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Month: March 2024

How To Fool Your Mom Into Dropping Ye Old F-Bomb

4 Min Read

Have you ever caught yourself daydreaming about your clean-cut mom or dad suddenly cussing like a sailor?

Then today’s your lucky day, sir…


“Are you sick and tired of waiting around for your prim and proper elderly parent to start cussing? Well, today’s your lucky day…”

Yes, I know it sounds like the beginning of your archetypical 90’s late-night infomercial, but unlike those scams, you’ll see soon enough that I’ll actually deliver on my promises.

You see, if you’re anything like me, you can relate to the adult children in this Onion news article, in which their mother seems to have taken up swearing in her elderly years. I remember reading this article back in the day and thinking to myself, “Hmmm…maybe it’s possible that one day my mother will drop a cuss word or two. That would be a decent consolation prize, seeing as how getting her intoxicated is pretty much out of the question.”

Now, this thought was all mirthful and cheeky until it was pointed out to me–by my mom, nonetheless–that this is actually quite common…in loved ones suffering from dementia.

*gulp!*

Umm…on second thought, maybe having a neophyte cussing mother wouldn’t be the unexpected delight that I had always dreamt it to be. And if you, Dear Reader, have any type of soul at all, you, too, will agree that we need a Plan B…


This April Fool’s Day, have I got just the prank for which you’ve been waiting most of your adult life!

Now, this prank is not for everybody, but that is because of logistics and not morality or taste in humor or any nonsense like that. This, my friend, is objectively funny, guaranteed. Let’s review the key ingredients needed to successfully pull this off:

  • A parent with an iPhone. This might work for other phones, but that exercise is left to the reader.
  • A parent who uses that phone to text. They need to text, and not just text you–that’s not nearly as fun.
  • Ideally, they end all their texts with a ‘sign-off’ phrase. In absence of this, other common phrases can be substituted.
  • Access to said phone. Sadly, this requires geographic proximity to your target–er, I mean ‘parent’. Also, if you don’t know their PIN, you better get on figuring out how to acquire that info. Alternatively, you might be able to unlock their phone with FaceID while they sleep.

Okay, so hopefully you’ve been able to go ‘check…check…check…CHECK!” right on down that list. Perhaps, though, you got a little stuck on the 3rd item, the ‘sign-off’ phrase. It could be something as basic as, ‘Love, your dad’ or (if you’re extremely lucky) ‘In Christ’. In my case…well, I’ll let you take a look at this recent sample conversation with my dear mum:

Did you perhaps notice anything overly consistent about that conversation? Ding ding ding! That is correct: every thought must be ended with ‘Xo’:

Fun fact: the ‘Xo’ also serves as a way to tell whether the other is in distress and/or a kidnapper or other bad actor has the phone and sending the texts: “If there’s no ‘Xo’, then we’re calling the po-po!”

Anyways, so now that you understand what kind of common and recurring phrase we’re after–ideally tacked onto the end of their texts–we can now proceed to fulfilling our profane April Fool’s fantasy.

Step One: After successfully stealing a few moments with the phone and getting into it, go to Settings.

Step Two: Tap on the General sub-menu.

Step Three: Tap on Keyboard.

Step Four: Go to Text Replacement.

Step Five: Tap on the ‘+’ icon to add a new entry.

Step Six: In the Shortcut field, type their beloved sign-off phrase, or any other bit of text you want to auto-magically turn in to potty words. In the Phrase field, type the profanity-laden phrase of your choice. Feel free to be as subtle or as offensive as you desire. In my case, I was inspired by the ‘o’ in ‘Xo’, and felt that it naturally lent itself to ‘Oh, holy fuck!’

Step Seven: Be sure to hit Save, exit out of the Settings app, and return the phone to its original location.

Step Eight: Sit back and enjoy the show! Here’s an example of what might transpire between your parent, and say, another one of your siblings (note: this is a dramatic recreation, as sadly, the original texts have long been deleted for obvious reasons):

You get the idea.

