s a cartoon I made of me doing poetry. It doesn’t have much relevance, but it is fucking hilarious.

In this cartoon I’m smoking a cigarette, because I think having lungs that resemble used tires is motherfucking pimp. But don’t ask me for one of my cigarettes, even if I have a bunch of extras. Get your own!!!!!!!1 Each cigarette is worth like 45 cents, and I’ll be damned if i let a fucking stranger or family member get their grubby paws on any of the profits from my badass poetry.

On an unrelated note, if any rich strangers want to send me money and support the arts, hit me up, and we’ll work something out. I might even reply with a thousand-word entry on my pants-pepperoni.

Every so often, some stupid cunt will say that my poetry lacks variety, or personal depth. I punch her in her stupid cunt ovaries and laugh at another argument won, the Gaudio way. Then, I reach into my pants and scratch my balls and rub it in her mouth until she gags on the Nickbutter, at which point I finish her off with a crotch kick. PWNED!

Gaudio, away!

How to B.S.

A lot of adjectives are used to describe Paris Hilton: shallow, vapid, stupid, herpes ridden – the list is almost invariably negative. But in an interesting way – a profound way – she captures perfectly the spirit of an entire generation, in both the desire for fame and the creativity to see it realized, in the constant pursuit of the public eye combined with actions devoid of shame, in the way her name strangely resonates in homes both of means and without. She is who some of us are, who some of us admire. Who some of us hate. She is deep in her own way.

That was all B.S. Of course Paris Hilton is shallow and vapid (and I’m not her doctor, so I can’t tell you for sure if she has herpes, but I hear she has been developing suspiciously quickly as a rock-climber). Everybody has to be B.S. in their time; whether it’s that high school English paper on Beowulf that you mainly cobbled together from Sparknotes and a little bit of a movie you saw, a college humor writer turning in a three year old poem as a comedy article, or even Stephen King rearranging the names and places in an old book and republishing it under a different title, we all have to fudge a little bit. Hopefully, by the time you’re done reading this, you’ll have an idea of how to B.S. as well as yours truly.

The more skeptical amongst you might doubt my expertise in the area. The cynical minds amongst you might even suspect B.S. in our midst at this very moment. Rest assured that I am more than qualified to write about this subject: freshman year I did not one, but two long (and well-received) papers about flirtation, for which my research consisted mainly of trying out awful pickup lines (My favorite: You’re ugly, but you intrigue me). I’ve managed to convince a girl that I was a Zen Buddhist. And once I took a philosophy class. If anything, I’m overqualified. So without further interruption, we can get to the ado – take notes kids.

How to B.S. (A Few Easy to Follow Guidelines for Everybody)

1.) The Semicolon: This one is dedicated to my friend Wormface, who actually had part of his colon removed sometime in high school, prompting this nickname. The semicolon is the necktie of the sentence world; if used moderately correctly, it can give a boring sentence a little touch of class. If used; incorrectly; you look kind of stupid; and a little homeless.

2.) The Term “thoroughly modern”: This phrase is particularly great, because with it, it’s not you doing the B.S.ing, it’s society. It’s especially nice when you use when you have to connect a description between two things either completely unrelated or even directly contradictory. Examples: Christopher Reeve is a thoroughly modern kind of athlete; The Cincinnati Bengals are a thoroughly modern group of ice skaters; Nick Gaudio is a thoroughly modern kind of writer.

3.) Poetry: I like poetry. And there is a lot of good poetry out there. But it also happens to be one of the easiest mediums in which to B.S. The whole art of B.S.ing in poetry has nothing at all to do with what you write down, but rather how your frame it and discuss it. If most readers feel like you know what you’re doing, they’ll do the hard work of supplying the depth themselves. So you can write a few random words, add in a couple of line breaks, and be heralded as a minimalist poet.

the frog man

and his delicious devil juice

they are so sweet

and forgotten

That took me all of four seconds to write. But you can bet your sweet keister that it would take me “far too long” to explain it “properly”.

4.) “Muddying the waters”: This one can be a little tricky to pull off. They key here is to take something that you don’t know but has a definite correct response, and transform it into an argument where there isn’t possibly a correct response. Example: The issue isn’t the exact date of Roe v. Wade – the issue is whether we can, as a society, encourage dissent on basic moral issues, of which abortion is one.

