News & Entertainment chatter.
So, let’s do a little survey? (Not an actual survey… I mean, I can’t very well sit here and wait for your answers or there wouldn’t be a post, now would there?) What do you think of when I say “White Castle?”
Oh? What’s that?
Drunken nights?
Hangover prevention food?
Me passed out in the middle of my living room with no pants on covered only by a Dance, Dance, Revolution mat, surrounded by empty White Castle boxes with little onions and pickles around my head only AFTER I’ve been outside in my front yard telling my friends that I need to go to the gas station with them regardless of the fact that I’m not currently wearing pants? (Oh. Wait. Is that just me? Ok, fine… Things escalated quickly… My boyfriend was a bartender… I… I… I don’t know what happened. But I will say, that Dance, Dance Revolution mat made a mighty fine hobo blanket…)
Anyways, back to the point… Who here thinks of the following picture when you think of White Castle???
Hot and steamy night at the Castle?! NEED RESERVATIONS?! Who reserves a table at White Castle??? I don’t think I’ve ever been inside one… I mean, isn’t most of their business drive-through business??? This… This… This is an outrage! Clearly, the Castle is giving people the wrong idea. That idea being that WHITE CASTLE IS A SUITABLE DINING EXPERIENCE FOR VALENTINE’S DAY.
Just for anyone who might be confused and need clarification: IT’S NOT.
Weigh in on this, Musin.
[Musin Here]
Shit! Damn it Itty, you blew my surprise…now I will have to find another trendy ultra classy top notch late night junk-food house to use for Vday–PAH! As if! (remember that? I haven’t heard someone use that in decades) I think it is better off left alone, mayhaps.
Please, can someone find out/guess how much they had to pay those people on the flier to forever be the laughing stock of America (and AH). They are now the poster children of FAIL. As in, did they REALLY pick up the phone, dial 718-899-8404, plug in the appropriate extension, make reservations for Valentines Day @ White Castle, invite a date, and take the date out to a stove-lit candlelit dinner for Valentines Day at White Castle? Who the font would subject them self to such fuckry? *Looks up at the pics of the people on the flier, ah welp! Tough break!
Also, In looking further into this terribly bad idea I discovered instead of this stove-lit dinner (eff it, it is what it is), you could bring home to your lovey a “Cupid Crave Kit”, HA! This featuring eight cheeseburgers, one sack of fries, two sodas, and a “keepsake item”. WOOT! A keepsake item from White Castle? What could that be, Grease?
Clev, please weigh in on this.
[Wait! Itty here again... I just came to the realization that this is a legitimate phone number... As in one that they think people are actually going to call... My guess? You dial 1-800-I'm-A-Douche and you get the exact same thing... The White Castle Special V-Day Reservations Hotline... Imagine the people working on the other end of the line... "White Castle Hotline, reservations for 2?" all the meanwhile thinking to theirself "Life really doesn't get any lower than this and you, fair customer, really ARE a douchebag..."]
Stop hogging Itty! [Oh, Clev here]
You want to know how outrageous this is? Well, a friend of mine once went into a White Castle after a drunken night. Before entering the eatery (pah!) he noticed a bum needy-looking individual perched up by the door. Now, my friend (the thoughtful individual that he is) thoughtfully (duh) remembered this man while ordering his food, even in his drunken state.
After the cashier rings up the order, he grabs the two separate bags, heads out the door, and gleefully hands the man the bag. The man reluctantly takes the bag, peeks inside and frowns. THEN, he crumples the bag back up and hands it to my friend and replies, “no thanks.”
And THIS is the place to take a Valentine’s date? Me thinks not..
Oh and can someone please call! If someone calls, make reservations and goes, I’ll pay for it.
Shite! There is a website. Oh, they go hard (like Brooklyn). Their tagline is…”Valentine’s Day at the LOVE Castle” PAH!
Happy VD kids! No, not that kind…Sickos.
Team AH.
