Christmas Eve Office Party: Nonsense Gift Guide

By: Lizzie Frank

It’s that time of year again! Time to drop hundreds of dollars on underappreciated gifts for people you don’t even like that much! And no, I’m not talking about Christmas Eve or Hanukkah Part 2. Oh no, no, no. This is a much more sacred holiday event. That’s right, it’s ChristmASS, the annual, obligatory office holiday party where your supervisor Christine gets drunk off her ass, holds everyone at gunpoint, dies, and gets brought back to life using a half-working AED and 8 vending machine grape sodas. Word on the street this year is that your manager Patrice is giving out iTunes gift cards, and apparently 50% of them are actually going to have money on them this year. Very cool. Last year, your coworker Anita gave birth in the break room after everyone yelled at her, which really roused the whole office into that old school Christmas spirit, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen again this year, so the floor opted for a Secret Santa instead. You drew Jeff from Marketing, and that dude is such a cool cat that you just have to get him something brilliant! Well, if you don’t know where to begin, this is the gift guide for you.


 

Frame Him For Murder

 

This isn’t a gift you see often, but I can’t fathom why! This holiday season, get your loved one (Jeff) the once in a lifetime experience of going on the run from the FBI for a murder he knows he didn’t commit. After telling your co-worker Jeff you’d do anything for him, break into his house late at night and plant an incriminating piece of evidence -- perhaps a bloody murder weapon! When he calls you the next morning to beg for help, put him in touch with a hardened survival expert who will give him the fear of God and a busted car with 100 grams of cocaine stashed in the glove compartment. For an additional kick, get the gift receiver (Jeff) blackout drunk the night before, so that when he wakes up the next morning to find a bloody knife and cadaver in bed with him, he’ll have no clue if he’s actually killed or not! That’s like something straight out of a good book!


 

A Horse

 

If Jeff has never been on a horse before, he’s gonna lose his mind! He’ll love it. Horses are one of the most underrated animal gifts in America, a baffling drop-off from the 1950s, I imagine. Picture this: everyone’s gathered in the break room to exchange presents. You come up behind Jeff and gently cover his eyes with your hands. “Guess who?” you say, playfully. He guesses that it’s Mark, the custodian, and then it becomes kind of obvious that he doesn’t know what your hands feel like at all. Embarrassing, yes, but you will make up for this. You lead him into the elevator, and then outside onto the chilly street. You uncover his eyes, and that’s when he sees it: a big ass horse just chilling on the sidewalk. I guarantee it, Jeff will lose his mind! Can you imagine Jeff riding into work every day on a glorious, 17 hands high, chestnut quarter horse? It sounds like I made some of that up, but I promise you that’s the size of the horse. Can you imagine Jeff coming out of the elevator on the back of a horse? The whole office will be sooooooooo jealous man, you don’t even know. Everyone’s gonna want to get you as their Secret Santa after this.


 

Foreclose His House

 

Oh my god can you even imagine? Thanksgiving was a month ago, but Jeff’s gonna be so thankful for this he won’t know what to do! Sure, you’ll have to pull some strings with your uncle who works at Jeff’s bank, but it’ll be totally worth it to free Jeff from his mortgage on that hellish 1400 square foot split-level shit shack. He’s always complaining about his raccoon infestation and his noisy neighbors, so this gift will eventually be a godsend! He’ll come home from Hit the Quan-za (Chelsea from HR is really into holiday inclusion this year) thinking all you got him was a horse, and then bam! He sees the foreclosure sign on his lawn. That night you can come over, just to let him know that you’ll do anything to him. Maybe you two will have a couple drinks, like way more than he planned on having, and eventually, with your encouragement, perhaps he’ll fall into a deep rest. And, as his eyes begin to flutter like REM sleep cherubim, you’ll tuck him in and run your hands through his hair. Would Mark the custodian do this for Jeff? Hell no. Now go to the car and get the supplies, it’s cadaver time baby! Nothing beats the experience of running from both the law and a side of yourself you weren’t sure existed, but try this one on for size: now you (Hypothetical Jeff) have have nowhere to go because your home has been foreclosed, and your real best friend, Mark, lives out of a Volkswagen bus. Now you know exactly how Jeff feels, and so you understand just how important it is to gaslight him into thinking you had never even come over. Just wait, though, you’re gonna be getting some serious kudos, because let’s just say that between 2,000 pounds of body heat and a top speed of 26 knots, that horse in the parking lot is suddenly looking pretty sweet.


