Archive for May, 2011

May 31, 2011

Doesn’t Get Much Better Than That

by ANDREW CLINE
edited by ANDREW HICKS

John Lennon: Followed Andrew's advice about wearing multiple sunglasses. Did not follow Andrew's advice about having a nice haircut. Got shot. Learned lesson.

You ever ask yourself, Hey, why don’t I get the ladies or have a cool laser guitar or other fabulous things? If you’re currently noting, Yes, I DO think that all the time, then congratulations. This essay is for you. If not, then think to yourself, Hey, why don’t I get the ladies or have a cool laser guitar or other fabulous things? then get back to me, because right now you’re wasting everyone’s time. Dummy.

Living a glamorous life like that of your regular ol’ garden-variety Andrew is a fairly simple process that I’mma let you in on right now. (WARNING: This process is not fairly simple and shouldn’t be executed unless you’re totally hardcore about committing to it). It can be accomplished via the following three steps:

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May 30, 2011

Nursery Rhymes Are Stupid

by WOO

What is this one really about?

Ring Around The Rosies

Ring around the rosies
Pocket full of posies
Ashes ashes
ROFLPLAGUE!

———-

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

Twinkle twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are (You just said it’s a star, dumbshit!)
Up above the world so high
Like a diamond in the sky (Diamond? Have you taken geometry? You already said it’s a star!)
Twinkle twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are (Didn’t I just tell you?!)

———-

There Was An Old Woman

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe
She had so many children, she didn’t know what to do
She gave them some broth, without any bread
Whipped them all soundly, and sent them to bed

MODERNIZED:

There was an old hood rat who lived in the ‘jects,
She had eight children for the welfare checks
On the first of the month they ate upper class
by the 15th the kids whined about hunger, and mom beat that ass

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May 29, 2011

Christians-Only Restrooms

by PAUL LAO
edited by ANDREW HICKS

"What's my crime?" "You wished me 'Happy Holidays,' heathen!"

Is it me, or does everyone want to have a hard luck story? “Growing up was so hard. We only had one car, and mom and dad couldn’t go on vacations, and I had to babysit my kid sister when I was 13.” “Life is so hard being slightly overweight.” “Life is so hard being a white male because of affirmative action.” “Life is hard because I have ADHD.” EMOOOOOOOO!!!

The big one I’m not understanding is Christians who claim they are persecuted in America. Really, isn’t the statistic that three out of every four Americans are Christians in this country? There are 305 million people in America, so that means there are 224.75 million Christians outnumbering the remaining 80.25 million. And they feel discriminated against? I haven’t seen a Christian-only bathroom or water fountain. People don’t yell at you for praying in public. In fact, breast feeding in public is more looked down upon than praying. If you wear a crucifix around your neck, no one will tell you to take it off.

So is it the media? Does it mess with freedom of religion? True, sex and violence run rampant on television, but do they purposely attack Christianity in the media? In horror movies, Catholic church scandals and Tim Curry in Disney’s The Three Musketeers? In the science of Jurassic Park, maybe? Feel free to add any other titles you can think of.

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May 28, 2011

Taste the Rainbow of Depends®

by LOLA TUCKER
edited by ANDREW HICKS

This image stolen from some old broad.

I can see menopause from my back door. What a crappy view.

For those of you who were unaware of the newly designated National Day of Mourning, let me be the first to bring you the news. From now on, my birthday shall officially be known as That Old Broad’s Pity Party. I even called my Congressman and had him bring it to the floor for a vote. Congress can’t agree on much these days, but they certainly could agree on one thing — that redheaded chick that lives in Manassas, Virginia? SHE IS GETTING OLD! I love bipartisan spirit. Please send your condolence cards directly to my home. I will be there, crying in my dirty martini and applying wrinkle cream with a putty knife.

I’m not really sure how this happened, but it sure did happen quickly. One day I was partying like a rock star with my rock star friends, all of us pretending like we were important and in charge of the world. The next day, my 11-year-old daughter was referring to me as “pre-elderly” and laughing at the music I listened to “back in the day.” WTF?

I don’t feel old. I’d like to think I don’t LOOK old, but apparently — to an 11 year old — I appear ancient. She probably thinks I’m in the beginning stages of Alzheimers, which is quite possible since I can’t remember shit anymore. I wonder when she’ll start looking at nursing homes for her ailing mom. I hope she picks a place in a warm weather climate, as
cold weather at my age has also become truly unappealing. It should be illegal to have arthritic hips in your forties.