Anyways, the point of the story is:


Content created on: 29/30 March 2024 (Fri/Sat)

Never Trust An Innovative Tool Made By A Damned Fool

3 Min Read

Thinking of helping ol’ Dim-Witted Daryl fudge on his geography test? Don’t be such a dumbass!

Don’t forget: he’s also really bad at math…..


“Dude, my dude! Let me sit next to you during the geography test, and, uh, ‘borrow’ some of your answers.”

I looked at my eighth grade classmate Daryl with wary eyes.

“Hey man,” I said, “I know you would love to get out of taking freshman geography next year, but if I let you cheat off of me during this opt-out test, they’re bound to get suspicious when we turn in identical answers. And then I could end up having to waste my precious freshman time on stuff I already know because of your dumb ass.”

In fairness, Daryl wasn’t a complete and utter dumbass, but he probably would actually benefit from taking freshman geography. And, besides, he was stretching the truth a little bit when he called me “my dude”–we were solid acquaintances, but actually hang-out-level friends? I think not. And I don’t put my academic career on the line for somebody I’ve never spent a moment with outside of the walls of Ocean View Junior High (or the school the buses that serviced such a fine academic institution).

“Nah, amigo, I wouldn’t dare think of asking you to take such risks on my behalf. But that’s okay, I got a fool-proof plan: I’ll change enough of them so as to not raise any red flags,” he assured me.

I sighed a heavy sigh.

“What the hell, I’ll throw a bone. Maybe at least that’ll be one less class that you’ll inevitably flunk out of…”

“What’s that?” Daryl hadn’t quite caught my snarky under-my-breath comment.

“Ummm…nothing. Anyways, at least give me plausible deniability. You can sit next to me during the test, but what you do with your beady little eyes is up to you. I know nothing of this stupid little scheme of yours, and this conversation never happened.”

“Aww, bro, you’re the best! I promise I won’t funk this up…”


“Well, if I don’t end up moving back to Kansas for high school, it looks like I at least won’t have to take the geography class mandated by the State of California for all you other mortals–er, I mean ‘freshman’, hehe,” said somebody that most definitely wasn’t Daryl.

“Daryl,” continued this same non-Daryl person, “how did your plan work out?”

Daryl peeked at the his results from the test for the first time, then looked up at me with eyes that were waaaay sadder than the occasion could ever possibly call for.

“They’re putting me in Remedial Geography. I won’t even be taking regular freshman geography.”

I about choked on the gum I was illicitly chewing in class.

“Damn, dude, exactly how many of my answers did you end up changing?”

“I don’t know, maybe 10 or 15?”

“What the actual funk, man? There were only 25 questions on the test! You mean to tell me your big plan to get out of freshman geography was to take 40% to 60% of the answers that were almost for sure right–I mean, we’re talking about me here–and then change them to be almost for sure wrong?”

I planted my face firmly in my hand.

“Yeah, well it worked didn’t it? No one ever suspected us of cheating, did they?” he somehow thought he was defending his plan.

“Dude it worked too well, and in all the wrong ways. Though technically, you did get out of freshman geography, so I dunno, maybe I’m unknowingly standing in the presence of a genius…”

I stared at Daryl for good half a minute as he stared back at me blankly.

“Nope, that’s definitely not the case. Welp, I think I’ll go have a talk with Principal Anderson. She desperately needs to pass on the message to the high school to put you in remedial math as well. No offense, man, but you might be as dumb as a rock.”

“So? What’s your point?”

“The point of my story is that normally most people cheat to gain an advantage, but yet somehow you defied all odds and found a way to cheat such that you’re almost guaranteed to lose. I’m honestly amazed by your ability to elevate the art of dumbassery.”

“Still not following…”

Oh, poor Daryl, bless his soul.

“Dude, if you would have just taken the test all on your own, you probably would at least be placed in regular freshman geography–heck, you would have had a non-zero chance of actually getting it out of it all together!”

“Whatever you say, man.”