5.) Attacking the Argument: All this basically means is that rather than going after the case of the person your arguing with, you attack the way they present it. A basic knowledge of common logical fallacies (found in your local philosophy department), can help immeasurably here. I can’t imagine a better example than this: For a very long time, people who were smoking a lot of cigarettes were getting a lot of lung cancer. Some very sharp and observant people wrote some letters, to the effect of “Dear cigarette companies – we would like it if you would somehow acknowledge the cancer-causing business.” Now, rather than trying to disprove that cigarettes caused cancer, the lovely company decided to pull an ‘ol numero cinco, arguing that the people who were all cancered up were committing the logical fallacy of “post hoc ergo propter hoc” (after this therefore because of this), and that the argument that the cigarettes were causing the cancer was unfounded. B.S. at it’s finest.

There are many, many, many more tools you can to B.S. Some of them even have foreign names. But for now, I’m going to be greedy and keep them to myself.

Toodles!

Past-iche

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to hang out with influential writers? Well, fear not, for I have your best interest in mind, and can intuit their day to day conversations. For example, recounting a story of an improperly cooked muffin(I may or may not add to this list):

Ernest Hemingway:

It was early. The day was bright. I hadn’t had my morning coffee yet and I wanted a goddamn muffin. On the way to the store I shot an dog, in the left hind paw. I shot him, and then went to get my muffin. I ordered the muffin, and while I waited, I rifled through a magazine. Britney’s vagina again. Fuck. My muffin came back a little burned, so I shot the storeowner. The muffin tasted alright.

F. Scott Fitzgerald:

I have never been the type of person who would arbitrarily order a muffin. However, there was something special about this day, some collection of mist in the midsummer air, that led to my special sensitivity to the siren’s song of the cooked pastry, so that I knew what it was I had to do.

When I got to the store, the late fall foliage was collecting on the ground like the varied shades on an artists palette. I ordered my muffin concisely-to the point. Being both an honest person and not one to waste words, I told the gentlemanly shopkeep that I wanted my muffin toasted light as a single butterfly descending on a branch, a branch made of money. What I got was not this. My muffin was perceptively cooked beyond its means, so I tossed it into a trash can, where it would languish in a pile of old newspapers and self-regret, before I stepped out into the cold winter air.

Homer:

And I, wearing shirt stained of both jam and mustard,

And being desirous of nutritious pastry, boldly exclaimed

“Summon forth to me a muffin - one perhaps of blueberries

Or cranberries, or the chocolate chips that are the woman’s savor

Cooked lightly, that I might enjoy it, and be refreshed.”

And what I received was not lightly cooked, but rather heavily.

As the charred remains of Britney Spears career

which are splayed across magazine and television alike

reminding us, as Icarus did, that hubris is folly

and that one must always avail themself of both toga and undergarment

continue to smolder ruinously, so was my muffin improperly cooked

black as the heart of stern Poseiden.

Faulkner:

My mother is a muffin.

Shakespeare:

Shagstaff: Fetch me a muffin, shopkeep.

Shopkeeper: Young men shouldn’t have their muffin fetched for them, in deceit of their vigor.

Shagstaff: What sayest thou knave? I need a muffin, toasted lightly

Shopkeeper(preparing muffin): Ah, the conceit of youth! To think that any muffin require little more than a light toasting. You must want your muffin prepared well.

Shagstaff: On my mother’s head, I will cause you harm if my will is not so.

Shopkeeper(handing muffin): I hope she is still married, for her maidenhead was lost long ago, in a forgotten alley. And if you are so prodigal with the skulls of your parents, you shall have your will soon enough.

Shagstaff: This muffin is burnt.

Shopkeeper: Talkest thou of Britney Spears?

Ralph Ellision:

I left my house today, a house whose only witness is the 1,369 Christmas lights I forgot to take down. I was in search of a muffin. Making my way to the store, I tripped over a copy of The Souls of Black Folks, while Mims’ new song “This Is Why I’m Hot” blared from a car window. My car was also being ticketed by a white traffic cop, so I threw a copy of Richard Wright’s Black Boy at him. Not metaphorically. Literally.

Upon arriving at the store, I ordered my muffin as dark as possible without being burnt. When I finally received it, it was too light, but I didn’t complain. Each bite choked me a little. Because of the lightness.

You Know The Drill

I haven’t copied the Onion in a while, so here goes:

Secretary of Interior Spends Most of Day Playing Minesweeper

Washington D.C.: Secretary of Interior Dirk Kempthorne admitted Friday that he spends the vast majority of his workday playing minesweeper, checking his email, and browsing popular community website craigslist.com. “I really only have a couple of hours of work a week,” Kempthorne explained, “and even that’s mostly busywork like making sure that there are still 50 states, choosing color schemes for White House picnics, and answering Dick Cheney’s fanmail.” Sources close to the President admitted that he didn’t really have any use for the Cabinet position, but figured that it must be somehow useful if the job existed.

