Things I Would Like to Be

By: Jess Simpson

• British
• A Witch
• Someone people look up to, a celebrity
• Your Favorite Celebrity, Emma Watson
• The poster of Emma Watson hanging on your bedroom wall, so I could watch you while you sleep.
• Other things in your room, unrelated to Emma Watson, like your pillowcase, so you could pull me close at night and maybe drool on me (but only a little).
• Or your socks that you keep folded neatly in your drawer and wear every day, so we could walk through life together.
• And if we walked into your kitchen, I would like to be your coffee pot so I could give you something every morning, and help lift you up with—milk, sugar, and maybe some cream—that are just three more things I’d like to be for you.  
• And after you drink your coffee, you’d inevitably go to the bathroom and there I would like to be your toothbrush so I could kiss you in this semi-invasive-odd way and trace the taste-buds on your tongue and the plaque building at your teeth that your dentist warned you about last week, and I only know about because I was there, watching, to make sure you were okay.
• And I think it would be wonderful to be all of these things or none of these things so I could be your wife or girlfriend or someone you want to see (we don’t have to commit right away).  Just as long as it’s only you and me and our pillows and our socks and our coffeepot and our toothbrush.  And you forget about Emma Watson.

Life Hacks You Will Love

By: Shannon Kelly

• Buy multiple hampers: This way, no matter how much dirty laundry you have, it will always fit in one of your laundry baskets.
• Buy stamps: Once a year, buy a whole book of stamps that you’ll eventually misplace.
• Eat all of your groceries in one day:Now you don’t have to worry about them going bad!
• Avoid buying clothes: Just put stickers on your old ones and people will think you’re rich.
• Use a binder as a clipboard: Don’t be afraid to change things up every once in a while!
• Eat everything: Orange peels, banana peels, avocado skin,
don’t leave anything to waste.
• Tell everyone your dad is the Dean: You can get away with any-
thing your heart desires.
• Shower 7 times each Monday: Save time by getting in all of your showers in at the beginning of the week.
• Max out your credit cards: So you don’t have to worry about spending too much in one place.
• Use thumbtacks correctly: Stab yourself in the thumb with a
thumbtack because that’s what they’re made for.
• Have a child: You can claim them as a dependent on your tax forms.
• Steal

Quiz: Are These Noises Made by Power Tools or Food Processors?

By: Remi (Guest Writer)

1. BYAYAYAYYAYAYAYY
   1. Power Tool
   2. Food Processor
2. WEEEEEEEEEYYAAAOOOOOOOO
   1. Power Tool
   2. Food Processor
3. PEWPWEPPWPWEPAPAHPA
   1. Power Tool
   2. Food Processor
4. *Sound of fruit being smashed*
   1. Power Tool
   2. Food Processor
5. FIZIFIZFIIZFIFIZFIPFIZFPZFI
   1. Power Tool
   2. Food Processor

 

Answer Key:

 

1. Power tool – How could you get that wrong you buffoon?
2. Power tool – Seriously, only an absolute barbarian could mess this up.
3. Food processor – Please stop just please make it stop
4. Food processor – You troglodyte.
5. Power tool – Idiot!

BUY 20 BRICKS TODAY!

By: David Kinzlmaier

Have you ever felt unsafe in your own home? Have you ever felt unsafe walking back home late at night? Well no longer! Hi, Jerry Harper here with a product just for you! Introducing, “Bricks”, the easy, convenient home and personal defense system. And it’s easy to use! Simply pick up one of the 20 provided bricks, throw it at an attacker, and keep throwing until you run out! After one brick, they’ll come out with a bruise. After two bricks, they’ll have a pretty bad day. But there ain’t no way in hell they’ll be walking away from 20 bricks!

Our bricks have been engineered to be as aerodynamically sound and effective as possible! The optimal number of bricks needed to take down any person has been heavily researched, assuring that you only carry EXACTLY what you need to defend yourself!

