PROM DATE

This time of year is known for what has become a standard ritual that has aided in turning delightful apple-cheeked teenagers into delightful apple-cheeked teenagers sans their virginities. It's prom season, kids! It's a wonderful time when parents allow their children to experience a facet of adulthood, where they don formal attire, perhaps even rent a limo so they can feel like their favorite celebrities: popular kids going to the same prom, and make complete asses of themselves by dancing and making their disturbing lack of rhythm public. Nevertheless, the best part is saved for later, for when and if everything plays out, you'll get to enjoy the fumbling awkward experience that is to touch and be touched by a stranger just as confused by everything as you, even if it ends inexorably in vociferous, incoherent shouting and uncontrollable sobbing. I offer you my warmest congratulations.

If you're one of the many high school students whom've learned everything about prom from teen movies featuring actors in their mid-twenties as highschool students, you were led to believe that the ugliest girl in school will suddenly blossom into a beautiful flower on prom night, and then she - and you by association - will instantly become legends. That may have aided you in asking a real beast to be your prom date with some misbegotten confidence. However, if you suddenly become realistic, you may find yourself dateless on prom night, or worse, in the sweaty arms of the ugliest girl in school at the prom, whom, unsurprisingly, remains the ugliest girl in school -- possibly the county. That, as I'm sure you know, will cause you embarrassment that neither graduation nor the sweet release of death can help you escape. Thankfully, you'll no longer have to live with the consequences of that horrible decision.

Not having a date to prom used to mean that you need a better personality, but not anymore! Give us a call at Alex Nada's Substitute Prom Date Emporium and Warehouse, and our expert team of dilettantes will have a prom date formally dressed and super psyched about going to the prom with you within minutes of your call! Our prom dates are not only genuinely awkward, but are guaranteed to put out*, making for an authentic prom night experience! Some of our other services include:

Humane prom night baby disposal.

High-fives!

Alex Nada's Substitute Prom Date Emporium and Warehouse - we put the "PRO" in "Prom Date." Incidentally, also in "Substitute," in place of "Sub."

(*): Available at the discretion of local hookers.

Individual results may and probably will vary. ANSPDEW does not take any responsibility for any and all parties involved, or anything. Service not available in AL, AK, AZ, AR, CA, CO, CT, DE, FL, GA, HI, ID, IL, IN, IA, KS, KY, LA, ME, MA, MI, MN, MS, MO, MT, NE, NV, NH, NJ, NM, NY, NC, ND, OH, OK, OR, PA, RI, SC, SD, TN, TX, UT, VT, VA, WA, WV, WI ,WY, most parts of MD, or outside of the United States.

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COMMERCIAL BREAK

It seems you comm. majors won't stop, will you? I can't watch my favorite episode of the Golden Girls, or anything on my once beloved television without you bastards raping my eyes and consciousness with your incessant commercials. Was it something I did to you? I mean, I do laugh heartily at your expense, but that's no excuse for consistently abusing me and the rest of the planet with me. Don't you think you're taking my harmless, effervescent, perfectly justified giggles a little too seriously?

I'll take a wild rapier stab of a guess at what you've learned and were certified for by the finest professors DeVry has to offer. The most important thing is to make people realize that they need that which you're advertising, right? Regardless of whether or not they need it. First you target a demographic, then you research to find the best time to reach them, and how to appeal to them, and then you bombard them mercilessly with a groupthink impression of what is familiar; featuring people of the same age and persuasion, praising a product they can't live without.

In the morning during The Price Is Right, it's all denture glue, Depends, Rascal scooters, personal injury lawyers, multi-vitamins, LifeAlert, Diabetus(Thanks for that, Mr. Brimley) medication, life insurance, food, and pet supplies.. I actually have no problem with the latter, but only because it features the lovely Betty White. Moving on. All of those commercials feature old people in familiar environments, and brief intermissions with young people whom are so eager to help, unlike those bastard grandchildren old people have come to expect. That's merely the first volley of crap. Later, around mid-day, the emphasis is switched from anti-detritus supplies to cleaning products, targeting whomever assumes the role of the housewife, brimful of broken promises of simplifying his/her menial chores.

Around dinner time, you cock-crusaders machine gun-fire food commercials. From that point on, it's all food, food, food, pills to lower your cholesterol level so you can eat more food, snacks, and all kinds of food; fast food, restaurant food, canned food, microwavable food, ready-to-eat foods in easy-open bags, diet food, as well as diet plans and exercise machines to help you work off all of that food. Are you worried about the internal complications of eating so much food? Don't. Now there's extra-strength Peptobismol to help you digest the food, and relieve heartburn by coating your stomach lining and entire gastrointestinal system with a layer of pink Kevlar.