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May 27, 2011

Quick Text, Long Regret

by WE’RE NOT FUNNY
edited by ANDREW HICKS

The Quick Text app is great for sending frequently used phrases like, “Be home soon” and “Call you when I get off work.” But members of our writing staff have complained that Quick Text’s prewritten suggestions don’t suit their specific common texting needs. Now WNF has a plug-in upgrade package that is guaranteed to save you time at least twice per week.AH

20 New Quick Text Phrases

  1. Out of crack, please stop.
  2. You forgot your panties.
  3. Meet me where we killed that guy.
  4. Bring your paycheck directly home.
  5. You are NOT the father.
  6. I really respect your opinion and independence as a woman.
  7. Grandma says you used all her lotion again. Call me on Tuesday.
  8. You were right, I’ve got AIDS.
  9. Roses are red. Violets are blue. Lemme get that booty call.
  10. Have you accepted Christ as your personal savior?
  11. Can’t talk now, I’m watching the Star Wars Holiday Special.
  12. I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up.
  13. What a coincidence. Rutherford B. Hayes is MY favorite one-term president too!
  14. What was your name again?
  15. Just saw the blackest baby EVER!
  16. You left the braunschweiger out on the counter again.
  17. I simply pooped my pants, and he let me off with a warning. I’m telling you, it’s the male equivalent of cleavage.
  18. I got 5 on it.
  19. Herpes is the curable one, right?
  20. Sorry, too busy to waste my time on your skanky ass.

CONTRIBUTORS: J.Miz, James Draper, Andrew Hicks, Justin Olomon, Jeff Bailey, Woo, Angie Rosenberg

May 26, 2011

Six Flags/Applebee’s Tornado Lockdown

by ANDREW HICKS

This is about as close as I got to the action at Six Flags pre-tornado sirens.

It was too good to be true. We got to Six Flags at 1:30 — me, my wife, my stepson and my two kids in diapers — and there were only three rows of cars in the entire parking lot. There were only like 20 yellow school buses, which I knew would mean a tiny fraction of the usual multitude of high school kids dribbling prize basketballs in roller coaster lines.

We got a spot in the front row, four spaces from the aisle. My older kid had fallen asleep as we entered the parking lot, so we hatched a quick scheme. I’d stay at the car with the little girl sleeping and the little boy chewing on toys, while my wife and stepson would go in the park, ride the amazing compact wooden roller coaster just inside the entrance and come back out to tag-team me in to go ride the same. In theory, by the time that cycle was complete, the little girl would wake up from her power nap, and we’d all go in together.

That cycle did not reach completion. Wife and stepson rode the wooden coaster — they were the only ones on the ride, and they had the option to stay on and ride again and again — but when they got back to the car, the Six Flags P.A. system was crackling about tornado watches and storm shelters. The only attraction I got to experience was the Talk To The Fat Security Guard In The Parking Lot ride.

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May 25, 2011

Song Challenge 15: Most Shameless Song About Jailbait

edited by ANDREW HICKS
creatively conceived by J.MIZ

WNF SONG CHALLENGE
DAY 15: MOST SHAMELESS SONG ABOUT JAILBAIT

Barney's "friends."

JAMES DRAPER
“I Love You, You Love Me,” by Barney the Dinosaur.

INSCRUTABLE JEFFREY TROTTER
That dirty bastard Gary Puckett and his perv-o buddies the Union Gap confessed and harmonized their obsession with Young Girl. (“Young girl, get out of my mind / My love for you is way outta line / You’d better run, girl! / You’re much too young, girl!”) Seriously, that entire song is about a guy who’s popping a chubby over the neighborhood girl scout.

ANDREW HICKS
I get creeped-out chills when I hear Ringo congratulate that girl in the song on turning 16. I figure he’s had his eye on her for awhile.

J.MIZ
“Meet My Ex-Boyfriend,” by J.Miz.

INSCRUTABLE JEFFREY TROTTER
Since he’s been found with child porn on his computer, deported from Cambodia for suspected statutory rape and convicted in Vietnam of statutory rape, it’s hard not to read meaning into some of Gary Glitter‘s supposedly innocuous lyrics. I think a good rule of thumb would be to assume any songwriter named Gary is a pedophile.

ANDREW HICKS
Googled G. Glitter. When he was convicted for his kid porn, the judge noted that his stash was “carefully, deliberately and enthusiastically done.” No joke necessary. This guy was clearly a connoisseur.

INSCRUTABLE JEFFREY TROTTER
I am now going over the lyrics of Rascal Flatts songs to find evidence of the secret yearnings of high-voiced lead singer Gary LeVox.

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May 24, 2011

This Week in J.Miz, Volume 4

by J.MIZ
edited by ANDREW HICKS


MONDAY

Dwight really needs to switch back to whole milk.

I have a headache THIS BIG. And it has “abstinence” written all over it.

I’m the girl you bring home to Mama. To piss her the fuck off.

The only thing that offends my cat Dwight more than the odor of peppermint is the music catalog of David Bowie.

Tonight I am going to bed alone in every sense of the word. Dwight even shuns me now that he’s lost some weight. #fuckskinnybitches

It’s painfully obvious that most computer software is written by men. Both are always telling you to “finish.”


SUNDAY

My tits have an inappropriate habit of staring men in the eyes.

I’ve spent half my life babysitting, and that doesn’t even count my dating career.

My boyfriend thinks a woman’s place is in the kitchen. Makes perfect sense to me. That’s where I keep the poison.

I only date married men. They understand commitment.

