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Nothing is more fun than lying to people, especially when intoxicated. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fairly truthful guy and it’s not like I’m trying to lie to people to get them to sleep with me or owe me stuff or anything iniquitous. But since the weekend is coming up I figured I’d pass off one of my favorite passtimes for you all to try out this weekend – if you don’t already do it.

It works best if you go out with a couple really good friends who you know will automatically back up whatever you say and hopefully add to it. The idea is to keep the lie going, keep it believable, and try to make your partners in crime¹ break-up with laughter so that the lie is given away by the person who laughs. It seems a little ridiculous to lie merely for the pleasure of making someone else be responsible of “getting caught” but it really is a fun game. Here’s one my two roommates in Miami did one night – I can’t remember all of it word for word but this will give you the idea.

(Brewer is talking to two girls. Jables and Andy are nearby…)

Brewer: Yeah, I live with those two guys over there, we went to high school together. We all even played defense on the high school football team.

(Andy and Jables make their way over)

Andy: Dude, you telling out football stories? This guy (indicated Brewer) was nuts. We called him PF-15.

Girl 1: Why did you call him that?

Jables: Because he was constantly late-hitting people and getting personal fouls.

Andy: It was a little ridiculous, I mean these guys would clearly be out of bounds or on the ground and POW! Out of nowhere!

Girl 2: Oh geez, Brewer you don’t seem like that kind of guy-

Brewer: I know. It’s just that Strong Safety mentality. When I was out on the field I couldn’t control myself – I usually never even heard the whistle blowing the play dead.

Andy: Yeah. I remember you got thrown out of so many games – remember when you broke that guy’s collar bone?

Girl 1: Oh no!

Jables: It was unbelieveable. Stretcher and everything – Brewer was not exactly a fan favorite for the opposing team. Nor a pinnacle of sportsmanship.

Andy: Not that Jables is one to talk. Although you never really flagrant fouled, you just kind of played the dirtiest line-backer position of all time.

Girl 2: What do you mean?

Brewer: You know, face-masking, just random little dirty stuff while no one was watching. Didn’t you poke that guy in the eye once?

Jables: Dude, you should’ve heard what he called my mom. I don’t stand for that shit.

Girl 1: (to Andy) What did you do?

Andy: I was just fast as hell. I ran the forty in 3.8 seconds until I broke my ankle Jr. year. Then I was down 4.8. It sucked.

Girl 2: Isn’t that incredibly fast?

Andy: Yeah, fastest ever actually. A lot of people dogged me and said I cheated but I could catch anyone. Until the ankle injury of course. I was just never the same.

I’m gonna end it there but this was basically what we did at every party. Sometimes we’d even be in completely opposite places (like if someone lived in a house, we would be corroborating stories in the front yard that came from the back yard, etc). It would continue as long as we could keep straight faces.

Anyway, go out there and have a fun weekend. I’ll be the guy who’s the center of attnetion, talking about his days spent post-college in a Spanish Mission working as a mule for the local drug cartel.

¹NOT Partners in Kryme, the singing duo responsible for “T-U-R-T-L-E POWER!”

You know things are serious when your best friend dies. And it’s not that my best friend died, I’m just saying that’s when you know things are serious. Your good buddy kicks off to see that big busty blonde in the sky and you just look around and say to yourself “It’s real. Yes, it’s real.”

It is going to happen to kids on playgrounds everywhere. The guy they used to pick last in kickball will no longer be around. The person they used to push on the swing will have done their last superman only days earlier. Billy’s first school crush won’t have her ponytail available for yanking, nor will he be able to sneak a peek at her underwear. And maybe at lunch time no one will be at the “cool table.”

A new epidemic has arisen in the United States and while most trundle about their everyday lives blindly to it, I would like to make my large¹ reading audience aware of its pandemic overtaking of schoolrooms everywhere. What am I talking about? You ask. Is he just making up stupid crap again? You suppose. I’m afraid it’s all too real. “It” is called “Chuffing.”

(Here we see an old photo of a middle-aged Chuffer)

Invented by the Dutch in 976 AD as a way to oust witchery from small towns, Chuffing is the act of huffing up chalk dust that has been dispelled by either grinding chalk up in a large complicated mill, or, more currently, banging erasers together. It was thought that chuffing was largely forgotten about once the majority of Dutch Witches had been chased into chasms or consumed by villager-lit forest fires at the ends of complicated traps into which they had been enticed by chuff-dust, but apparently its back.