Don’t take our word for it! Commissioner Brawnson commented on the use of our product, calling it an “obscene amount of force” and “the most barbaric act of self-defense I have seen in all my years on the force” If that doesn’t convince you, just listen to the reviews of our satisfied customers!

“I was coming back from the club when I was jumped. Twenty bricks was EXACTLY how many bricks I needed to beat the guy into submission! Thanks Pile of 20 Bricks!”

So what are you waiting for? Buy Bricks today!

Bury Yourself with a Good Book

By: Tyler Sikov

Have you recently died (entirely or even just inside)? Then go bury yourself with a good book!

1. Hamlet: everyone in that book is dead also.
2. The bible: maybe you can get resurrected like that one guy.
3. Oedipus: get to live your dream of killing your dad.
4. Alice in Wonderland: never tried LSD, well here’s your chance!
5. The Encyclopedia: I mean you do have a lot of time on your hands.
6. Into the Wild: I just love fiction, don’t you?
7. Amnesia books: What was I saying again?
8. Moby Dick: have a whale of a good time.
9. Oedipus: get to live your dream of killing your dad.
10. Alice in Wonderland: never had nightmares about playing cards? Well here’s your chance.
11. The Encyclopedia: a collection of very short stories.
12. Animal Farm: just a good book about a farm that is definitely not about communism.
13. I think that is all the books.

Student Discovers the Life of “Keggy”

By: Joe Weidman

“I was in Mellinger’s, my home. I was hibernating, dead, cold, and empty. But then Chad came. My Master filled me and Chad took me to his house and I was alive again! Chad is love, Chad is life.” exclaimed Keggy in the basement of an Atwood house at Chad’s party.

The Pittiful News recently discovered, at one of the many parties its writers attend, a sentient keg. We named him Keggy, and considering this to be a wonderful scientific discovery for the bro-world, we have decided to unveil him to the world.

“I remember lots of things” Keggy mused when asked how his life works.

“I become full and ready to live life and have fun. I get ready for gargoyles and kegstands and crazy dancing and all my red solo cup friends. But slowly, I fade and die. Really the more fun I have and the more red cup friends I see, the faster I fade.”

Keggy was discovered when one of our writers stopped sweatily dancing in a gross south O basement and became randomly sober for about five seconds and realized (7 shots and 5 beers deep, not that he was counting, but Keggy was) that the keg’s nozzle connected to the tap he was pumping was talking. Conversation ensued and Keggy outlined his unique existence on this earth in South O. Keggy seems to continually die and become reborn as the same thing, a keg, with slightly differing blood (depending on the beer) each time. He described his anatomy as such:

He has a somewhat sad existence, but we were surprised that his anus was what we pour beer out of, so at least he isn’t constipated. After thinking a second, our writer realized along with this that we drink his blood, making us effectively “Beer Vampires,” the name of Keggy’s band he plays in with the sentient dishwasher and sink at Hemingway’s.

“I have seen men drink half of me, I have seen barf and sweat and some rather risqué business… I have been stuck to the floor, I have been sat on by both bony and thiccc booties. The longest kegstand I have felt was 32 seconds. I have been kicked 1,183 times, and made love to 34 bags of franzia left on top of me. I have seen it all, but nothing is better than being filled up with nice beer.”

Our writer-scientist-discoverer was drinking lionshead from Keggy, but he was near death, and sadly Keggy had to take his leave as our writer poured his last from Keggy. But Keggy assured him this as the last of his foamy blood sputtered out:

“I will be back. Maybe not next week, but maybe the week after. I been thinking of taking a vacation and being filled with blue moon at Gdoor or some nice pumpkin ale at Hemingway’s. I’m tired of being trashy. I wanna class it up for once.”

Literally Dead Right Now

By: Tyler Sikov

“Literally I’m dying” were the last words I wrote in my past life after I was sent an astute meme. I was promptly resurrected in my bed. Now I have some ideas on how this happened. I either died by getting chopped in half by my buzzsaw collection or I literally died laughing. But the bigger question is why I got resurrected.