God forbid I'm up late, whether working, writing, helping others, or yelling at my feet. Because whatever I do will do little to sway you from assuming that I'm a satyric, lascivious underachiever with no goals or direction in life, and a penis so small that the only thing it fucks is my self-esteem. That's what you must think, right? That's why you air Girls Gone Wild commercials non-stop, paired with birth control, "male enhancement," which is another issue altogether, and ways to get my high school diploma mailed to me in two weeks. Two weeks! You knew of the existence of such an institution, and yet you watched me waste four years of my adolescent life, you pricks.

Whatever. Your degree and your job are hardly relevant where it matters. I mean, if commercials are mostly to advertise convenient non-nutritious foods, enhancement pharmaceuticals, and car insurance, they wouldn't be much use in a third world country, would they? Would they? Airing any of those commercials there would be like airing Sonic commercials here in Maryland, while you know as well as I that there are no Sonics in this state. Not that I want anything from Sonic, or that that's in any way relevant, but my non-existent point stands: you may as well advertise a mirage of a bikini-clad supermodel who exhales oxygen and shits rainbow sundaes.

What would the context, subtext, and plain old text of a commerical have to be to appeal to a child who's lost both parents to civil war and famine? Can you answer that, marketing bitch? I'll answer it for you. Perhaps the subtext could be global apathy, just to give him that little extra "We don't give a deep-fried fuck about you, person from far away." And I think he'll be able to identify with the context of a Maybelline commercial; only instead of a model flaunting mascara for thicker eyelashes, feature an orphan with a tumor for a thinner lifespan - "Maybe he's born with it. Maybe it's drinking polluted water." Not an easy sell, that one. On the other hand, even without marketing, anti-depressants should sell like hotcakes. Actually, what about hotcakes? If only fading hope were a currency, Darfur would be up to its soon-to-be-fat-ass in hotcakes.

The reality is that you're wasting your lives, comm. majors. More so than the rest of us. You could've studied medicine, or social work, or anything, but you didn't. You're not even educating people on the products you so desperately encourage them to buy. You just want them to spend their hard earned money on the highly overrated products you endorse. For that, everytime there's a commercial break, I'll wish you contract a hyper-resilient strain of superherpes, which, according to you, is not so bad - you get to go horseback riding on the beach, and ride jet skis with your loved one, and all kinds of romantic clichés.

Currently listening : The Sun And The Moon By The Bravery Release date: 22 May, 2007

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BIRTHDAY LIST

Erstwhile, a false prognosis by a hack doctor saved my life. Sure, young as I were, I certainly did not like being called "Ben Ninetumor," especially in his atrocious foreign accent, but that bought me the time I needed. And before my mom could say "post-third trimester abortion," I had already made my impossible escape out of the birth canal, wearing a black belt and a cape. It was a glorious day, it was July 16th... it was my birthday.

I had taken my parents and the world by complete surprise. The events of that day were stricken from official records, and people's minds. An official birth certificate was issued nearly two months later, dated September 13.

Every year when I celebrate my escape, I realize that I've not allowed many to really get to know me, or at least know what I like. There are few things more disheartening than seeing friends and family desperately resorting to last-minute presents made of elbow macaroni and tears just to show they care. Or worse, buying me costly emotionally vapid gifts from Spencer's or Brookestone's. I mean, c'mon, how many pirate ship alarm clocks, and light-up fiberglass dildo/food processor/cup-holders does one man need?

This year, I've decided to refrain from acquiring some things I really, really want so I can help by putting together a little list for my loved ones to refer to. I hope it helps, and that somebody actually reads it.

THINGS I REALLY, REALLY WANT FOR MY BIRTHDAY

A pirate ship alarm clock that plays "Yo Ho Ho, And A Bottle Of Rum" for the alarm, and sounds a salty "Yarrrr" when I press the Snooze button

Baby blue Abercrombie & Fitch Moose boxers

Vintage Schlitz Malt Liquor T-shirt(Please, NO t-shirts - they look ridiculous)

Adam West

SOME SORT OF BUTTON THAT ALLOWS ME TO TYPE IN ALL-CAPS LIKE A RETARD... NEVERMIND

The Homestar Runner Poster I saw on The Sarah Silverman Program

A panda that does not belong to David Bowie

A cleaning product endorsed by Billy Mays that's capable of getting hooker blood out of upholstery

A new cape

All-Teflon® Ninja regalia

A friend

A real list

Love

Currently listening : Hello Nasty By Beastie Boys Release date: 14 July, 1998

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BEARD WATCH

Exciting news! As some of you know, I've been growing a beard for several days now, and today, as my beard has made a quiet but dignifying transition from "Up All Night Solving a Murder" beard to "Amateur Pirate, first class" beard, I've finally reached a decision regarding what should become of it. A few minutes ago I purchased my first beard and mustache trimmer!

