Great news LGBT community! In light of Justice Barret being appointed to the Supreme Court, I’m making a list of all the fun things we can buy instead of paying for a wedding. So, instead of dropping 30 grand on a wedding, you can now afford:
Clowns have a rich history in the Pittsburgh area, they go back many generations as seen in the balloon family trees they make after asexually reproducing.
Drink: “Honk my Horn if you know what i mean”
Fruit punch, Vegan Bailey’s Irish almond milk creamer, 1 lollipop (on top, similar to a cherry)
The Witchtok community represents a broad spectrum of witches of all kinds, by sharing videos of witch tips, potions, weird peace offerings they leave in the garden for the nymphs, and reading each other’s tarot fortunes to give sad witches some encouragement
Drink: “The Bubble, Bubble, Toil, and Trouble”
A blend of herbal teas with hints of chamomile and rose, some of the stuff from my garden that I didn’t actually plant it just kinda grew, and edible glitter, all stewed in a cauldron (pot) while we chant in Parseltongue
Arbor Day Enthusiasts
Anyone can be an Arbor Day Enthusiast, but not just anyone can be an Arbor Day Enthusiast, if you catch my drift. The community is often split into two factions: those who enjoy celebrating Arbor Day with a barbecue and a game of cornhole and those who are active participants in yearly Arbor Day revolutions worldwide in which they overthrow authoritarian regimes and replace them with a government run by trees. These two factions do not get along (even (especially) on Arbor Day).
Drink: “Committing Treeson”
Maple syrup, sawdust, blanched ginkgo leaves, some wood chips if you’re feeling frisky
The fuckheads, i mean anti-maskers, are a group of people who believe that masks are dummy dumb dumb and they shouldnt be worn because they dont work and kill brain cells. We collectively have two brain cells and are not about to risk losing the rest. Plus, if Trump survived COVID, then we can, too.
Bleach jello shots from coronavirus shaped molds
Children of the Corn
They shuck all day and shuck all night. They shuck when they’re happy and they shuck when they’re sad. They shuck like animals. They love corn and they just don’t care who knows it. Is that what the movie’s about? I think it is.
Drink: “Maybe I’m A-Maize-d”
Corn right off the cob, corn that’s been off the cob for a day or two, high fructose corn syrup, cornmeal, cornflour, a few corny jokes, a unicorn, General Cornwallis, candy corn, corn ethanol, etc.
A community of students and faculty alike, centering their time around the livelihood of the city. The Oakland community consists mostly of Pitt students and other universities’ students who come to the Pitt campus to study. We pride ourselves on our dedication to leaving garbage in the streets whenever possible, which includes but is not limited to: five guys fries we dropped for the birds, cigarette butts, any bag, empty dab carts, and Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond.
Drink: “The Oakland Token”
Five Guys fries we dropped for the birds, cigarette butts, any bag, empty dab carts, and Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond
Nursing Students That Used To Bully Me In High School
The popular kids in school who bullied or outright ignored me are now training to be in charge of people’s survival. They would’ve failed high school chemistry if not for the participation grade, and now they wonder why they’re failing OChem. Hallmarks include messy buns, Lululemon pants, hydroflasks, and the inability to empathize with people outside of their suburban clique! I trust them with my life!
Drink: “The Nursing Dose”
Starbucks Double Shot, mixed with 10 ccs of blood; stat, and the tears of children. Mix for 10 seconds in your mom’s food processor. Add protein bar chunks, stickers that say “it’s a beautiful day to save lives”, and seventeen episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. Complain about early clinicals. Be stuck in one profession for the rest of your life.
The people that are REALLY into monkeys *wink*
Drink:”The Monkey’s Crotch”
16 Fleas, 2 oz of Coconut Cream, 3 oz Pineapple Juice, A Whole Lot of Disapproval From One’s Parents, a Splash of Water, .75 oz of Fresh Lime Juice, 3 dashes of a Cease and Desist from the Local Zoo, and a pinch of salty tears that God didn’t make you a monkey
Instructions: In a blender, combine all the ingredients until smooth. Then pour into a glass before you cry yourself to sleep after realizing you’ve been on permanent house arrest after THAT incident you pulled with monkeys from the local zoo…. Rumor says that those monkeys never looked at people the same way.