“Well, at I hope you at least learned a couple of important life lessons: first, who the hell cheats on geography?!? If you ever thinking to yourself ‘maybe I should cheat on my geography test…’ then you probably should seek immediate mental help. And, second, of course is the obvious: if you’re going to cheat, Daryl, cheat to win, man, cheat to win…”


Content created on: 23/24 March 2024 (Sat/Sun)

Your Homeboy’s Little Hack For Getting That Hi-Q Edge Back

6 Min Read

You swear you weren’t meaning to get a leg up on the competition.

But now you gotta fix the situation without drawing too much attention…


“Hello, old man! Hi there, old woman!” I said in my head as I tipped my proverbial hat to the elderly couple sitting at the table at the front of the relatively small room. “Don’t mind me,” I said aloud. “I’m just killing time until my old teammates show up for their turn.”

Back in December of ’99 I was a freshman in college, so I was still tight with my younger homies from the Rolla High School Scholars’ Bowl team–especially Jerome1Okay, so his real name is Jeremy–and yes, it’s true, I’m pretty much half-assing this whole ‘protecting the innocent’ schtick., the current senior and captain of the team. So when they traveled to Wichita right before Christmas break to try out for Hi-Q, you bet your sweet ass I hopped in ye’ olde Taurus SHO and drove the 2 hours from my college town to show them my full-throated support.

And maybe, just maybe, relive my glory days just a well bit. Have I ever mentioned that during my time at RHS I was a 3-time State Champion, was on the only Rolla team to take first place at every tournament in a season,2Unless the 2023 tea managed to accomplish this feat… and made the Sante Fe Trail All-League all 4 years of my career (sorta)? What? No, I haven’t? *stifles laugh*

Anyways…sorry, I forgot to explain what Hi-Q was…it was basically a Jeopardy-style tournament for 16 of the finest academic teams in Kansas. This was different than our regular quiz bowl business in two respects: first, it was televised. Sure, it may have came on at 7 am on Sunday mornings, but it was televised nonetheless. And secondly, they held open tryouts and invited any and all high schools to send a team, regardless of size.

Sure, Rolla could smack around other Division 1A schools all day long. When we would pick on someone our own size–specifically schools with an entire Freshman-to-Senior student body of 69 students or less–it was not uncommon for us to p*mp slap up ’em up side the cranium. Being a big fish in a little pond is nothing particularly special. But Hi-Q? That was our chance to take down some of the biggest dogs in the state. The year before I started high school, the Rolla team got runner-up, and ever since then the following iterations had been chasing that achievement…but sadly, the furthest any team I was on only made it to the second round. Even though I had never been able to take care of unfinished business, I would have been almost equally as content to vicariously bask in any victories Jerome, et al. might attain at this year’s Hi-Q. I may have not been officially on the team that year, but I definitely was full-fledged member in spirit.

And apparently I was a little over-eager, as I had showed up to the Community College that was hosting the tryouts for the morning session, unaware that Rolla wasn’t due to give it a whirl until the afternoon session.

“Ah, what the hell, I might as well see what kinds of questions they’re asking this year,” I muttered to myself as I sat down to watch some random school do their best to field the set of 50 or so morning-session questions this particular elderly couple was about to lob at ’em. Unlike regular competition, the tryouts only featured a single team at a time in a room with two moderators–and the top 16 scores throughout the day got the privilege of partaking in the real tournament held at a later date.

“Eh, not too many of us here in the audience,” I noted as I looked around to see what appeared to be a total of 6 or 7 other random-school supporters sitting with me. “Not that it matters…”


“Oh, I’ve been here since 9 am. Where the ----- have you slackers been?” I razzed Jerome when they finally showed up. “In fact, I sat in on one of the morning tryouts…y’know trying to get a feel for what kind of questions are on the docket this year.”

“No sh*t? So what was your take?” Jerome replied. “Was it all stuff we know like the back of our hands? Or was it obscure, fancy big-city type of stuff we can expect people from Wichita to come up with?”