A Post on the Rocks (with a twist)

Today I was reading pointsincase.com, and I got a wonderful surprise. I had inspired one of my favorite new bloggers to write a post, and a pretty interesting one to boot. Since turnabout’s fair play and all that, I figured I would draw inspiration from that which I inspire. With very much further ado, here it is (what is this “it”?) :

Ways in which I am more masculine than you:

Chuck Norris has a list of facts about me.

I constantly mark my territory with urine. Only it’s shark urine, and I mine it myself.

I don’t order my steak well-done, or medium. I don’t even order it rare. I eat live fucking cows.

When I make a delicious pot roast, I don’t serve it with any pussy garnishes. Also I eat it with only a knife.

I make fun of overweight women, and once in a while I’ll own up to it if they hear me.

I have a white girl chained to a radiator.

I make fun of fags. Especially my boyfriend.

Ways in which I am more feminine than you:

I like to be the little spoon.

I am very much enamored with my own cheekbones. Seriously. They’re divine.

I use words like divine unironically.

Sometimes I menstruate a little.

Love Actually always makes me tear up a little bit, and I find Hugh Grant charming.

I lie a lot, almost always pointlessly.*

*A few examples of this: I’ve tried to convince strangers that I was an arsonist, that I had a rotary-style watch, that I was a Zen Buddhist, that I had nearly drowned trying to save puppies, kittens and orphans. None of these were at all successful, other than in amusing me.

Since logic and fluidity are too busy plagiarizing Nate Degraaf, I’ll end this post now.

Scope this, whore

Alright, I figured I’d switch up the pastiche a little bit. My attempt today is at Onion-style horoscopes. By the way, if anybody reads this, and feels compelled to add their own, I’d love to hear them. (Keep in mind I did these in like an hour)

Aries (March 21-April 19) - Your “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery” argument will be surprisingly successful at your upcoming identity theft trial.

Taurus (April 20-May 20) - Your unflinching literalness will combine with with musical obsession when you make a tragic attempt to become a part of emo-pop band Fall Out Boy.

Gemini (May 21-June 21) - The stars are unable to bring you this week’s horoscope, as they had a very important Oscar’s party to attend.

Cancer (June 22-July 22) - A group of monkeys banging away on typewriter’s will come dangerously close to finishing your graduate thesis before you.

Leo (July 23-August 22) - Your mother will enter her record 34th year of postpartum depression this Wednesday, a fact you will have mixed feelings about.

Virgo (August 23-September 22) - The expression “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” will once again fail to accurately describe your situation when doctors misplace your heart during next week’s open heart surgery.

Libra (September 23-October 23) - Your title as “World’s Biggest Star Trek Fan” will once again be easily relatable to your massive obesity.

Scorpio (October 24-November 21) - Your claim that nobody takes the time to write letters anymore will be invalidated by the initials next Tuesday’s serial killer will carve into your chest.

Sagittarius (November 22 -December 21) - The stars would love to give you your horoscope, but they just got Guitar Hero 2, and it’s pretty fucking awesome.

Capricorn (December 21-January 19) - Fate will once again prove that she has a strange sense of humor, when she recommends several Stephen Wright cds.

Aquarius (January 20-February 1 - A misunderstanding of the phrase “trophy wife” will lead you to send out hundreds of embarrassing wedding invitations featuring you and the second place prize you took at last year’s local bass fishing competition.

Pisces (February 19-March 20) - Your passionate treatise for the end of sectarian violence in Iraq will once again be met impassively by your cats.

Boxers or…Onion news in Briefs?

POMONA COLLEGE INTRODUCES NEW GENDER-NEUTRAL TOILETS

CLAREMONT, CA: Pomona College officials were pleased to announce the creation of new, gender neutral toilets last Thursday afternoon. Professor of Restroomology Robert Bryan called the move “long overdue” and cited a history of discrimination by toilets. “Toilets have long gotten a pass for being inanimate porcelain objects”, said Bryan, who got his degree at a local Burger King with the purchase of the new Texas Double Whopper. “But the idea that somebody would have to make a choice about whether to sit down or standup when using the bathroom is offensive. Urinals are of course the worst offenders, but even traditional sit-down toilets, with their contribution to the endless seat up/seat down controversy are also guilty.” The new toilets feature a variety of holes of various sizes, feature the option of flushing, not flushing, both, neither, or no response.