They have long lived in the sewers under oakland and have developed their own culture, they often ask other residents to come play with them in the sewers and then eat the students and blame it on Covid-19
Drink: “Honey I Murdered the Kids”
Oh the places you’ll go (Dr. Seuss book), any photograph you have from college, gatorade(red to represent the blood spilt in the sewers)
The pigeons that live in my house
These Pigeons will not leave
Drink: “Just Rat Poison”
Rat poison with a hint of lime, Rat poison restaurant style, rat poison scoops, salt and vinegar rat poison; you can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. There’s uh, rat poison-kabobs, rat poison creole, rat poison gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried rat poison. There’s pineapple rat poison, lemon rat poison, coconut rat poison, pepper rat poison, rat poison soup, rat poison stew, rat poison salad, rat poison and potatoes, rat poison burger, rat poison sandwich, sour cream and onion rat poison
The giga-chads you see strutting around the inside of the Baierl Student Recreation Center like they own the place. Which, I mean, they do. If they ask me if I’m using something you best believe I’m saying “nope, my bad.” This drink represents everything about the weightlifting community, including but not limited to: shitty cutoffs made from free Pitt t-shirts, skipping leg day, a supply-chain major, and spending Saturdays with the boys.
Drink: “Get Swole or Die Trying”
70g whey protein powder (chocolate flavor), 14 lq oz human sweat, a dash of methamphetamine, peanut butter, 1.2 gal blue powerade run through a Brita filter. All contained in a BlenderBottle, obviously.
Many people in Squirrel Hill are Jewish, some are not, but one thing everyone from Squirrel Hill loves is Manischewitz wine, but since we cant have that due to alcohol content, we will have Kedem’s grape juice
Drink: “do I really need to put a name in this box, I literally said it was just Kedem’s grape juice, oh, it is copying down whatever i say, alexa stop, siri off, google home leave me alone, beam me up scotty, if i hit the enter key maybe it will stop”
Kedem’s grape juice, like just that in a glass, it tastes great
Real and fake facts about Alcohol safety mixed together like a quality cocktail (shaken not stirred, what is this the 1800’s no cocktails are stirred nowadays)
It is unsafe to drink and drive
Putting little umbrellas in your fruity drinks makes them taste better
Making jokes about consent is funny
Pong is a game played at many ceo events
all white house staff must carry narcan, it does not help with alcohol, it is just good for all the “diet” coke (just cocaine) the president does (do not use narcan if someone is overdosing from cocaine, it will send them into cardiac arrest, narcan is safe for use on those overdosing on opioids)
If you drink more, you’ll be happy
It is unsafe to drink and drive
I’m a fruity drink ;)
One sip of beer will steal your virginity, your childhood memories, and your youthful essence
I have once again gotten myself into a pickle, not literally this time. My neighbors wanted to test out their new security system, so they asked me to steal some of their lawn ornaments. I was on board immediately and began planning my expert heist. I arrive at their house (like a minute after I leave my house, you know neighbors and all) and I set my sights on my targets, the ornaments.
There is an assortment of ornaments. There is a peacock where the tail and body spin independently of each other. There is one that is topped with an orb, that I am certain is just a wizard staff half buried in the ground. There is a very rusted sun flower. The last one is a stained-glass picture of 2 butterflies on a stick.
I look for defenses and more importantly flaws in the defenses. I do not notice anything stopping me from stealing the ornaments. So, I walk up and pick the orb and peacock up. I walk back to my house and hide them in my garage. I go back and get the other 2 ornaments and hide them in my garage. As with all crimes I commit, I desire recognition so I go back to the scene of the crime and contemplate stealing their potted plants but decide against it.
A few hours later my neighbors asked where their lawn ornaments went. I informed them that I stole them as they had requested to which they replied that they had not yet installed their new security system and had been at a funeral while I was stealing their ornaments. They asked me to return them but I said no because I put some effort into planning my heist. I was planning on doing a number of flips and rolls through the laser field I pictured. I brought multiple bandanas which I planned to use as weapons. Most importantly I had a getaway driver which I never used, now I have to apologize to my mom for not using her help in yet another criminal act. I will keep you, my readers, up to date on my escapades in nefarious activities.
Author’s Note: This article was written long ago, based on an alternative timeline in which the author still felt happiness. When the sun still rose in the morning, the birds sang their cheerful songs, when Pitt didn’t absolutely blow it against NC State, and bungle it against Boston goddamn College. Football only serves as a chilling reminder that nothing will change, nobody loves you, and it doesn’t get better, so don’t get your hopes up. Until next Saturday.