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May 23, 2011

Strange Encounters Of The Aldi Kind

by Anne Gardner

Over my years of shopping at Aldi, I have had a wealth of experiences – bizarre, random and some even downright offensive.  I’ve seen the schizophrenic shufflers muttering to themselves as they push their carts down the aisle, the ghetto fab beggars wanting me to trade cash for food stamps, the produce fondlers who reach into my cart and squish my bread and handle my broccoli, the rushed retirees who can’t wait to hog the conveyor belt for their canned stew and bananas so they can get home in time for their stories, and, most recently, the baby entertainers, who touch my child’s face and make faces of their own to greet my son.  None of it has stopped me from going, though.  The patrons may be strange, but I can’t resist spending a third of what I would spend elsewhere on my groceries.  Sure, the store feels a little third-world, you have a limited selection of goods, and you feel like you might need a hot bath when you’re finished, but the savings are worth it.

So, this morning after I finished my decaf, I took my weekly trip to Aldi.  And, this morning, as luck would have it, when I was getting out of my car, someone was finishing with their cart.  I love when that happens; it makes life with a 13+ pound baby and baby carrier that much easier.  So, I offered her a nice shiny quarter in exchange for the cart (at Aldi, you rent your cart for a quarter and have to take your cart back to the store front before you leave to get your quarter back – sort of genius, actually), I unloaded my son in his car seat from the car and strolled toward the front of the store.

As I was walking in, an elderly couple was exiting, and they had in their cart a huge, 2 gallon, potted banana pepper plant full of peppers that were just swaying in the breeze.  I love it.  Not only does Aldi bring me my dairy, bread and coffee at profoundly discounted prices, but they take all the work out of gardening for me, too.

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May 22, 2011

Rapture? Are you Rap-sure?

by ANDREW HICKS
and WE’RE NOT FUNNY

Dear Jesus,

We knew you weren’t coming back on Saturday, but that didn’t stop us from cleaning our houses just in case. And we don’t mean in the metaphorical, spiritual, “Get your house in order” sense. No, we vacuumed, swept and mopped in the kitchen, did our dishes and everything. We even put out three different varieties of Doritos, since we couldn’t remember which one was your favorite back in the day*.

Okay, we did get our hopes up a little bit when you called Macho Man Randy Savage to heaven a day early, leaving only 143,999 spots open for the rest of us. Then we remembered that the chosen 144,000 mentioned in the Bible are virgins, and you of all omniscient beings should know the Macho Man had his share of big-haired ’80s trailer trash**.

It wasn’t the most disappointing weekend ever. No earthly second coming from you, Jesus, but we did get to meet a delusional hobo who thought he was Vishnu, the supreme god of Vaishnavite Hinduism.

This Rapture hoopla*** reminded us of a few other times you were “supposed” to come back and didn’t. Remember when Pat Robertson spent all of 1982 talking about how you were definitely going to come back in 1982? Then he had to go on the air January 1, 1983. That was a pretty awkward show for Pat. (“Uh, when I said Jesus would come back in 1982, what I meant to say was, ‘The Jews For Jesus will have a comeback in 1982.’ That’s it. That’s what I was trying to say. ’82 was a HUGE year for Christian Jews.”)

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May 21, 2011

How Not To Internet Date, 21 May 2011

By MICHELLE DEE

Being a girl on a social networking site, you learn really fast that you are a target for losers looking for a booty call. This is the case no matter your relationship status. I found so much humor in this, I decided to create a singles profile on a dating website just to bait suckers like the ones below. Please, enjoy the outcome!

This week we have three short pieces for you! Keep in mind, some guys are just morons right out of the gate, and the conversation never gets going.

RandyCool: HI…… howz u doing…. send me you conatct detailz… my ya…hoo id is… ravianXXX_99…….. talk to u soon…..

Michelle Dee:  I’mz doinz wellz. Am Iz uzin my Z’s properly? Iz don’t givez outz personal informationz untilz Iz knowz you better. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

———-

Exception:  Hi

Michelle Dee:   Exception to what?

Exception:    noone fits what you are looking for, except me Lol:)))

Michelle Dee:   What can you offer that no one else can?

*crickets*

———-

fclock2: In STL tonight ….wanna cuddle tonight?

Michelle Dee: Ummm… no?

fclock2: Really …cute boy willing to do anything :)

Michelle Dee: oh desperate AND creepy!

fclock2: Yikes …nevermind then

May 20, 2011

Dirty Humor

by Paul Lao

Comedy is a lot like magic in the way Alan Moore explains it. The phrase “casting a spell on you,” is a literal meaning. Words in music, words that inspire, words that provoke anger, words that provoke sadness, words that hypnotize, words that are funny, forgotten words, words that build efficiency, words that define other words. If you think about it, there are many genres for the human language. In some cases we use what is called onomatopoeia which is what humans use to describe a sound of an animal or object that can’t be spelled but symbolized. We use imagery to help someone who is listening to visualize something less tangible like the fear of heights or how one copes with being numb from the waist down.

I have studied and dabbled in many aspects of comedy. I have done self deprecating comedy, impressions, story telling, one-liners, misdirection, religious, political, prop, sexual, racial, offensive, themed, low energy, high-energy, physical, satire, improvisational, sketch, mime, and a little bit of roasting. I even wrote a musical.

