Sunday, May 5, 2013

NRG drinX

REAL energy for REAL people!!!

I want to know. I want to know right now, so bad, but how the heck am I gonna know all about how jacked off I'm gonna be by drinking this drink?
I want a clear cut, digestible (pun) system of advertising in the form of analogies to a car (French: l'automobile) to let me (the lay man) know all about my body.

How many freakin' horse power am I drinking right now? I want to taste the gears, or carburetors or something. And it better taste like ASS or I ain't payin'.
I have a right to feel great inside my body (human: untethered pod) every day until the day I die, so, duh (pun), guys, just put the info on the can.

"There's not enough horse power in this!"
-Old human

"This tastes like ASS! Just the way I like it"
-Old human

Let's face it, folks, we're all REAL PEOPLE here, right? Heh, heh...Jesus, just take my money already.


Lords of Johnstown

"Friendly, Safe and Clean"
-Johnstown City

What began as a brief stint in the infamous Flood City mutated and clawed its way into two Earth years of my actual (not second) life. The death grip of the Laurel Highlands brought me closer to my own mortality than would the breathtaking view atop the world's steepest vehicular inclined plane (source: Note the new hours.

While the hike up the inclined plane to the top of Mount...something (citation needed) appears to be that existential getaway you've always been looking for, don't count on the backdrop of failed industry to turn off its shitty engine for the trip: plumes of diesel exhaust, wailing sirens, and welfare fraud nip at your heels all the way to the top. During mating season, you'll literally be tripping over halfway house guys and gals having unprotected sex in the woods.

"I take two urine screens a month, girl. I swear I'm clean"
-Halfway house resident

Great, you made it to the top. Turn to page 53 to jump to your certain demise, or page 86 to collect unemployment.
No, you're too indecisive to take the manly way out, so fork over the two bucks and ride back downtown. Note the new hours.

"[something unintelligible]"
-Johnstown resident

At first glance, downtown Johnstown gives the impression of being a chief manufacturer of Hoveround(tm) Scooters who also forgot to export any.

"...bunch of Stephen Hawkings rolling around here"
Here are some quick city fun facts:
  1. Population: 20,978
  2. Welfare recipients: 20,512
  3. Erections per street corner: 1.4
  4. Median weight (in pounds): 290
  5. College degrees: 7
  6. Bus fare: $1.50 ($.30 transfer)
  7. Murders: Yes
The real class acts are the elite fighting force, the upper echelon, I dubbed the "Lords of Johnstown". These select few "bosses" suffer from ailments ranging from chronic bus-riding syndrome to ashtray miner complex to untreated schizophrenia. When you make that wrong turn down the alley to encounter a man in bulging sweat pants trying to make a collect call on an upside down cellphone without a battery, it's best to avoid eye contact. The real source of these subterraneans has never been investigated and reported anyone who lived to tell the tale.

Even the local lechers, thieves, scumbags and freaks keep to themselves and hurriedly engage in conversation about the unpredictability of the weather in the presence of the "L.o.J."

Did they arrive in the Flood? Where do they live? Are they even alive?

Truthfully, nobody will ever know the answers to these questions. All we can do is patiently wait for the next flood to wipe our memories clean. Because we are corrupted; we are decaying; we are Johnstown.

Johnstown City, Pennsylvania

"Fuck whatcha heard"
-Mayor Tom Trigona

Friday, March 8, 2013

It's a sad vacation, oh what can I say?

Hey guys, it's me, Lauren, reporting from Bushwick, New York, where I've been spending some quality time with my dear friends Jack and Shuja. Both of these comrades are in the midst of a depressive episode, so it's been an emotional roller-coaster. I can't, however, blame them for their current mental states because something about this place is relatively soul-sucking. I blame the locals, and by locals I mean twenty-somethings that have their parents pay for them to pretend they're poor in really nice apartments. Here is a list of hipster-cliches I've spotted since my arrival:

-I went to a charming little coffee place, "Little Skips," to enjoy a chai tea with Jack. Since we were both in lounge-wear, we were greeted with looks of distaste. I noticed one young man at the bar taking brief pauses from his reading of a Bukowski book to scoff at Jack's velour leisure pants (which he claims to have been wearing for four weeks straight).

-At the same coffee shop, there was a girl doing diligent liberal arts homework on an Apple (tm) laptop, and she was wearing THREE SCARVES at one time.

-There is a garage here that, from the outside, you would assume served to maintain and/or build motorcycles. I learned, though, that what this garage offers is repairs on fixed gear bikes.

- I awoke to blizzard-like conditions and on a brief stroll with Shuja, those I saw braving the weather all actually had rain-slickers and galoshes. Cool ones, of course.

-A wall-art collage.

-A girl who looked and dressed just like this:

-On a completely unrelated note, the neighbors who are semi-constantly in the midst of a very intense, and very audible verbal disagreement were having one such episode yesterday that ended in the dude being like "I'm outta here. I got my cell phone, my phone charger, and my tarot cards. I never want to see you again." He never left though.

In conclusion, Brooklyn makes Chronic Town seem like a biker-bar in the southern tip of Texas.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

ahh word im watching buffy

i want
the movie or the series?


cannot hate
i got into angel for a bit
i was a lame 9th grader

yeah angel is ok

have you watched supernatural?


Tuesday, February 12, 2013


"This shit is garbage."
- Tom Willis

UH OH. Tom got mad because 'Conversations With Connie' hit too close to home. Or maybe it was that he was not involved. In any case, we lost control of our blog because Tom hacked into it. He blocked me on Facebook for the second (third?) time shortly after that. I did some damage control. Now we don't have to worry about arbitrary parentheses, or any sorts of posts like these.

Elizabeth and I gave our blog a breath of life since it was last updated August 31, 2011. In turn, we gained plenty of positive feedback, including roughly 20 Facebook 'likes' and 300+ pageviews. We had no other choice but to start a new blog. 

Welcome readers, and always remember:

"There is nothing wrong with being glib and white"
- Emily Crossen

Conversations With Connie

Last night Paige, Carly, and Shana hosted a party and received a noise violation. But really it just looks like the cop gave up, especially when spelling Shana's last name correctly the first time, crossing it out and misspelling it.

This was not the first shocking event that involved magnetic poetry.

One party guest was worried that a bearded stranger would pull a gun out, so these chilling lines seemed very fitting:

    The next morning called for Waffle Shop. Elizabeth was driving, and she failed to turn right (**promptly after coming to a complete stop) at a red light. Shana and Elizabeth started bickering, and the idea was brought about that they were similar to the Lockhorns.

    As we pulled into the parking lot, we almost died by a frantic Waffle-Shopper in a mini-SUV. 
"Waffles do things to people" 
- Unknown

    We then realized it was Sunday. And it was the Waffle Shop. Naturally there was a line out the door. Many were seen looking bored and hungry. Shana was still drunk.

                        "OMG, is there a car in line?"
 - Shana

Denny's was decided upon after discussing the horrifying possibility of seeing your family photos displayed in Cracker Barrel. Also, Cracker Barrel sucks. But so does Denny's. Now we know this for a fact.

We waited for what seemed like hours on the padded seats in the front foyer. While sitting, we noticed and admired a heart-shaped Popeye plush pillow in the claw machine. Plans were made to attempt to extract said pillow from the machine. Men sporting khakis and fancy boat shoes were crowding the area, but the most confusing part was the sole female in the group dressed in the traditional Penn State female student garb (referred to as the "SNUGG"). 
"Yacht club?" 
- Shana

Finally we were seated. The waitress (Connie) gave us menus in a huff, and after a short wait she came back to take our drink orders.
"Coffee and water, please"
- Everyone 

Everything was going fine until Shana decided she wanted her cream "on the side", thus commencing the trying experience of being Served By Connie.  (Shana as our unspoken spokesperson, unfortunately got the brunt of her wrath and scorn.)