 

A Stunning Diamond Inlay Xbox One

 

Fellas, is it gay to buy your bro a diamond laden Xbox One? I don’t think so! Sure, Jeff is less of a brother and more of a co-worker whose hands you know better than your own, but hey, if you’re gonna go big, go massive. This gift will be perfect for him, especially because these next-gen consoles all need WiFi and a television and a house with electricity to really enjoy them. It’ll really be initiative for him to get back on his feet! Jeff loves FIFA, that’s what he was playing at last year’s Hit the Quan-ukkah (Chelsea from HR is also really lazy) while Claude was printing out scans of his bare, port wine ass to hang all over the office. FIFA is apparently great on Xbox One, so Jeff will have a jolly ol’ time once he finally pieces together that fateful, forgotten night and gains the strength to start his life anew.


 

The Couch Your Coworker Anita Gave Birth On Last Year

 

This is the perfect item to present Jeff with when he comes around to your place, begging to crash in your living room for just a few nights. He’s already asked most of your other coworkers, even a certain gruff someone whose home is a giant, rolling ecological footprint. But if he thinks they’re going to let him sleep on any of their couches, he’s dead wrong! They’ve read about the knife and the busker’s body by now, ha ha. Ride over to the office with him and help him push the couch out of the break room and into the alley a few streets. Nobody in the office will miss it anyway; it’s still got some weird stains from where Anita pushed a fatherless mess(iah) out through her pearly gates. Hopefully those stains will remind Jeff of the miracle of human conception, and not Claude’s ass, inspiring him to get back to his goal of becoming a father and a homeowner and a man who knows for sure if he’s ever used a knife to make life stop.


 

Get Him Very Ill

 

Be careful when giving this gift; it’s a little political. I mean, Jeff’s a guy with a lot of privilege, isn’t he? What gift is better than the experience of finding yourself locked in a hospital quarantine ward, void of any attention or human contact, with walls and sheets and lights as obnoxiously bright as your own skin. Jeff will love getting to find out how many of his friends are fake, based on how many never come to visit despite literally living in a Volkswagen bus. And this’ll really open his eyes to the healthcare issues that are so important in America right now, especially once he has to start paying off those bills without the help of a healthcare provider. Admitting yourself to the ER with a freshly shaved head and no proof of insurance or identification? Gutsy. But it will really teach him a lesson for that time he missed the company showing of Michael Moore’s Sicko! And the murder.


 

A Webkinz

 

They’re soooo cheap now

 

The 5 Reasons Star Wars: The Last Jedi Sucked (From A Real Fans Perspective)

By: Ben Fletcher 

 

If you’re a true Star Wars fan, you know that a lot of the movies suck. As soon as a new movie is announced, you and all your friends go right back to hypothesizing the various ways these next two hours will make your childhood ache. You do it every time. There has never been a Star Wars movie that's lived up to any real fan's expectations; not the prequels, not the new trilogy, and most certainly not the original trilogy, which blindsided viewers by existing at a time when movies like Tron and The Godfather seemed good. As an avid consumer of the George Lucas sci-fi movie powerhouse, I pride myself on never being satisfied or enjoying anything having to do with it, because I know how good this series could be if they would just do everything that I say. Heres the top 5 reasons Star Wars: The Last Jedi blows Tonton dick.

 

  1. No Jar Jar Binks – Absolutely not one scene with Jar Jar in it in this one folks. Once again, the most easily lovable and impactful character in the whole franchise is left COMPLETELY OUT of this new trilogy. Not only is this a dumb move, as Jar Jar’s special talents in speaking and being tall could really have been utilized for many of this movie’s major plot points, such as the infamous shelf scene, but it’s also completely disrespectful to cast him out like he's some sort of Ewok trash. I'm not saying it's racist, I wouldn't at all know how to express that thought adequately. But it certainly feels racist. If you think getting rid of Mr. Binks is going to make your movie any good, then, well, in the words of Jar Jar himself: “you got meesa fucked up.”

  2. Mark Hamill shit himself during one of the scenes and you could definitely tell – This was uncomfortable for everyone in the theater, and surely on set as well. For those who haven't seen the newest installment, there's a scene directly following the car chase where Luke is trying to use the force on the top of this mountain, because that's like Sudoku to him I guess. But the only thing actor Mark Hamill forced out was a shart the size of Jar Jar's forearm. They tried to edit out the sound, and they did a pretty good job of it, but you simply can’t edit out the look on a man’s face when he realizes he ripped his ass wide open in front of a million fresh-faced tweens who don't know who Carrie Fisher is. Actually, they probably could have edited that out too.