I have a lot of different friends, who all have different senses of humor that I had to adapt to in order to stay friends with. After a while I may forget their name but I will know to use a pun with those that can appreciate it. Or talk about the latest episode of Entourage and do a quick impression. Or even tell someone who knows my dad an embarrassing story.

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May 19, 2011

Easy Living Made Easier

Now Jenny is finally ready to watch TV safely.

by ERTEL GRAY and ANDREW HICKS

If life has taught us anything, it’s this: Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. In fact, stay away from horses. In fact, just stay away from any animal that has a better-than-average chance of mauling or trampling you to death. In fact, just stay away from animals altogether. This includes invertebrates and microscopic nuisances.

There’s an easier way to make like Prince and “get through this crazy thing we call life.” If you’re interested in learning how, slide back from the edge of your seat (You could fall!), and listen up:

  • Duct tape couch cushions and pillows around your torso and limbs, and wear a bike helmet everywhere you go. Fashion probably isn’t your friend if you’re reading these words, so why not make safety goal No. 1?
  • Breakfast is the most important meal, yes, but it can also be downright deadly. The solution is to eat soft foods with rounded corners and avoid crispy foods. Blend cereals together if possible. Or, better yet, prepare your cereal weeks in advance, so those crispy, jagged flakes become a gruel-like paste that you can intake easily through a straw. The roof of your mouth will thank you for liberating it from the daily bloody assaults of that sadist seaman Cap’n Crunch.
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May 18, 2011

Honkies In The Hood: Woo and J. Miz Reminisce

by WOO and J.MIZ
edited by ANDREW HICKS and WOO

WOO: Growing up in the hood, being the only white boy for six blocks, I realized quickly I was kind of like a pet or a mascot.

J.MIZ: Six blocks? I wasn’t even allowed to cross the street or go more than two houses down, and I could only ride my bike in the driveway. Until I was 7, I thought my Christian name was “Honkey.”

WOO: I soon learned that if I was passing a group of people and they said, “‘Sup,” I could stop and shoot the shit with them. “Come here, white boy!” meant I was about to lose my dignity and leave with a horrible headache.

J.MIZ: I got my hair pulled a lot, but weaves were expensive back then. I did rock several Afrocentric hair styles at the hands of my neighbor. Please erase any thoughts of Bo Derek in 10. We’re talking three ponytails, twisted with bubble-gum ball rubber-bands and multicolored barrettes shaped like poodles or other various hood dogs. My mom’s last straw was the black hair grease. I don’t mean African American either. The shit was black! Imagine the whitest, finest baby hair coated in STP 5W.

WOO: Best part of growin’ up on the hood? Free bicycles. Anytime bikes were stolen, the culprits would only keep the parts they needed, and the rest would be dumped into the alleyways. I’d pick up a frame one week, a couple wheels the next, handlebars the week after that, etc. I must assembled 40 bikes in my lifetime. My parents only bought me my first one at age 5. This is why I holler “East Side!” till I die.

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May 17, 2011

Coming Soon to WNF

by ANDREW HICKS and WE’RE NOT FUNNY

First rule of fake coupons: Don't superimpose the word "FAKE" in huge blue letters. It's a dead giveaway.

We’re Not Funny recently completed its first six months of publication. That’s 150+ posts, 30+ contributors and, I dunno, a dozen scattered, polite laughs from our readership. Now that we’re established as an Internet comedy magazine to be reckoned with, it’s time to move onward and upward with new features to keep website visitors coming back again and again.

Here are just a few of the improvements you can expect from the second half of the first year of the WNF website.

  • Pre-Filled New York Times Crossword Puzzle. Scan in a sample of your handwriting, email it to us, and each day’s puzzle will arrive in PDF, already appearing to have been filled out in pen with absolutely no mistakes. Impress your family, friends and, actually, no one at all.
  • Fake coupons to your favorite stores and restaurants that look like the real thing. Have the shopping or dining experience of your life by whipping out “100% Off” and “Buy Zero, Get Six Free” coupons.
  • J.Miz‘s Pornographic Origami Cutout Corner.
  • Weather With Woo, 5-Day Forecast. (“Sunday — open your fucking window and see for yourself; Monday — open your fucking window and see for yourself; Tuesday — open your fucking window and see for yourself; Wednesday — open your fucking window and see for yourself; Thursday — chance of rain.”)
  • WNF Personals, with profiles of over 5,000 “hot chicks” who are all secretly Buddah Eskew.
  • “Who the Freak is Ertel Gray: A 200-Part Editorial.”
  • Andrew Hicks combines his best jokes into the new column Obscure Pop Culture References No One Fucking Gets.
May 16, 2011

From the Mind of J.Miz, Volume 2

Cemetery: The singles' bar for the new millennium.

by J.MIZ
edited by ANDREW HICKS

I’m going to start using the obituaries as a dating tool. I can be very comforting to recently widowed penis.

The religious will tell you to pray and repent in order to be spared on Judgment Day. Fuck that, just make sure you’re in line behind ME.