(Here we see a demonstration of extracting a “Chuffing Cloud” from everyday blackboard erasers)

Parents in rural towns in the Midwest have been affected most so far and their cries of outrage are finally starting to be recognized by local media. They’ve had to start spanking again and they are NOT happy about it. Says Florence Mills of South Dakota about her son, Teddy:

“My son goes to West Central and yesterday when he came home he had a funny white powder all over his nose. When I asked him what it was he just ran to his room. I went through his bag and found two erasers he had stolen from school and noticed he had written in sharpie on his backpack – ‘Don’t Sotp Chuffin.'”

More stories are cropping up everyday about kids just like Teddy Mills. The kids get hooked when they’re asked to stay after school to bang the erasers out and inevitably end up inhaling vast amounts of chalk dust. Here’s what happens.

A child bangs two erasers together to disspell chalk particles into the air. Said child then steps into the cloud and inahles. The bits of chalk enter the nervous system through the lungs and the child is sent into a state of euphoria, not unlike the one achieved by hitting a homer in whiffle ball or calling their “crush” and then hanging up the phone immediately.

(Valerie Little in mid-chuff)

Valerie Little (pictured above) was kind enough to sit down and talk a little about Chuffing. Her story:

“It all started a few months ago. It was my last period of the day and I had just finished up drawing pretty stars on my social studies bookcover that I made myself out of a brown paper bag. Anyway, I was asked to stay behind and help clean out the erasers. This took about 15 minutes and I realized as I was leaving the class room I was high as a kite. I immediately told all my friends ‘our days of sniffing glue and getting high off of empty hair-spray cans is over!’ I started a local chuff-club and now it’s practically all we do.”

Sadly the mortality rate of a Chuffer versus that of a normal child is stratospheric. When will it end? Do your part and join your local PTA’s efforts to stop Chuffing. I urge you, before its too late.

¹Small

This is probably one of the best songs written in the past 15 years as far as I’m concerned. It’s on Continuum, but some cool kid was lucky enough to hear this tune when it was just a baby, and tape it for the rest of us:

Go buy Continuum right now. It’s worth it if the only song you like is “Stop This Train.” But it won’t be. More to come…

Here’s a list of supplies you used to need on a regular basis, but probably don’t anymore:

1) A pencil box
2) A set of crayons, the more colors you have, the cooler you are.

3) A ruler
4) A new lunchbox, metal or plastic, with designated favorite cartoon on the front.

5) Of course, it also came with a thermos – useful for a cold drink, or some hot Mac&Cheese.

6) One of those small, cube-shaped pencil sharpeners

7) A couple folders with your favorite sports team/2nd favorite TV show.
8) A package of markers. Washable of course.

Anything I missed?

Last night as I was walking home to my apartment, all full of ice cream and gnocchi, I noticed a bunch of those metal sidewalk barricades lining the block my apartment is on. After reading some vague signs about when you can’t park there and seeing no real information explaining the need for barricades.

At first I figured, since my neighborhood is largely Puerto Rican, maybe they were going to have a parade. It was then pointed out that a parade probably would not occur from 6pm-12am on a Monday night. But then I remembered how often I come home to find kids playing well past midnight and thought maybe the parade would happen.

Eventually though, I decided to just ignore it and go watch TV, like the good American citizen I am.

This morning on my typical walk to the subway the barricades were of course up, only now there was a big difference – I was boxed in on the sidewalk. The police weren’t letting anyone through. I was told that in a few minutes the presidential motorcade was going to be coming by and then they’d re-open the sidewalks.

Not really caring about getting to work on time I told the cop I’d rather be outside waiting in the sunshine than going to work anyway at which point he said “well thanks. I’ve been called every name in the book so far this morning – you’re one of the nice ones.” At this point some jerk on a bike pedals up and upon finding out he couldn’t cross the street for a whole 15 minutes he immediately started bitching and then gave up. A few minutes later he went back to the cop with a well-crafted arugment about why he should be let through.

I thought to myself “how ridiculous is it that this guy is bitching to the cop and then figured that if he had some really solid points the cop just might let him by.” I wondered if I were a cop if anyone could talk me into letting them by. I mean I’m sure someone would be able to do it but I don’t know what it would take:

Deal with it. It’s a Monday. I’ll try to be more creative come Wednesday or something.