  3. The kid behind me wouldn’t stop gasping with excitement– This little normie-ass dumbass wouldn’t stop oohing and ahhing every time something riddled his imagination with wonder and excitement. You should have heard the way he kept asking his mom about if space is really that big, and if it's anyone's job to explore it, and if he could do that some day. It’s like, dude, shut up. You're a fake ass fan and everyone in the theater knows it. Frankly, it really took me out of the experience of regretting all the money I'd spent on this steaming pile of cinematic Wookie dookie, as well as all the posters and shirts and figurines, to hear this poser basically podcast with his mom for half an hour about what it means to feel joy.

  4. My girlfriend broke up with me – Not even an 8th of the way through the movie, my (now ex) girlfriend decided that she wasn’t nearly smart or pretty enough to be with me, and texted me that she was kicking me out of her apartment so she could try to improve herself to be better for me. I understood because I’m very understanding, but what I couldn’t understand was why she thought it was a good idea, of all things, to text me while I’m at literally the worst movie of all time. If that wasn’t a tell-tale sign that we shouldn’t be together, maybe the fact that she kept asking me to pay rent should’ve been. Princess Leia she is not. It really ruined the first half of the movie, or however far in we got before

  5. The projector and screen blew up – I don’t know if this is some new wave, 4D immersion bullshit or whatever, but at what had to be the 3/4th mark of the "film," the screen quite literally exploded, sending chunks of drywall and imagination flying everywhere. What was that supposed to accomplish? Was the audience supposed to feel like we were the ones being shot at? I already felt like they were trying to kill me when they made Mark Hamill play his own girlfriend like Eddie Murphy in Norbit. The only good part was that it ended the movie much quicker, and caused somebody or something to go flying into just my corneas, blindng me. Now I don’t ever have to be disappointed by one of these movies again. But I will. And I can't wait.  

 

Dunkirk: A Review

By: Peter Soucy

A bunch of young, handsome, Britishmen wait on a beach for an older, uglier, British man to take them fishing: this is the basic plot of Dunkirk. This wartime romance also features no women. All these handsome men and no women! Typical Hollywood.

At least 3 Nazis die in the film which is good. Tom Hardy does not take his shirt off in victory when he shoots them down; in fact, he actually has all of his body covered, including his face. Director Christopher Nolan said he wanted Hardy’s body to be completely covered so no one would see how handsome he is. He did not want people to see the movie because of the handsome men. He wanted people to see the movie for the lack of women. Hardy is such a talented actor that he did not leave the prop plane’s cockpit for the entirety of the movie’s shooting. By the time he shot his last scene, Hardy was very wet with pee. He got very sick. Maybe that's why they made him stay in the plane.

Harry Styles is also in the movie and should have died with a piece of toast in his mouth, but his best friend Tom Hardy said he would not do the movie unless Harry Styles lived until the end. Nolan apparently did not know Harry Styles was the Prince of Pop and heir to the British throne. In an interview, he said he chose Styles solely because the young man serenaded Nolan about a french cat during his audition. Isn’t that fucked up?

But why are these Britishmen the stars of a war movie? I’m wondering that too. Isn’t war America’s pastime? And isn’t being handsome reserved only for Americans? When did a chiseled chin, a tight physique, and a foreign accent make a man handsome? Handsomeitity used to be based on the wear on your work boots, the size of your gut, and the soil under your fingertips. All those soldiers were small Britishmen. I could eat them for breakfast.

I’d like to.

My Tinder profile shows off my boots and my fingertips very intensely, and I’ve only gotten 11 matches, and have gone on 2 dates. One ended in my blow up pool. No sex. I bet Harry Styles has sex. Ugh. More like un-Hairy Styles, because he’s got no hair! These “men,” so handsome and so hairless. How do they do it? I have so much hair. Some would say too much, but not me. I would never speak on that. I have just enough to wear my shirt a little too unbuttoned, and just under the amount where the government would forcibly shave me. And that’s really all I can say. On the second Tinder date, I took a girl to see Dunkirk, the new Christopher Nolan movie by the guy that made Christian Bale yell and then apologize.

Anyway,  I’ve decided to go on a diet and go back to school. I’ve made an Instagram account to chronicle my weight loss, if you would like to follow my journey. It’s called TheFaceBehindThe_Neck, but I might change it later if my face becomes muscular beyond all control. As always, thanks for reading this, and thanks for creating the movie Dunkirk: A Boy’s Tale. Hopefully your next movie is even better. Hopefully it will be Transformers. I think you would do a good job at that.