As a single woman in her thirties, it’s difficult for me to meet guys. I’m starting to miss my old job as Glory Hole Attendant.

My Jewish boyfriend would like to thank the Pope for all the time I spent in Catholic church, kneeling.

I confronted my boyfriend about his sex addiction, and he’s in therapy now. Sadly for me, it’s hands-on therapy to improve his technique.

With this humidity, I should just wear my hair curly, but I can’t find my Black Power pick. And I’m nothing without my accessories.

I once dated a guy with ED. Yeah, his dick would fail… at recognizing who its girlfriend was.

I would never get paid for sex. Robbing dudes afterward is way more fun.

I will never forget my senior prom. That was the night my daughter Toiletta was born.

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May 15, 2011

Announcing Ertel Gray’s 500th Facebook Friend Contest Winner

G.I. Joe's Destro, off to refinance his home.

by ANDREW HICKS and ERTEL GRAY

Last week, we announced our first We’re Not Funny contest — Be Ertel Gray’s 500th Facebook Friend. Which inspired 53 friend requests and 253 people asking themselves the question, “Who the freak is Ertel Gray?”

While we still can’t answer that specific query, we can tell you Ertel took this contest very seriously, putting together a grand-prize package said at press time to include a crayon drawing (“really cheesy, think third-grade art project”) of Ertel and his new friend, a bobblehead of Destro from G.I. Joe, and a copy of the SyFy original movie Revenge of the Rats.

“It’s a horrible movie, and I have a HUGE fear of rats/mice,” remarks Ertel, “so giving away Revenge of the Rats will be a double blessing.”

This prize package will be sent via postal service to the lucky winner, whose name is…

Before I announce the winner, I’d like to mention that Ertel received requests from strangers, friends of friends and people from Ertel’s hometown. Ertel decided not to consider anyone who lived close to home, because, a) Who wants to mail a package around the block? and b) “Every time I’d run into them, there’d be that awkward pause, followed by, ‘Hey, remember that time…?’ ‘YES, I REMEMBER, GOD DAMMIT!'”

The winning entrant in this contest is…

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May 14, 2011

The Day After ‘Judgment Day’

"And what a lovely singing voice you must have..."

by MICHELLE DEE
edited by ANDREW HICKS and WOO

I have seen a lot of hoopla about Judgment Day approaching on 5/21, and it got me thinking, What would happen if all the world’s true believers disappeared on this day? Lucky for me, I’d be around to see it!

Everyone knows I’d miss the Rapture, but there’d be some surprise heathens in my midst — President Obama and the entire on-air team at Fox News. I’m pretty sure Obama is a closeted atheist, because what Christian fights for the right of those with no religion? And the Fox News team pretends to be extreme right-wing, but it’s an obviously an act for ratings.  They would be left behind in the Judgment Day disappearances, but their viewership would vanish from existence.

The only “crazy conservatives” in the public eye who truly believe the diarrhea coming out of their mouths are Fred “God Hates Everyone But Us” Phelps and his family. They would be taken in the 5/21 Rapture. Sure, they rub many of us the wrong way, but they are true overachievers for Jesus.

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May 13, 2011

From the Mind of J.Miz

Yoko Ono, what HAVEN'T you ruined?

by J.MIZ
edited by ANDREW HICKS

Chicken-murdering tornados, the Royal Wedding, Bin Laden and Donald Trump. With all the conspiracy theorists out there, why is no one seeing these eerie coincidences and asking, “Where the fuck is Yoko Ono?!”

If you let him, my boyfriend would level the world, start it all over his way, and we’d invent alcohol, Xanax and AA simultaneously.

I had an ex who liked me to say how “big” he was during sex. I had no problem with that until i mistook a polygraph machine for some kinky shit. Grown men crying ain’t a sexy look.

I went on a dinner/first date last week. Even before dessert, he asked me if I wanted kids. I thought, Not till I see you pay our check, buddy! Then I thought, Shit, maybe he’s down for some “practice” tonight. So I answered, “Wow, that’s such a refreshing question to be asked by a guy. Let’s get the bill and discuss this over drinks. Teeheehee!” SUCKER!

My ex-boyfriend called me last night to see if I wanted to fool around. I said, “Isn’t that basically all we did for two years?” He then offered to do oral, and I told him no again. As a last ditch effort, he said he’d do “that thing you like.” I told him, “Fucking other guys? What do you think your call interrupted?!”

My cat Dwight is hating me pretty hard right now, for what he calls Showing Off and what I call Making Myself A Sammich.

I have the volume turned low on the ‘puter and could swear I just heard Robert Smith beautifully sing the word “tits.”

If life was like Facebook, my “single” vagina would “report abuse.”

My ex-boyfriend was really into me staring him in the eyes and giving him handy j’s. It was really uncomfortable to laugh so hard with him gawking at me like that.

The Mother’s Day photo campaign on Facebook is a bit insensitive to people whose moms may have died. It’s more of a smack in the face than Facebook denying the pic of my mom from a porn shoot she did in the ’80s.

