Today I was cleaning out my work computer when I found a letter than I authored to the 7/11 corporate HQ back in October. I’m just going to leave the letter in its entirety here. PS – this letter is now in the mail to 7/11. It’s a good thing I’m looking out for the dietary health of America.
Click “more” for, well, more.
I recently joined the cult of the iPhone when my trusty old Palm Pre became, well, not so trusty. You know what that means: download ALL the apps! I regularly browse the top 25 apps on the Apple store (free, obviously, because I’m a cheapskate). The other day I stumbled upon a gem called Girl Story. When I read the description, I simply couldn’t resist:
Do work, shop in the mall, dress yourself up and flirt with hot guys in the club! And you can get a boyfriend, kiss him, dress him and request gift from him!
Based on that, it’s either glorified prostitution or a video game version of Clueless. I love Clueless! Cher was a total Betty. With matching ensembles and feathery-topped pens in my mind, I downloaded Girl Story.
Oh, wrong. It’s total prostitution. The background music even sounds like the soundtrack to a Joe Francis project. The entire premise is that you make money by “working” (some scattershot modeling, apparently—i’m willing to bet it’s of the pornographic variety) and accosting guys at bars:
The bars are largely named things like “Green Buffaloes” and “Hot Wind” and the only drinks they offer are beer, “cocktail,” and whiskey. What a ripoff! In order to even hit on these guys, you have to wear “night” clothes. By some streak of luck–I’m betting it was my character’s Katy Perry-esque purple shag–I snagged a boyfriend the first time I tried. His name was Alfred and he was a bricklayer and we only had to chat for 5 seconds before he waxed poetic to me constantly. However, I found myself wanting to move up the food chain, as Alfred was a needy bitch who always asked for my kisses but refused to give me a present after a whole hour of dating. RUDE. However, other options were hard to come by when you can only wear level 1 “going out” clothes:
I was heartbroken. Then I realized that my character was low on energy. Oh no! What to do?! I immediately whisked her off to the grocery store, which seems to be a Real Housewife of Iphoneland County’s pantry:
Chocophobic? Hate beverages? Never fear. Your character has somehow achieved every supermodel’s dream–her energy magically repletes over time WITHOUT food!
You may have noticed the star counter beside the Magical Donut Energy Indicator. What is that mysterious ticker? Why, that’s your confidence counter. How does one increase their confidence? By making your character read and fully understand the works of Kafka! Oh, just kidding:
That’s essentially all there is to this game. We are teaching our children excellent morals, aren’t we? Poor nutrition, superficiality, shopping, and porn: AMERICA! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some bigger fish to fry:
Yesterday, it was Memorial Day–a perfect reason to partake in libations. My neighbor, his brother, and I decide to play Kings while drinking 40s because we’re incredibly classy. Please, try not to be jealous. Eventually, after about three turns, we decided that Kings, with its incredibly boring rules, is just not extreme enough. “Five is guys?” Please. “Ten is categories?” Psh. I frown in your general direction. No, we decided that Kings needs more obscenities, degradation, and potential injuries. For your enjoyment, I present the way we now play Kings in 1016: Kings XTREME VERSION.
Was: “Two is you.”
Now: “Two is shoe.” Each person takes their shoe off and literally throws it at a wall. Why? Why NOT? This also makes the other rules funnier because, hey, you’re missing a shoe or two.
Was: “Three is me.”
Now: “Three is Smee/Smeagol.” You either become Smee from Hook (i.e. you become everyone’s bitch, but those that command you about have to do so in a pirate voice) or Smeagol from Lord of the Rings (you cradle your drink and mumble to yourself while sketchily imbibing) until someone else draws a three.
Was: “Four is touch the floor.”
Now: The new rule for this has yet to be decided.
Was: “Five is guys.”
Now: You have to sing and dance to a song with a title that rhymes with five–”Stayin’ Alive” or “I Will Survive,” for example.
Was: “Six is chicks.”