That’s right, nerds. Close that textbook. Put away that laptop. It’s time to watch our lads sling some pigskin and slam a bunch of losers into the dirt. What do you mean there’s a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic going on? Shut up, it’s football season.
Unless you’re actually dumb, then you know that our Pitt Panthers opened up the 2020 season with absolutely dominating victories over a bunch of posers that call themselves the Austin Peay State University “Governors,” and a basket of oranges hailing from Syracuse. Who knew you could grow citrus in upstate New York? Anyway, if you know anything about the greatest sport in America, you could probably deduce that this means that Pitt is once again the best team in the nation (Don’t @ me, Clemson. See you on November 28th). But for Pitt and their head coach, Pat “The Thunder of Southern Connecticut” Narduzzi, with great power rankings comes great responsibility. The Panthers have an obligation, a moral imperative, to enlighten the mass media and give some insider information on just how the Panthers have gotten off to such a hot start. However, despite the onslaught of reporters foaming at the mouth, begging for an iota of detail behind the team’s victories, none have been successful at getting the coaching staff to spill the beans. It was time to bring in the big guns, the A-team, the best detective that upper campus has to offer: me.
With help from my god complex and the motivation from my self-condemned Sisyphean struggle to try and inform the stupid common man, I was able to call in a few favors, whip up a little blackmail, and break into Heinz Field by disguising myself as a ketchup bottle in order to get a one-on-one interview with the man, the myth, the legend himself, Patrick Regan Narduzzi. While you might have expected someone to be surprised or scared by a walking, talking, stalking, popping, and locking tomato sauce container approaching you and screaming out of excitement, Narduzzi paid no attention to my presence. The man’s a stoic. His eyes were glued to a screen playing the entirety of Louisville’s offensive film at 139x speed, faster than any normal human could comprehend. That’s when I knew I had something special to report, and I had to go deeper than simple observation. It took a super-secret Pentagon safe word used to bring government agents out of their natural brain-washed state, ‘Linguini,’ to awaken the coach from his game-day preparation hibernation.
Narduzzi’s head snapped toward me with the incredible speed of someone snapping their head towards someone at an alarmingly fast rate. His eyes began to glow, a haunting shade of Pitt Royal™, HEX #003594.
A voice from deep within the Allegheny mountains rumbled to life and spoke from the language of the ancient gods, blasting directly into my temporal lobe: “Quid est bonum, fratrem?”
“W-Well, your Duzziness,” I stuttered, trying and failing to maintain my composure and credibility in the face of greatness. “I have come before you to beg, to plead for a scoop. How have the Panthers grown into the greatest football team in football history, in such a short amount of football time? What’s the football secret- a new formation, a trick play, a UPMC-developed football steroid?”
“Do not fear, my child. I was but a curious mortal once, as well. I will give you the answers you seek… for a price,” the coach said, a sly grin creeping across his face.
“But of course, your Duzziness. Hell, I’d give an arm and a leg to learn the process behind the best football team in the wo-”
I woke up in UPMC Presbyterian 4 days and 12 hours later, missing two of my most trusted and loved appendages. Sorry if the helicopter woke you up again, that was probably me. As my mind repaired itself from my encounter with such a powerful figure, I felt an object materialize in my pocket out of thin air. I reached down with my remaining arm and retrieved a note, a message from Patrick Narduzzi himself. Written with the blood of a Nittany lion (whatever that is), on ancient parchment made of the skin of a Mountaineer, the memorandum spoke thus:
Victory is not found in singular glory, or modern scheme
To win, one must score more points than the opposing team.
My hippocampus began to shake, collapsing in on itself from the weight of pure godly knowledge that had just made its way into my brain. Every kind of doctor you can think of rushed into the room to try and save my life. An epinephrine injection directly into the brain stem, a defibrillator, and fourteen kinds of essential oils attempted to keep my very soul in its flesh casing, but all of them failed.
I write this account to you, dear reader, from the world beyond. I trust you with this message, and that you will use it to do good in the world. Just know that when January rolls around and Pitt is playoff-bound, the famed “Kenny Heisman” theorem of scoring more points than the other team, developed by Coach Narduzzi, and whatever Lovecraftian Yinzer lord lies within him, is what brought them there. Hail to Pitt.