The last guy I slept with took so long to finish, by the time he was done, I was already fucking the next guy.

My friend called me today to see how I was. I answered the phone solely so I could make him jealous that I was listening to Hall and Oates.

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May 12, 2011

Can You Purchase A Bazooka At Walmart?

by PAUL LAO
edited by ANDREW HICKS and WOO

At work, I was serving a couple who were curious to know my nationality. They were half-Filipino/half-white, and I was trying to describe to them the general location of Cambodia on a map. So I basically broke down Asia into the big pieces: Mainland China, Japan and Southeast Asia (Vietnam, Laos, Thailand, Cambodia) in relation to the Philippines. I mentioned India, Afghanistan and Pakistan, and they immediately exploded into prejudice comments. (“Damn towelheads! Red dot hodgies!”)

Two weeks after 9/11, when I was in school at IU, a girl from Indonesia was reported to have been punched in the face by a male on campus. She may have been Muslim. But there are over a billion Muslims worldwide who have no ties to Al Queda, just as neo-Nazis and Klansmen who are Christians don’t represent the whole religion or all white people, even though they would certainly like to.

Quick judgments based on profiling frustrate me. We dehumanize foreigners while America’s reputation as a nation of elitists is overshadowed by impatient, fat, lazy, selfish domestic attitudes. As Americans, we are divided on when our nation should go to war. Should we go to war to stop genocide? Should we go to war with Central and/or South American nations because they ship drugs into our country? One definite — we can always wage war in the name of revenge. See: Pearl Harbor and 9/11.

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May 11, 2011

Route 69: Double Entendre Road Signs

by BUDDAH ESKEW

While out driving the other day, I saw a bunch of road signs that somehow all reminded me of my sex life. Half of these signs should hang above my side of the bed, and the other half should hang on Mrs. Buddah’s side of the bed.

Over Buddah’s side of the bed:
1. Dip
2. Falling Rocks
3. No U-Turns
4. Road Closed To Thru Traffic
5. Speed Bump
6. Handicapped Parking Only
7. Slow Children at Play
8. Mile Marker 69
9. Loose Gravel
10. Rough Grooved Surface

Over Mrs. Buddah’s side of the bed:
1. Road Narrows
2. Bridge Out Ahead
3. Wrong Way
4. Sharp Curve Ahead
5. No Parking At Any Time
6. Road Construction Next 5 Miles
7. Do Not Enter
8. Slippery When Wet
9. No Dumping Allowed
10. Parking in Rear

I acted out the Loose Gravel sign, and Mrs. Buddah was somehow turned off. Tonight I’m gonna work hard on obeying No Dumping Allowed.

May 10, 2011

You Might Be A Mom

by ANNE GARDNER
edited by ANDREW HICKS and WOO

  • If your priority is on how cute your kid’s outfit looks when you take them to school, while you wear sweatpants and mismatched flip flops, you might be a mom.
  • If you carefully smooth and style your child’s hair and totally ignore the syrup you got in your own from the morning’s waffles, you might be a mom.
  • If the phone wakes you from a deep sleep at the ripe old hour of 9:30 pm, and you try to answer it by turning the lamp on and off, there’s a good chance you might be a mom.
  • If you’d need a 12-step program and hypnosis to even consider eliminating caffeine from your diet, you might be a mom.
  • If you’ve left the house with several kinds of bodily fluids on your shirt because one or more of the kids were late for some sort of sporting event, it is likely that you might be a mom.
  • If you see a brown smudge on the carpet and bend to sniff to see if it’s poop, you might be a mom.
  • If you, without hesitation, sniff the socks or crotches of pants laying on the floor of the kids rooms to see if they’re clean or dirty, you might be a mom.
  • If you have taken your finger and licked it to remove dirt from any surface, then guess what? You might be a mom.
  • If you hear the same words tumbling from your mouth that you heard from your own mom’s mouth — and you not only don’t care, but you feel like it totally makes sense (“Don’t come running to me when you break your leg!”), you’re probably a mom.
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May 9, 2011

Garbage Ass: A Poem

by J.MIZ
as interpreted by WOO

its a little creepy
when i’m peeing,
Dwight (cat) will saunter in
to drop one of his
Lucifer deuces.
then when i look
in repulsion
his eye contact is so intense
it pierces me
and my soul can smell his garbage ass.

May 8, 2011

3DSC, Day 14: Best song by a boy band or girl group

This pic stolen from Rofl Razzi.

edited by ANDREW HICKS
creatively conceived by J.MIZ

WNF 30-DAY SONG CHALLENGE
DAY 14: FAVORITE SONG BY A BOY BAND OR GIRL GROUP

WOO
“I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys not only has a nice soft groove to move to, it also serves as reminder that “Y” can be used as a vowel sound. (“Tell me why-eeeeee.”)