 

Drafting the Apology Letter Your Parents Will Never Give You; Do's and Don't's

By: Victoria Jenkins 

Parents, huh? They made you, they raised you, they scarred you, and now they’re back for blood. Your dad’s blood cell count is too low. They need a transfusion stat and you’re a perfect match. I may be joking about the blood, but the emotional trauma they branded you with is no laughing matter. You deserve respect. You deserve reparations. You deserve an apology. They’re never gonna write it, god, do I have to do everything around here? Kick that troubled ass into gear and follow these helpful guidelines:

 

DO: Prepare yourself. Hunt for and gather supplies.

 

This is going to be an emotional trip. Snacks, tissues, water, long range hunting rifle, lube - you never know what you’re going to need, but you’re going to want it all.

 

DON’T: Bring up the neighbors.

 

Competition always ran high within the neighborhood. Discussing your parents’ rivals would only sour their humble act of atonement. Besides, your family was publicly declared the hairiest on the block, and the others can’t say anything to change that.

 

DO: Point out their many apparent and inherent shortcomings.

 

Adults love to discuss their flaws and freely admit their mistakes. To give the letter an authentic “Mom and Dad” feel, consider every time they’ve ever wronged you and how they might say sorry for that. You’d been trying to befriend the deer in the backyard when it suddenly “ran away” and dinner was venison for a week after. Your father offers you clout to make up for this, but do you accept it? Yes.

 

DON’T: Turn your back.

 

The one thing you needed as a child was the unconditional love and support of your parents. All you got was the sharp teeth and rough barks of a hardened heart. Be there for yourself; compliment your own deep, brown eyes, or your soft, pink flesh.

 

DO: Stand up for yourself.

 

Looking weak, scared, or vulnerable is only going to invite another attack. You and your father know you should be second-in-command, so how about he finally tells you so? Better yet, he concedes you his spot as the alpha male- now you’re really sitting pretty!

 

DON’T: Make eye contact.

 

It’s all about power, baby. Brief glances.

 

DO: Throw this letter out.

 

Let’s be honest here, your parents wouldn’t write it even if they could. You’ve already become the person you’re going to be. It’s your American and God-given right to pass your flaming torch of emotional baggage to the next generation under the light of a full moon. Treat yourself to a steak; not much else you can do when you were raised by wolves.

Local Speed Demon Drafts Unsuspecting Big Rig

By: Quin Asselin

“Randy you son of a...” Fort Worth, TX resident and local meth enthusiast, Gek “The Stench” Greer, was quoted as mumbling before snapping his taut neck towards the back of his otherwise unoccupied ‘83 Ford Fiesta. Greer, reportedly on hour 16 of a “rock candy dandy,” had devoted all of his attention to drafting behind a semi-trailer truck. To passers-by watching the madness unfold, Greer piloted his scarlet trashwagon with a deft hand, and a wet hand at that, inspiring both fear and awe. Inside the beet red buggy, Mr. Stench blindly hurdled towards the New Mexico border in pursuit roughly 10 feet behind the big rig.

The trailer’s driver, one Steve Carell (no relation, but what are the odds??) claimed no knowledge of, “a geeked out speed freak” on his tail for more than 200 miles, but would go on to commend the orange-eyed former freelance woodworker. “That man’s slick as a newt,” said Carell, before really laying into the horn for a moment. “Let him know he’s always free to ride with Steve.”

Initial reports suggest the intent of The Stench was to seduce the trailer’s sexy mudflap maidens into his crimson hell shuttle. However, a two-and-a-half hour voicemail left on the phone of one Crank Buttsnap suggests Greer was actually using the trailer’s slipstream to hide from the “awful winds of the ghouls.” While they were asked to elaborate on their relationship with Greer, the ghouls of Interstate 20 could not be reached for comment. Visible always, never quite out of sight, and yet forever escaping the grasp of those rare few who choose still to seek them.

Tests performed on the broken remains of Greer’s infernal jalopy revealed that his fuel efficiency had increased by up to 25%. Though Greer claimed that he would be able to, “ride ‘til [he] died!”, this journey was cut short by a pothole that sent Gek and his burgundy fuck bug into a highway drainage ditch.

Greer is currently set to make a slow recovery, and has so far declined to make a statement unless this reporter is willing to, “scratch an itch.”