It was pretty clear that he was carrying on the tradition of carrying a small-school chip on his shoulder.

“Mostly stuff that we practice regularly, and you better get those questions right lest I beat yo’ ass otherwise, I simultaneously assured and threatened him.

“That’s good to hear, good to hear…”

“Oh But there were at least 2 or 3 that I had never heard before today.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jerome looked at me inquisitively. “Such as?”

“Well, since you’ll get a totally different set of questions in the afternoon session, you might as well know that Margery Williams wrote The Velveteen Rabbit,” I intimated freely.

“Really? I never had a clue who had written that children’s classic. Heck, I barely recognize the name of that book, now that you mention it.”

“Yeah, I know right? What kind of snooty left-coast question is that? Anyways, um, lemme see. Here’s a few other bits of trivia I picked up today. Did you know that…?”


“Good afternoon, Ma’am. Good afternoon, Sir,” I greeted the elderly couple as nonchalantly as I could manage.

I turned to Jerome right before I took my not-so-randomly chosen seat.

“What the ----- are they doing here?” I half-joked through gritted teeth.

“Who?” he asked with a confused look on his face.

“This old couple, man…ha, ha…what a coincidence: this is the same room I was in earlier today. With the same elderly man and woman as moderators, too.”
“Hah. That’s mirthful,” Jeremy flirted with patronizing me. “Now if you excuse me, I gots me a Hi-Q to qualify for…

“Attaboy! Go get ’em, Tiger!” I straight-up patronized him back.

We all took our seats and let the proceedings get under way. I, for one, was eager to see what the set of afternoon session questions looked like.

About 3 questions in, an internal monologue started up in my head.

“Hmm…why am I getting a sense of deja vu? Ah! Maybe it’s because the answer to this question is…”

Right about then Jerome buzzed in. In unison, we said, “The movie Groundhog Day.”

Ah, yes, already it was the classic deja-vu-themed point of cultural reference.

“Wait a minute, now this next question seems oddly…familiar,” I thought to myself about Q #4. “That’s probably because the question asked what the term was for a vampire’s assistant. So that makes sense.”

Question Five was a different story altogether.

“What British author is best known for her work…” the elderly woman paused dramatically, “The Velveteen Rabbit?”

Jeremy looked back at me chuckling in mild disbelief with a look that clearly said “You gotta be ----- kidding me!”

I kinda shrugged back at him, with the expression on my face indubitably communicating, “How was I supposed to know they were going to ask the exact same set of questions during both sessions?!?”

To which he silently replied, “Well, I can’t unknow anything I may or may not have learned in the 30 minutes before I entered this room…”

“Wait!” I mentally reached out to him like Nic Cage trying to retrieve a loose ball of bio-toxins in the movie The Rock. “Don’t answer that! That contraband information can be traced directly back to me!”

But it was too late; he had already buzzed in.

“Margery Williams…I suppose,” he said, doing his best to pretend that this was foreknown factoid for him.

He looked back at me with something of a sheepish grin, implying “What’s a guy to do?”

I just planted my face in my palm, though I quickly looked back up at him with piercing eyes in order to send him a very clear message: “We’re in this together now, you cheating mother fucker.”

He kinda nodded. “We take this to our graves?” he said only with his eyes.

I nodded back. “To our graves.”

He then looked at the elderly couple then back to me. “And the eyewitnesses?” This time there was a certain sadness in his eyes.

We were long past the point of no return by now: we were no longer the two upstanding citizens that had walked into that room. I wiped a nascent tear from my eye–they were a precious and kind old couple, after all–and steeled my resolve.

With the slightest of nods and the gaze of a man who no longer had a soul, I telegraphed to Jerome those fateful words:

“To their graves as well…”

Which was a real shame, seeing as how, despite our bumbling cheating scheme and the ensuing cover-up, in the end Rolla didn’t even qualif for Hi-Q that year…


Content created on: 9/10 March 2024 (Sat/Sun)

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