Now: Another rule up for grabs. I’m thinking six should be for sticks, where everyone just pokes each other with sticks until someone cries.
Was: “Seven is heaven.”
Now: Everyone still puts their hand up, but it has to be the hand you’re drinking with. If you forget, spill, or are the last person with their hand up, you drink.
Was: “Pick a mate.”
Now: Eight is for berate. Whoever drew the card literally picks someone else that’s playing and yells profusely at them while they drink until someone laughs (or cries).
Was: “Bust a rhyme.”
Now: You still bust a line, but it has to be linear. The rhyming session has to tell a story that makes sense. If you fail to continue the storyline or don’t rhyme, you drink.
Now: Go outside, preferably on a roof, and shout nonsensical, curse-laden sentences as loud as you can. Whoever has the lamest declaration has to drink.
Was: “Never have I ever.”
Now: DANCEOFF!!!!!!!!!!!!! This can be between two persons or all the parties involved.
Now: This should be Quotations. You pick something and quote the living hell out of it. WHILE JOUSTING. Whoever loses the joust or fails to quote is
fatally stabbed has to drink.
Was: “Make a rule.”
Now: Everyone slides across the floor in their socked feet. Whoever goes the farthest is exempt from drinking. Everyone else chugs. What’s that, you say? This only works on hardwood or tile floors? Um, I don’t care. You make this rule work. This rule was inspired by a rousing game of Kings played in New Orleans when the water supply for the city was tainted and we had literally nothing safe to drink but beer.
Now: Still waterfall. I mean, alcohol poisoning has always been a possibility with this rule, so it’s A-OK for Xtreme Kings.
Let me start by saying that the entire NCAA journey has been quite an experience. I’ve never seen a school go from vaguely apathetic hipsterdom to positively drunk with school spirit (and PBR) in such a short amount of time. My entire Facebook and Twitter feeds have been clogged with Ram support for almost two weeks now, mainly from Mr. Jeff Green:
Not all of the Internet has smiled upon the Rams: this article marks the first time I’ve ever disagreed with The Onion about anything. Ever. However, the good outweighs the bad by far. For example, what do you get when you mix VCU’s basketball team with tasty food and epic situations? Ramblood. Ramblood may actually surpass Paula Deen Riding Things on my list of favorite meme blogs ever. An example: Joey Rodriguez and Obama fist pumping in a lightning storm. Why not?
Unfortunately, VCU’s streak of epic winning came to a screeching halt last night. After making it to the Final Four and sufficiently screwing up everybody’s game brackets, VCU lost to Butler University, the nation’s top academy for manservant training–a completely unfair game, since Butler somehow snuck Mark Zuckerberg onto their team under the pseudonym “Matt Howard.” Because of this loss, Richmond was (literally) in flames. This Facebook post sufficiently sums up the situation in Richmond last night:
You read correctly–tear gas. My friends and I were fortunate enough to be caught in the thick of it. It appears that springtime riots are becoming a tradition in my life. After all, nearly a year ago, I was caught in the maelstrom of the JMU Springfest Rage Riots.
Of course, there’s about 500 videos on Youtube proving that Richmond took the loss more riot-ly than quietly:
The riot, tear gas and all, was actually my favorite part of the entire tournament. Nothing brings a city together like a collective sense of disappointment, outrage, and love for the name Shaka. New bonds were formed as we stormed the streets, screaming obscenities regarding Butler and their mothers to anyone who would listen. And of course there were riot cops. Really rude ones, by the way. One special man was holding his riot shield upside down, reducing how seriously anyone took him by at least 57%. We tried very politely to inform him of this error and he was completely unresponsive, much like a Buckingham Palace guard (but with a less baller uniform). Here’s my friend Marianne posing with the illiterate fool:
Some say that the adventure is over, but I disagree. I think this is just the beginning of great things for VCU. With a coach named Shaka Smart, how can we go wrong?
Also…our football team is still undefeated.
Close me out, Joey Rodriguez: