Habitat for Inhumanity
I don't claim to be the cleanest person on the block, but I do believe in a basic minimum inalienable standard of acceptable human living conditions. And Shanty Town doesn't qualify.
Tag: Stories
Fear and Loathing at My Parents’ House
Reluctantly, I agreed to take care of my mother’s cat while she was out of town. Being a lover of all animals, you'd think I'd have been excited - but you'd be mistaken.
On the Destruction of Kindness
Instead of the wonderful Korean language that once filled the teacher's lounge with beauty and dignity, the atmosphere became impregnated with George Carlin rhetoric.
Senior Stumble vs. The Cops
Every May, some University of San Francisco seniors coordinate a bar stumble to celebrate the conclusion of $160,000 and four years of boobs, booze, and SparkNotes.
Game, Set, Match: My Short-Lived Adventure in the Humanities
My Humanities degree wasn't enough to prepare me for the prospect of the real-world, competitive unknown. Fortunately, I resembled a missing pro tennis player.
Dead Baby Jokes Don’t Sit Well with Mom
A couple of days ago I found a site devoted to the most gruesome, disgusting, and hilarious dead baby jokes ever. Only problem was, my mom was right behind me.
Marcus vs. the KFC Double Down
Colonel Sanders learns the hard way that you never play chicken with a sandwich unless you're willing to eat it in the end.
The Dregs of Society
Once upon a recession, a family of wandering gypsies arrived in America by steamer from Istanbul, and their long stay at the Marriott proved more fruitful than expected.
Facebooking My Biological Father
The following are actual Facebook messages between me and my biological father, who has been absent from my life since I was about five years old.
iPhone Number Three Meets Chappy’s Number Two
If you tell someone that you dropped a phone in the toilet, they invariably have but one question: 'Was it clean, or….you know?'
The Yogurt Palace: My Years as a King
I worked a different 9 to 5, PM to AM. I was the night maintenance guy at the Yogurt Palace, and I had the whole Palace to myself. For those 9 hours, I was king.
How to Avoid Being Butt-Fucked By a Goat in Two Easy Steps
I bet Billy Mays could do a lot more than sell useless crap to dumb people. Can you imagine having him as your wingman at the bar? I can.