A trimmer as opposed to a shaver is the key distinction here. The reason I've gone with the former rather than the latter was that I've grown fond of my beard - it's like I've turned a part of me into a pilose, unnaturally quiet pet. Moreover, it carries the same presentation quality as the front lawn of a house. The longer and more au naturel it is, the lazier its inhabitants seem to the ever judging eyes of the public. But to make it more aesthetically pleasing and presentable, landscapers simply mow the lawn, making it shorter, not scorch the earth. It seems to me that a clean shave is a form of denial, anyway. We're men, not boys. Prepubescence was fantastic for me, and I wouldn't have traded it for anything then. However, shedding the skin of a boy, and donning the hirsute skin of a man, in order to enjoy an occasional orgasm while having the option to look like a sweet-faced boy with a pedophile-repelling physique seems like a fair trade.

In addition, I've noticed that the history of humanity is a collection of the stories of men with facial hair. I mean, Jesus(exclamation), have you heard of Jesus(person)? Robert E. Lee? Abraham Lincoln? William Howard Taft? Barbe Noire Le Pirate? Well, of course you have. Even a bearded lady gets a level of notoriety, and in some cases an adventurous career. And I'm sure you know who Wilford Brimley is, and that you know about his "diabetus."  On the other hand, I wouldn't expect you to know anyone without facial hair. However, to name one, how about Richard Nixon? No facial hair, but was he or was he not a crook? I'm just going to rest my case right here.
[Star Wars fans: You may replace "Jesus" with "Obi-wan," and "Crook" with "Sith Lord," and the paragraph will be to the same effect but with more pandering.]

Sadly, there is a dark side(Hello again, Star Wars fans) to having facial hair. Leave it unchecked and it'll grow into an intimidatingly wild mane, but grooming it excessively will make you look creepy, or worse: effeminate and creepy. Disturbingly, a mustache can, in fact, make you look feminine if it's too manicured. That sort of mustache makes it quite challenging to say virtually any word in any language without sounding like a dirty rasping sleazebag - the kind of guy who'd slip a girl a mickey and have his way with her unconscious body, and/or inexplicably keeps duct tape and rope in the trunk of his car.

In conclusion, you should always start your last paragraph with "In conclusion." It saves you time that you would have otherwise wasted trying to be clever or on point. That certainly makes it easier for you to drive whatever the devil you were talking about home with a very weak non sequitur; such is the art of the five-paragraph essay. Nevertheless, there is an idea here. But if there's a moral you should take away from all of the aforesaid, it is simply this: By saying "Exciting news," you're setting people up for a colossal disappointment.

Currently listening : Lights Out By Sugarcult Release date: 12 September, 2006

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STANDARDIZED TESTING

As far as standardized tests, I did not find the SATs racially discriminatory, but I'm really starting to believe that those pregnancy tests are obscenely sex biased.

Currently listening : Demon Days By Gorillaz Release date: 24 May, 2005

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BRIDGE

A guy like me has absolutely no use for neither advice nor clever analogies, so I pass them on to you, and you, in turn, learn something. It's like the television series Kung Fu, starring David Carradine. Except, really not.

Casually flirting with a girl while you're in a relationship with another is a lot like walking the rail of a bridge. If you're in a good, comfortable relationship, the girl you're with will see you walking the rail and think, "Look at that rascal, always making things exciting." And if she really cares about you, she'll know what to say to you to get you down from there, and then playfully whisper in your ear "Don't scare me like that again." However, if she's too attached to you, she'll panic, and rush to pull you off of the rail, and accidentally push you off. And if she doesn't care, you'll just end up jumping off on your own.

Note: Jumping off of a non-metaphorical bridge is considered suicide, and it's frowned upon by parents, teachers, and religious dieties alike. And come on, guys-who-still-commit-suicide-by-jumping-off-of-bridges, there are so many other ways - patience, for example.