ANNE GARDNER
I wasnt really allowed to listen to secular music growing up, so I missed a lot. I was, however, “down with the DC Talk.” I liked that song, “That Kinda Girl,” about the perfect Christian woman. I felt like the boys were singing it just for me. I was, after all, the picture of virtuousness… Virtuosity… Virtuously…. Virtuism… Fuck it… Whatever…

WOO
I used to listen to this Messikan rapper named T-Bone who did Christian hip-hop. Of course, I always listened to secular too. I was rather lucky, as my parents took a religious hiatus from the time I was 9 until I was 19. I got to enjoy my teen years without psychotic restrictions on things like music and clothing. However, my attempts to draw a pentagram on the basement floor were always thwarted before I could get the candles lit.

ANNE GARDNER
I used to sneak-listen to New Kids on the Block. I loved their song “Hangin’ Tough” and had a poster of a cat on my wall hanging by just one paw from a clothes line or something. It was my private rebellion against my parents. And, I had a secret crush on Donnie Walhberg. I didn’t find out until later that it was his brother Mark that gave me the really good vibrations. #funkybunch

ANDREW HICKS
“MMMBop” is still damn catchy, and I bet in the years since, the members of Hanson have grown up to be some very stunning, handsome women.

C.J. DODD
“Judas” by Lady Gaga. I technically consider her recordings to be a “band performance” because she has two sets of genitals.

ANNE GARDNER
I heard somewhere that Gaga’s shoulder horns are going to start backup singing on her next tour.

EMILY TOOPS
Too bad Enrique Iglesias doesn’t count as a group. “Tonight (I’m Fucking You)” is today’s answer to Frank Sinatra‘s “The Way You Look Tonight.”

Fun game: See how many of these haircuts you can spot during your next trip to Wal-Mart.

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May 7, 2011

You Might Be A Douchebag

Now here's a real fucking D-bag! How dare she win!

by MICHELLE DEE

If you find yourself wearing your sunglasses indoors, with a suit jacket over your band T-shirt, obnoxiously chewing a stick of gum, you might be a douchebag.

If you are over 30 and still feel the need to flip the bird, throw up devil horns, or show off your Gene Simmons tongue in a photo, you might be a douchebag.

If you post a pic of yourself with a hot chick on a dating profile and fill in your interests as, sex, working out and racing up your pimped-out candy-painted Mustang, you might be a douchebag.

If you find yourself laughing maniacally, challenging an old lady with said pimped-out car at a stop light, you might be a douchebag.

If you are the type that winks at any cashier or waitress you hand your card to, you might be a douchebag.

If you are the guy doing a disappearing coin trick as your only means to connect with a child, you might be a douchebag.

Actually, fuck might, you ARE a Douchebag!

May 6, 2011

Moron moves

Not as unpleasant as moving.

by ANDREW HICKS

I’ve never had a prostate exam or root canal, but I’ve moved residences plenty of times. I imagine moving to be the most unpleasant of the three. At least you get drugs with the root canal. At least the prostate exam is over in minutes. When you move, you’re dead sober, and you have that metaphorical finger in your ass for weeks.

This was my biggest move yet — moving out of a four-bedroom house — and it made even my minor flaws become glaringly obvious, to the point where my wife and I were either having a hard time getting along or just plain not getting along. Worse, moving made me stupid. Here are some high(low?)lights:

  • Our plan was to get rid of as much stuff as possible before the move. I spent hours going through old boxes of personal stuff, downsizing papers and movies and CDs. The things I went through represented probably 1 percent of our total belongings. We still have a ton of secondhand furniture and duplicate junk that the time crunch forced us to move with us anyway. I could not see the forest for the trees, and speaking of which, I probably did not need to waste time digging up and moving all the trees from the old house, as the new house already has trees. What’m I gonna do with all these extra trees?
  • When gathering a handful of trash from the car with car keys in hand, I threw the whole pile of stuff in the trash, keys included. Next morning, exerted all kinds of time and effort looking for the keys, then thought, What if the keys are in the trash? Then thought, Nah, I couldn’t possibly have done something that stupid. Then thought, Better check anyway. Found them under a used, grounds-filled coffee filter. Then thought, I certainly could and did do something that stupid.
    read more »

May 5, 2011

CONTEST: Be Ertel Gray’s 500th Facebook Friend!

When Ertel Gray accepts a bitch's friend request, bitch betta show some gratitude!

by ERTEL GRAY
edited by ANDREW HICKS

Recently, while browsing the cornucopia of addictive wonders known as Facebook, I noticed that I was at 499 friends. I thought to myself, Ertel, ol’ bean, this is your special opportunity to, a) meet a new friend and, b) do something nice for that new friend.

Then I thought, Wait a minute, Bean, you can’t just let anyone receive this honor. Let’s make this into a contest.

And why not? I’m a great Facebook friend: I write funny statuses, I post links and I’m a Gen X pop-culture demon. And here’s what I don’t do: Send you meaningless event notifications every single day or clog up your wall with Farmville and Angry Birds crap. Plus, I’m willing to bet you do not already have a friend named Ertel. Everyone needs an Ertel.

So how do you enter the contest? Simple: send me a friend request. Make sure to temporarily unblock your privacy settings so I can really poke around and get a sense of who you are. Do you like a certain sports team? Do you have too many pets? Is your stepdaughter butt-ass ugly? I want to know before I commit to you.