The notion that Shana would need to specify was laughable to Connie. She regarded the request with marked dismay.   

"Well, yeah"

- Connie

Soon-ish after, she returned heaving a overly laden tray of coffee and miniature pitchers of cream for all.  She remarked grouchily that she couldn't fit all of the beverages on one tray and would have to make two trips.  This is where things really started to get interesting.  She demanded we "participate" by passing cups of coffee and the mini-pitchers down the table.  It was clear she took us for hooligans lacking a basic understanding of the physical limitations of human arms, and an unreasonable expectation that they should stretch several extra feet.  On her huffy second trip, we got to go through the overly coached (by Coach Connie herself) "participation" activity again.  Lucky us! 

"I feel like this is a team building exercise"

- Paige

Before she left the table to be nicer to other customers, Elizabeth requested a spoon to stir her coffee (assuming our own put-upon Connie might just take some initiative and bring six). That was Elizabeth's first mistake.

Elizabeth: Could I get a spoon, please?
Connie:  Uhhmmmmm.  I'll see what I can do...

We waited for Connie to pull some strings. Shana struggled a bit with her mini-pitcher and after spilling cream asked our Connie if she could bring some napkins and silverware.  "They're rolling them now.  We ran out.  I'll bring some out with your meal."


Everyone was struck by the bizarre notion that silverware and napkins can't be given to customers separately and without being rolled.  Connie was confused.

 Inner monologue: "You'll get it when it's ready."

As if we were asking her to serve us dangerously undercooked meat.  

"I don't want a dog that's smarter than me"

- Overheard at nearby table

Then came the food, which in itself wasn't bad (though in retrospect it didn't feel good), but brought with it a slew of new offenses.  Shana's skillet was carelessly (though possibly maliciously (let's give her the benefit of the doubt this time)) tossed into her open hand, nearly falling, and potentially burning Shana and Carly (though it now seems that it may not have been heated to an appropriate temperature, and may not have burned anyone).

DEUX: Preparing for Hurricane Connie II (Coffee Refills)

As the meal progressed, our mugs grew emptier and emptier.  We soon realized that something had to be done to help our poor persecuted Connie.  Arranging our mugs at the end of the table in an effort to alleviate our server's plight, Elizabeth spearheaded the plan to circumvent her strife.  When she finally came back, we asked for coffee refills and she asked us to pass our mugs down.  Hm.  Did she really not see them? Was it because she was so engrossed in her thoughts of being misunderstood by this table of sloppy, stupid youths (it should be noted that Connie can't be over twenty-five years old).  After being shown the mugs right in front of her, she huffed away and returned with a fresh pot of coffee.  "I don't know whose is whose, so you'll have to figure that out," said Connie with her ever present air of impatience.  Little did she know we had prepared for that understandably confusing eventuality, and when told, she seemed taken aback.  

Quick aside: we just looked up the name Connie, and discovered that it's short for Constance, which, if a persons name has any bearing on their character, might account for her steadfast crabbiness.

We got our coffee and coasted through the rest of our dining experience, with the exception of being forced to get up and search for a $25 Applebee's giftcard that the patron before us had left. There was no Applebee's giftcard, and even if there was, we all agreed we would have taken it. Everything else was pleasant and uneventful until Paige noted that Elizabeth's last piece of bacon looked like a man in a canoe.  Upon further inspection, we realized that he had a clear profile and very prominent lips.

"Definitely a mouth breather."


It was the first plate she cleared, and our own little piece of heaven went with her.

It should be made clear that it wasn't really even anything that she said that was that bad, it was the way she said it.  Definite 'tude.  Maybe her behavior is just a culmination of years of being dumped on at Denny's.

"These people clearly don't understand me"

- Something Connie would say

  • Jon
    you think jeff will want the warmingtons to play CT after last night?
    he was lovin that shit

  • 6:09pm

    "jon spearly is killin it downstairs"
    • Jon

      was that when we were playing or when [NAME HAS BEEN REMOVED] was stapling my body to the wall with her butt cheeks?