HUGE day for the world! Big for America yes, but the impact this man has surely transcends globally. I am beyond excited to be able to say that “I was there” for Barack’s Big Day.
I’ll spare you all the details of the gruesome commute. Just know this; never get on a bus filled with MP3 blasting teenagers at 2am going from NY to DC on Barack Obama’s Inauguration day. Got it? Good.
(*fast forwards to the good part.)
… and I had to take a wicked leak! Too bad everywhere was closed — aside from the nearby homeless shelter. Am I homeless? No. Will I use their facilities to relieve my bladder, yes! So I wait in line while my sister waits outside for my return.
I must let you all know that with the ice cold temperatures I HAD to resort to desperate measures. By this I mean I took 4 sheets of bounty and stuffed each of my sneakers as a form of insulation. You would be surprised at how pleased I was with the results. So with my hot hands (great product) and stuffed shoes I rejoined the trek, but where was everyone else? Uhh, gone!
At this point it’s just me myself and I amidst the millions of civilians vying for prime positioning to enter the event. Phones weren’t working well and I had no ticket so at this point I was just being completely non-productive, losing. While wandering I stumbled upon a LARGE CROWD of folks in what was supposed to be a line. A line to what? Who knows, I wasn’t in a rush so eff it. I joined said line and threw on the headphones and churned out some optimism from out of nowhere. I then feel this sea of people begin to move towards what seems to be an entrance to the National Mall.
An official then took the megaphone and announced (in the most angelic voice), “Only Purple ticket holders are being admitted through this gate, ONLY PURPLE TICKET holders, you will be turned back without a purple ticket.” Shit, didn’t matter to me, I had NO ticket so I had nothing to lose anyways. I roughed it out in line while being subjected to inadvertent verbal abuse. Comments like, “We all have purple tickets, let us in! What dumb ass would stand in this long ling without a ticket?!”
:/…*Raises hand. Dumb ass present.
At this point I was WAY too close to throw in the towel. So I bundled up and tossed all my hopes in a bucket. This bucket carried me to the front of the line to meet a squadron of officers. Shit! It was at this point I ducked a little and cut to the middle of the crowd amongst the mass of people fervently waiving their purple tickets in the air to gain admission. I acted as if I was freezing and kept my hands together and stayed low only to make it though the ticket check, I was free! Everyone else in front of me jumped for joy when they gained access so eff it, I faked the funk and did the same. Hands in the air, jumping and all…this in efforts of getting away from the cops as FAST as possible. After getting inside I stumbled upon stranded purple ticket and pocketed it just in case. Talk about fake it ‘til you make it. That’s how it all happened, and the rest, was history (major pun).
Image Courtesy of Steven Clarke
If you’re on a bus with rowdy bachelors and you want to end the party, here’s what you can do:
First, take a lit cigarette and use the ehmmm…. “entertainment’s” ass to put it out, forcing her to scream and almost fly through the top of the bus.
Then, deny that you did it and argue with the “entertainment” about it as she’s still in pain.
Please don’t ask me how I know this. Tyvm.
I’m home for the holidays, so I head out to a local Mexican restaurant with my brother. Typical night at the bar – loud, plenty o’ drinks, the game is on. This lady comes to the bar, takes a seat, makes a take out order and also gets a drink. So, she’s sipping on her drink. After about 20 minutes she gets a very random ‘tude. The guy to the right of her notices said ‘tude and asks the bartender to get her another drink. The bartender gives her the drink at the same time he’s giving her the order.
This is where the problem begins. Upon giving her the food, ‘tude lady starts yapping about how she was ignored for 20 minutes. That she’s a paying customer and yadda yadda yadda. The bartender looks at her and says with a straight face, “Ma’am it’s Christmas.” Eh hem…needless to say, this didn’t go over well.
So now she’s pissed. Her fresh margarita is sitting on the counter. She takes her hand and SHOVES the drink onto the bartender. He’s now soaked with margarita, broken glass everywhere. AND HE DOES NOTHING nothing. Wouldnta been me. That is all.
-V. Clev