Before I tell you about my experience in Heck, I should probably tell you how I died. I was running around in one of those revolving doors, forcing people to go through the much less fun normal door, I was then decapitated while trying to leave the door, the door was spinning so fast that my head was just gone. I appear inside a room and an attendant puts lotion of my hands and feet. I am then told that I must go to the reception area for processing. This was immediately a difficult task as to do that I needed to open a door, and I could not stop sliding around the room. The lotion smelled really nice so I decided to lick my fingers which gave me a great idea, I could open the door with my mouth. I put my mouth around the handle and the door immediately flies open sending me sledding across the floor. The man in the doorway tells me to follow him. I follow him down many twisting and turning halls with him talking at a volume I could hear but not quite make out everything he said. At many points I lost him only to find myself walking down the wrong hallway and falling down a random pit. I must then climb the long stair case where each step is a different height, this really killed my ankles, get it because I am dead, eh. You living folks will get it when you are dead.
Finally, I find him and am escorted into a reception room. This room is filled with many buttons. None of the buttons have labels so I begin pressing random buttons. The buttons I pressed did these to me: had a group of people run out and lightly brush my face with feathers, had someone play twinkle twinkle little star on my teeth, someone come to give me a hug but it lasted a few seconds too long and he was really sweaty, someone walked near me with a chinchilla and every time I tried to pet it they would pull it slightly farther away. Finally, I pressed a button that brought out a lady who introduced herself as the receptionist. I asked where I was and she said Heck, an eternity of small inconveniences. I thought of myself as a good person but I guess I inconvenienced a lot of people in my life. She tells me that I am all checked in and that I am free to leave the reception room and go find lunch.
I leave the room and after getting lost for a mildly inconvenient amount of time I find the elevators. I was expecting them to be empty but when one arrived it was almost full, there was one spot left. I get in and as the elevator is descending, I realize that everyone else in here has not showered in months. I turn and talk to one of the people to ask them why they are all in here and why they smell bad, yes I am a blunt person, all of the people in the elevator say in unison “We never leave, we never clean ourselves, we make all elevator rides inconvenient”. The elevator then got stuck for 30 minutes. The elevator does not have numbers on their buttons so you would press random floors just hoping it took you where you were looking to go. Once I get to the floor I was searching for, I go and get myself a burrito bowl from Chipotle but they are always out of a random ingredient, so just normal Chipotle. I order what I ordered while I was alive, but when I go to pay, the credit card machine is broken so I pay in cash, I have just enough to pay for it and tip 10% in my pocket. I eat the food but I find a hair in it, I go up to the customer service desk to complain about this.
I get to the desk and the woman at the desk screams at me for wasting her time. She then starts to talk about how she knows corporate and demands to speak to my manager. I finally get a word in and complain about there being hair in my food and this woman smacks me in the face and then punches herself in the stomach and starts screaming that I hit her, so I decide that this is a lost cause, I ate a lot of cat hair in my life so eating a bit of mystery hair in my afterlife is not the biggest of deals. As I am walking away from the desk someone hits me on the back of the head with an empty wrapping paper tube. I ask why, and this guy replies, “Whenever your sibling thinks of you someone will come up behind you and hit you on the head with an empty wrapping paper tube, as I have just done”. Right once he finishes saying this, I get hit on the head again, I have 20 siblings, lucky for me it does not hurt that much it is just more a mild annoyance, just like having a sibling.
Right then I stumble into an alley that is full of people asking me to sign their petitions, I start signing some of them and on one of them I write the date wrong, I go to erase it but the eraser bits stick to the paper and you can tell that I wrote I wrong the first time because it does not erase fully. I then get a notification on my phone that my job has been changed and will be changed every day. I question this because in life I never had a real job, I would just go to a business for a week, reorganize their computer systems and cabinets, then leave without telling anyone where they can find their stuff in the new systems and cabinets. It tells me that today I get to mow a lawn, I am allergic to mown grass so I will be sneezing for a week after today. The map on my phone shows me that I am a 20-minute walk away from the lawn I am meant to mown, and I need to be there in 15 minutes. Right then the path I must take to get to my job is filled with people, not enough to stop me from getting there, just enough that it will be harder for me to get there on time.
When I get to my job, 35 minutes late, I go to shake my boss’s hand and he begins to do the worm. Once he notices that I am attempting to shake his hand he gets up and asks if the culture changed again, I ask what he means and he says that every few months the culturally accepted greetings and other culturally accepted practices are changed, and no one will tell you what they have been changed to, so sometimes you come off looking rude. He then tells me to mow the lawn. Once I am done mowing, I decide to go to a rooftop pool. I get into a swimsuit and jump in. quickly I realize that parts of the pool are salt water and parts are chlorine, I am very confused as to how this works but more bothered by the fact that different parts of the pool are wildly different temperatures.