My first idea is that I am in fact a cat. This claim is backed up by the fact that I have a long tongue with radula on it and lick myself clean multiple times a day. I also eat cat food and have a tail. Another theory I have is that life is a video game. This could be true because there is this random floating health bar above my head at all times. A third theory is that I have performed an equal number of sins and good deeds. This is true because I pushed someone off a train, but also saved a different person from being pushed off a train by me. A fourth theory is that I am still dead. Satan could be playing a cruel trick on me or God could be as I was never religious.

What if all of life is just death? What if I died when I was a kid and this whole time some demonic being has been convincing me that I am alive. Come to think of it I do not remember ever leaving this room, except for of course riding on the top of that train while texting and carrying my buzzsaw collection. Or I could have just fallen asleep and woken up with the idea in my head that I died on that train. Signing off until my next life.

Dear Abby

By: David Kinzlmaier

Dear Abby,

Long time listener, first time writing. Me and a couple of buddies all got together to watch the Superbowl a few months ago and we wanted to make a night out of it. We all settled down and we’re about 2 beers in when the first one hit. It was the Tide ad with David Harbour, that cop guy from Stranger Things. Everyone got a good laugh, but it caught me off guard. I was fully expecting a car commercial but, as the dreamy David Harbour stared me dead in the eyes, he reminded me that it was a Tide Ad. I was overcome with a sea of doubt, unlike anything I have ever experienced before. Something about his dark, unwavering stare and calm demeanor hinted at a higher truth, so tantalizingly close yet out of reach to mortal minds. I leaned forward, focusing, trying to understand what he meant as my expectations were subverted again and again and again. Even after the ad ended and the jovial laughter morphed into an excited murmur, the question still stood with me. What did Hollywood superstar David Harbor mean?

It was about a half hour later when the second Tide ad hit, and Hollywood Superstar David Harbour, from within his harem of elderly tennis players, taunted me yet again. The clean clothes, the fresh scent, the knowing laughs, what did they all mean?! There was greater meaning behind his honeyed words, he had hinted at the lock and the key, but it was up to me to find both.

Then it dawned on me. I slowly looked around the room, observing with horrified fascination. My friends were rowdy and jubilant, yet they were asleep. How could they not realize?! The clues were given, the puzzle pieces connected to form a picture, but what a picture. In a fit of hysteria I ran outside, as if running could change the reality in which I was trapped. A blast of a horn followed by the powerful impact of a Ford F150 on my side sent me sprawling into the street. As my senses came back to me, I looked down expecting to find myself broken, bloodstained, dying.

My shirt was a bright white, brighter than ever before. A man knelt beside me, checking to see if I was ok. I turned to him to let him know I was fine, but the words caught in my throat as I looked into the abyssal eyes of Hollywood Superstar David Harbour. He gave me a cold, dead smile.

“It’s just a Tide Ad.”

Abby I’m scared. What do I do? What can I do?

Sincerely,

A Very Clean Man

Reductionist Professor Simplifies Psychology Course into Freud Stuff and “Everything Else”

By: Rachel Boward

Professor of Introduction to Psychology at the University of Pittsburgh and known reductionist, Bryan Bugmon, recently announced his radical curriculum change for the upcoming Fall semester. Simplifying his syllabus down into two main parts, Freud and, as he puts it, “all that other crap”, Bugmon claims this minimalist teaching style will better suit the actual expectations of practicing psychologists. “I mean, all you really gotta know is the Freud stuff. But, I do need to fill up the second half of the semester with something.”

Bugmon’s decision comes after many years of complaints on his OMETs from students who were frustrated with the unreasonable expectations for his intro course. “I started out just teaching the students the entire textbook. I mean, I didn’t really think it was that unreasonable, but the OMETs don’t lie!”