For extra special consideration, inbox me a message of 50 words or less stating why you should be Ertel Gray’s 500th Facebook friend. Excerpts will be published in our results post next week. Who knows, maybe if you don’t win, we’ll still end up being pen pals.

Think this is all a mental-masturbatory waste of time? You won’t if you win. The grand prize package is absolutely, seriously for real. I’m working on it right now. Here are some highlights:

A Xeroxed picture AND iron-on decal of the Wilford Brimley “Diabeetus” stencil.
–A full-body photo of me, cut out and pasted on cardboard to make a mini Ertel, complete with comic-book dialogue bubbles of my most freqently said things.
–An unpopped bag of Pop Secret Movie Theater popcorn, so you can watch a movie with the “virtual” me.
–A really cheesy (think 3rd grade art project ) crayon drawing of me and my new 500th friend.

And that’s just the beginning. I have an entire week to jam the prize pack full of nonvaluable goodies. These prizes will be mailed to the winner. Trust me, you’ll get some really cool swag!

I should note, contributors to We’re Not Funny are ineligible in this contest, lest the casual reader think it rigged. Also ineligible — all members of the band Kansas, past and present. Sorry, Kansas, you put out an album called Point of Know Return. I know you were trying to be clever, but come on. That’s just bad grammar, man.

So, cast your name into the hat, the empty Sam’s Club mayonnaise jar or waistband of your nearest stripper’s G-string, and do something I guarantee will be a LOT more fun than some stupid Facebook “Which ‘Sex And The City’ Character are you?” survey. (For the record, I’m “Samantha.”)

[EDITOR’S NOTE: Contest ends at midnight, May 13th. View Ertel Gray’s Facebook profile here.]

May 4, 2011

This Week in J.Miz, Volume 3

Recently reincarnated as middle-aged Illinois barfly. Yes, gentlemen, she is single.

by J.MIZ
edited by ANDREW HICKS

MONDAY

My boyfriend is visiting from New York. He kept emphatically insisting, “You should move, baby! You should move!” Honestly, I was pretty afraid until I realized I was laying on his nuts.

My boyfriend says I’m pretty when I cry. This makes me happy. The rape and domestic violence, not so much.

I’m finally dating an older guy who likes to dance. Unfortunately, in the years I’ve been waiting, there has been an end to the need for glow sticks.

I just had my first argument with my new boyfriend. It was hot and wet. He only needed 28 stitches.

SATURDAY

Looking at a woman. Late 40s/early 50s. Black tank, stretch jeans, white three-quarters blazer, white gym shoes, pork pie hat. Somewhere, Duckie from Pretty in Pink is pissed! And half-naked.

I wonder if anyone ever used multiple personality disorder as a DUI defense: “Officer, only one of us was drunk, and that guy was NOT driving!”

I put effort into what I’m wearing for work. An old dude just said, “I like your overall look!” Then he said, “But I’m a prick, what do I know?!” Fuck your old-saggy-balls compliment, Indian giver!

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May 3, 2011

Osama: Hole In The Turban Edition

Funniest thing about this photo? The apostrophe is in the wrong place, and it means "Got them," not "Got him." Oh, America...

by BUDDAH ESKEW and WE’RE NOT FUNNY
edited by ANDREW HICKS

Breaking news from the We’re Not Funny Washington bureau and every corner of Facebook — well, okay, it’s old news now — Osama bin Laden is dead, and every male in America is growing a freedom stache.

Not to editorialize, but doesn’t it seem a little un-American for us to have gone in and murdered this guy in front of his family, and not broadcast it via satellite? The networks could’ve charge triple their Super Bowl rates for a quick commercial in between the first and second gunshots.

They took Osama by surprise. He was minding his own business, watching Kirstie Alley waddle-waltz on “Dancing With the Stars” and drinking a Miller Lilililililight at the time of the CIA attack.

After his death, bin Laden expected to join 72 virgins in heaven. Osama, sorry man, Charlie Sheen deflowered all six dozen of them before they made it to the pearly Caucasian gates. It was a popular Heidi Fleiss off-menu whore special in 1991.

Osama, look, your virgins weren’t virgins, and you’re in hell now. On the plus side, you do get to listen to the obscure Winger B-side “Seventy Two Virgins” at top volume on drive thru speakers for all eternity. The guitar solo has been cut out, too. Nothing but screaming vocals and off-rhythm drums in Hades.

Poor Osama expected to be top dog in hell, too, but now he’s sharing an unairconditioned camp cabin with Hitler, and 50 bucks says Adolph gets the top bunk.

Elton John expressed interest in singing at Osama’s funeral (“And it seemed to me you lived your life / Like an airplane-turned-projectile-missile in the wind”), but the U.S. government had already given the jackass (Osama, not Elton) a traditional Islamic burial at sea. All the more reason not to drink the water in Mexico.

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May 1, 2011

May Day, May Day!

Osama is dead, bitches! We’re taking the day off. There’s entirely too much Koolaid to be drinking to bother with article writing.