Once I am done, I get directions to my apartment. It takes me an hour to get there. Once I get there I reach into my pocket and find a ring of keys, and the 15th key I try opens the door. Right as the door opens, some cats jump into my arms. Right when I think that this may be a nice place to be, the cats jump off of me leaving my entire body coated with hair. I walk in and find that I have a dryer full of clothes, I take the clothes out and as I am walking back to my bed to fold the clothes, I drop a sock onto the dirty floor. I pick it up and decide that I should wash it again so I put it into a different basket. I notice that this sock has a hole in it, I look through my other socks and I notice that all of them have holes in different places, many of them will cause some of my toes to be out of my sock. I knew that this could be a bit annoying because I have to walk up hill everywhere I go. Right then I get a message telling me that tomorrow my job is stapling individual pieces of very sticky paper.
I change into my pajamas, freshly clean and folded and go to brush my teeth, while I am brushing my teeth water is constantly dripping down my arms, because of this I wash my hands. I pull up my sleeves so they do not get wet but the second I turn on the water my sleeves fall back down and get soaked. There is a knock on the door, I open it and get hit on the head by an empty wrapping paper tube, again. I go back inside and decide I should watch some Netflix. I go to search for a show I like but every key I press types a different letter or symbol, it takes me a long time to find the show I want to watch. After a bit of buffering because the wifi is slow I watch an episode. The next episode starts after a bit of buffering but it is not the next episode in the show, it is a random episode of the show. I try to find a way to watch the episodes in order but all shows autoplay their episodes in a random order. I look at the clock and see that it is getting pretty late so I decide to go to bed. The bed is part box spring, part memory foam, part air mattress and part water bed. It is going to be hard to fall asleep but soon enough I will and then I will wake up and live in this world of small inconveniences. This is my own personal Heck.
The final report had just come in over the wire service. Star anchorman Edward Mobley took a long drag on his cigarette. In a few moments, he’d be breaking the news to a whole city of people who tuned in to see him every night.
“Five seconds, Mr. Mobley,” said a young cameraman with curly hair that reached down to his bare nipples. Mobley looked at him with disdain. Then he extinguished his cigarette. It was time.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” As was his custom at the start of each broadcast, he lit a fresh cigarette.
“This is a somber occasion for us all. We’ve just got word that the giant ball of cum hurtling towards Earth will definitely wipe out all of humanity, probably within the hour.”
He took a long drag on the cigarette, then extinguished it, then lit another one.
“The scientists never were able to answer the questions on everyone’s mind. Where did the ball of cum originate? Whose cum is it? And so forth. Now it looks like those questions will never be answered. NASA has shuttered its doors, following the lead of the military, and the U.S. government.”
Mobley extinguished his second cigarette and lit a cigar.
“You might ask, why has everyone given up so quickly? But you know the answer. To try and evade the ball of cum would only be to prolong this long, cosmic mistake in which we’ve all taken part.”
Here he chomped on his cigar, and leaned forward in his chair paternalistically, as if he were about to warn his audience, as he often did, of the dangers of “musician drugs.”
“Dear friends, imagine a harried father, taking his family on a vacation. The quarrelling of the children, the nagging of his wife – it gets to be too much for him. He ends up driving his station wagon off a bridge. That car, about to plunge into the river, is humanity. We’ve just gotten worse and worse. We’ve been sliding closer and closer to the end for centuries now. The ball of cum has shortened our wait, and that is a tremendous gift.”
He extinguished his cigar and lit a corncob pipe.
“In just a moment, I’ll be signing off for the last time. After that, you’ll see on this station, as on every station in America until the end arrives, the Four Singing Brennans – one of those musical hippy families from San Francisco – performing their rendition of John Lennon’s ‘Imagine.’ Michael Brennan, who plays an acoustic guitar, his wife Sandy, and their two children, Yoni and Phallus, will sing ‘Imagine’ over and over again until everyone is dead. I can’t think of a better way to snuff out the human race.”
Then, the red light on the camera switched off. In the ensuing silence, Mobley extinguished his corncob pipe, and lit a huge Indian peace pipes. He dreamed of beating up hippies as he awaited death.