The tenured professor resisted instating any radical changes for years, assuming his critics were simply bitter students indignant to find that his class was not as easy of an A as they expected. However, what really tipped the scale for Bugmon was a comment on his “Rate My Professor” page from a passionate ex-student.

“He gave me a one-star rating and asked ‘When the hell am I gonna use any of this shit? The only cool part was Freud. That dude really knew what he was talking about. The Oedipus complex? Too fuckin’ real.’ Really made me wonder: Why even teach material that my students are never going to use again?” After that epiphany, Bugmon immediately began work on his updated syllabus, deleting all material that wasn’t related to Freud and building from there.

Other Pitt professors have begun to follow Bugmon’s lead. Mary O’Connor of the Gender, Sexuality, and Women’s Studies department has done a complete overhaul of her syllabus to only include Michel Foucault and Judith Butler. Ryan Omega has petitioned the university to create a new class called “Coins and Crap” to be housed in the economics department. One poetry professor, who wishes to remain unnamed, plans on devoting a good 75% of the semester to the classic poem, “The Road Not Taken”, by Robert Frost. And, in perhaps the most dramatic move so far in this new teaching style, the entire sociology department unanimously decided this past Tuesday to reduce all their classes down into one, large course titled “Marx, Marx, Marx.”

This shift has inspired a revolution in the university community. Bugmon seemed ecstatic about the impact his decision has had on his fellow professors. His excitement is almost palpable, “Like I said, OMETs don’t lie. I’ve gotten rave reviews so far, and the syllabus hasn’t even gone into place yet! Plus, my rating on Rate My Professor shot up from one to 1.75 stars. I just can’t wait to see how my stats improve once the syllabus actually takes effect!”

I Participated in a Medical Trial So You Wouldn’t Have To

By: Ernie Tremper

Journalistic integrity. Seeking the truth, no matter the obstacles. The unimpeachable autonomy of the press. Phrases like this tumbled around in my mind while I drove to the building where I was about to have my first ever medical trial.

And anyway, I told myself, it’s all in the name of science. Journalism and science. That sounds like a rockin’ combo to me.

I had the radio set to my favorite 80’s station, WDOG, hoping it might calm my nerves. But Jimmy Buffett and his classic tune “I’m Getting a Blowjob (in Martinique)” just weren’t doing the trick. Finally, I pulled up to the address I’d been given, and was shocked by what I saw. Paint chipping off the façade. Windows boarded up. Giant graffito of a single lonesome tit, softly lactating, on the front wall. Weeds were peeking out through cracks in the pavement all over the parking lot. Save for my car, it was completely empty. Was I the only participant in this trial?

As I was opening the door to the building, I thought to myself, Nothing that I could possibly see right now could make me feel worse about this whole experience. How wrong I was!

Stepping into the waiting area, I nearly bumped right into a homeless! It was an obvious homeless, too! He had on dirty jeans and a kind of army jacket. His beard was all scraggly and gray, with orange stains. I was horrified! What was he doing here? Had he wandered in looking for a place for his urine? Would he be thrown out soon? Anxiously, I awaited his expulsion.

He walked up to the front desk, where I was sure he’d be met with the kind of fury good home-owning people reserve for the intruding homeless.Imagine my horror when he received no comeuppance! On the contrary, he was rewarded with a piece of paper, on which he was instructed to write down his disgusting name and personal information! Who wants to know such trash?

Reeling from the shock, I ran out of the building, back into the safety of my car. I flipped the radio back on. Oh, sweet WDOG, give me solace in this terrible time. My prayers were answered, because at that moment I heard the lilting strains of Prince’s hit “Let’s Dry-Hump (in Minnesota).”

I sped home. Screw that, I thought to myself. I can conduct medical experiments on myself in the comfort of my own home. (Thus ends part one of my medical trial adventure. Stay tuned for part two, when this spoon finally heats up and I can get these 800 mg of heroin into an injectable form.)