Currently listening : Hanabi By Ikimonogakari Release date: 06 June, 2006

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VENUS & MARS

To live a happier life with the opposite sex, we need to treat each other with respect, decency, and equality. But most of all, we need to understand and even embrace the fact that we are different, and unique, each in our own way. Conversely, we unrelentingly try to change one another into what we percieve as "better." I've noticed that girls tend to do that more. In a relationship, girls never simply throw in the towel. Instead, they change everything about the guys they're dating; their opinions, habits, and even what they wear and how they wear it.

There I was, listening to Eazy-E on my iPod, when she sharply said to me "You're wearing that inside out." Her acerbic tone was scathing at best, but nevertheless, I managed to calmly reply, "That's how I wear it." She insisted, "It's inside out, take it off." And to that I said, "I'll wear it any way I want." She twisted her face in an expression of disapproval, and looked away from me; and at that point I just stopped having sex with her, took the earphones out of my ears, pulled the condom off, and left the room.

Why does it have to be ribbed for her pleasure, anyway?

Currently listening : Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret By Soft Cell Release date: 06 June, 1996

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CHENEY

Dear Alex,

We're already three months deep in the year 2007, yet the last time I've heard a sexual euphemism that was both new and exciting was back when gonohrrea was dubbed "The clap" circa 1587. Like myself, you seem both sexually active politically involved - can you come up with a term would appeal to the likes of you and I?

SMOOCHES EVERYWHERE,

Madeleine Albright(?)

 * * * *

Dear MA(?),

Sex, politics, and gonorrhea- anyone familiar with the Clinton administration would not think those terms too disperete. Personally, I really think that "Dick Cheney" is going to catch on as a sexual euphemism before the next presidential elections. The reason I think so is not because of the already incorporated, "Dick," right there in the name - that's too obvious. The man's actions speak louder than dicks. An example of its' usage would be, "On our last hunting trip, my girlfriend was blowing me, and I totally Dick Cheney'd her." That works especially unwell if you ejaculate sharp metal shards that bear the unmistakable scent of gunpowder.

Czech Mate,

Alex

PS: Excellent grammar, you cougar.

Currently listening : Let’s Get It on By Marvin Gaye Release date: 14 January, 2003

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HAIRCUT

THINGS YOU'LL NEED TO GIVE YOURSELF A HAIRCUT:

A pair of scissors.
A mirror.
A shitload of indifference.

8:03 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

SPOON

If I had to pick a favorite thing about adulthood, it definitely wouldn't be having to have an opinion on everything, or losing sight of my dream to become an astronaut, and the first astronaut to play in the World Cup; and especially not living up to the illusory bar of success born of society's hubristic notion of immortality, and contrasting innate insecurity. My favorite thing about it is spooning. It goes by many names: cuddling, snuggling, snoogling, and prison rape - slight variations, but all essentially the same.

Spooning is not only one of my favorite things about being an adult, but one of the best things about being in a relationship, and life - period. There's a certain comfort in finding your soul's conterpoint in another, and falling asleep in the loving embrace of that person. However, as many of you know, while you sleep, your increasingly flabbish body still does a lot of things subconsciously. Some of us sleepwalk, and if you're like me, you sleepsing. Things that were once considered harmless, and perhaps even cute, until you've found a bedmate.

I guess that's my main hindrance to being in a relationship, besides having ridiculous standards, and "intimacy issues." Sleeping in the same bed, there is always the risk that she'll wave a clinched fist in a way that may not be very considerate to my face. There is no way I can prepare for that, or really blame her for it. But I, being a vindictive jerk, will "accidentally" punch her in her face and shrug off blame by pretending to also be asleep. Don't get me wrong, I care for her, probably, but she needs to know not to do that. Today's punch is tomorrow's kick in the groin, and next week's stabbing injury. Speaking of which, I'll never understand why she insists on bringing a knife to bed - It's called, "spooning," not "knifing." And even if it was, you don't bring a spoon for spooning. Why do I always fall for tards?

The next morning, in the most loving manner, I'll ask her about the black eye, and my gall will be enough set her off, and it will be the argument to end all arguments. She'll call me an "insensitive douche," and out of hurt I'll loudly retort "You need a douche." She'll ask me what I'd meant by that, and the verbal malice will continue with me telling her that her bergina smells like a mass grave for aborted fetuses, and before she even asks me how I know what that smells like, she'd have called HER mother using MY telephone. The nerve of some people. And then she won't stop yelling at me for typing this while we should be yelling at each other.

More on that as it develops.

Currently listening : A Fever You Can't Sweat Out By Panic! At The Disco Release date: 27 September, 2005

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