Wednesday on my walk over to class along 2nd Avenue I saw a man hail a cab. The car slowed to a stop in the general proximity of where the man was standing and I proceeded to cross over to the west side of the street. Out of nowhere a plump, cantankerous looking woman storms up to the man from behind, grabs his face, and slaps a big wet kiss on his overwhelmed, shocked face. With little worry about being late for class or getting run over by oncoming traffic I stopped in the middle of the street as the woman tried to persuade the man into giving her the cab he had just hailed. The man was nothing short of flabbergasted and tried to shoo her away as he started to enter the cab. As the man got in the woman followed behind and a sort-of cage wrestling match ensued where the man wedged himself between her and the back seat. The woman leaned in for another re-asserting kiss and at this moment the cab begins to drive away. The man and the woman fell ass backwards into the street as the cab drove off into the distance. The woman got up, dusted herself off, and walked away presumably unscathed. The man collected his things from the ground and continued trying to hail a cab. I walked on to class with the biggest smile I’ve had on my face in a long time. True Story.

Wednesday on my walk over to class along 2nd Avenue I saw a man hail a cab. The car slowed to a stop in the general proximity of where the man was standing and I proceeded to cross over to the west side of the street.

Out of nowhere a plump, cantankerous looking woman storms up to the man from behind, grabs his face, and slaps a big wet kiss on his overwhelmed, shocked face. With little worry about being late for class or getting run over by oncoming traffic I stopped in the middle of the street as the woman tried to persuade the man into giving her the cab he had just hailed. The man was nothing short of flabbergasted and tried to shoo her away as he started to enter the cab. As the man got in the woman followed behind and a sort-of cage wrestling match ensued where the man wedged himself between her and the back seat. The woman leaned in for another re-asserting kiss and at this moment the cab begins to drive away. The man and the woman fell ass backwards into the street as the cab drove off into the distance.

The woman got up, dusted herself off, and walked away presumably unscathed. The man collected his things from the ground and continued trying to hail a cab. I walked on to class with the biggest smile I’ve had on my face in a long time.

True Story.

The other week I went to Regal Cinemas (who suck, btw) and got myself a jawbreak from a machine. Motherfucker cannot be broken. I ran into a huge deli in midtown to try and get a paper bag to break it in but they didn’t have any so I stole a sheet of tinfoil sandwich wrap from the counter. I make it outside when the Mexican chef yells at me “You have to pay for dis, meighn!” I turn and say “You want me to pay for a piece of tinfoil? How much do I owe you?” The man only spoke enough English to chastize me in public so I went on my merry way, smashing my damn jawbreaker-tinfoil-comet into every building, statue and fire hyrdrant I could find. Metal, glass, porcelain, concrete, stone and whatever the fuck I felt like hitting, I cannot break this shit. It’s still in my pocket as we speak. I cannot fit it into my mouth and I’ve run out of ideas to break it. I think I might need to just buy another jawbreaker and smash them both together. True Story.

The other week I went to Regal Cinemas (who suck, btw) and got myself a jawbreak from a machine. Motherfucker cannot be broken. I ran into a huge deli in midtown to try and get a paper bag to break it in but they didn’t have any so I stole a sheet of tinfoil sandwich wrap from the counter. I make it outside when the Mexican chef yells at me “You have to pay for dis, meighn!” I turn and say “You want me to pay for a piece of tinfoil? How much do I owe you?” The man only spoke enough English to chastize me in public so I went on my merry way, smashing my damn jawbreaker-tinfoil-comet into every building, statue and fire hyrdrant I could find. Metal, glass, porcelain, concrete, stone and whatever the fuck I felt like hitting, I cannot break this shit. It’s still in my pocket as we speak. I cannot fit it into my mouth and I’ve run out of ideas to break it.

I think I might need to just buy another jawbreaker and smash them both together.

True Story.

This one time I cheated at Scrabble and won. Prize? Boobs, big ones. If I had lost? 5 episodes of the OC would have passed through my ocular receptors. True Story (Win)

This one time I cheated at Scrabble and won.

Prize? Boobs, big ones.

If I had lost? 5 episodes of the OC would have passed through my ocular receptors.

True Story (Win)

Last November I went to go see one of my favorite rock bands, AC/DC, for the first and possibly the last time in my life. My Dad and I pre-gamed Yuenglings in the parking lot and went in right around show time. This was also my brother’s first concert as well so there was a lot of Mehalick bro-power going on. While having a beer in the vestibule of the IZOD Center an Alcohol Compliance Officer, who looked somewhat akin to Drew Carey, asked me for ID. Naturally I didn’t have any and was booted from the arena at exactly the same time the show began. The cold Meadowlands air ripped at my tear-soaked, drunken face and I stood outside wondering if I’d ever get to see AC/DC and how I was going to get over the fact that i payed 90 bucks for my ticket and didn’t see one note played. So I figured fuck it, I had nothing else to do except sit in the car. I ran back to the gate I had initially entered and made up an elaborate lie about how I was supposed meet my dad and how he couldn’t possibly hear his cell phone inside the loud arena. After a while they gave me a ticket, for a seat on the floor, dead center. Not only had they let me back into an arena I had been kicked out of/banned from, they gave me a better seat. True Story.

Last November I went to go see one of my favorite rock bands, AC/DC, for the first and possibly the last time in my life. My Dad and I pre-gamed Yuenglings in the parking lot and went in right around show time. This was also my brother’s first concert as well so there was a lot of Mehalick bro-power going on. While having a beer in the vestibule of the IZOD Center an Alcohol Compliance Officer, who looked somewhat akin to Drew Carey, asked me for ID. Naturally I didn’t have any and was booted from the arena at exactly the same time the show began.

The cold Meadowlands air ripped at my tear-soaked, drunken face and I stood outside wondering if I’d ever get to see AC/DC and how I was going to get over the fact that i payed 90 bucks for my ticket and didn’t see one note played.

So I figured fuck it, I had nothing else to do except sit in the car. I ran back to the gate I had initially entered and made up an elaborate lie about how I was supposed meet my dad and how he couldn’t possibly hear his cell phone inside the loud arena. After a while they gave me a ticket, for a seat on the floor, dead center. Not only had they let me back into an arena I had been kicked out of/banned from, they gave me a better seat.

True Story.

About 3 years ago at my family’s Passover dinner, my family broke out into a spontaneous politics discussion. Since the room was filled with several liberal Jews there really wasn’t much of a debate so my Grandmother decided to bring up abortion. Everyone starts screaming at each other about ethics versus rights and so forth when my Mom says “Drew is 18 now, let him speak.” Being un-barmitzvah’d, this was my first moment of Jewish manly hood and I seized my opportunity and said something around the lines of: “It’s not a black or white issue, it’sthe right of the mother but she should know the moral implications of her actions and she should be sure she is making the right decision.” My Aunt suddenly starts crying hysterically for no reason, which I couldn’t understand considering we were both pro-choice. Thinking I said something wrong, I nervously tried to hit a point. “I mean most people are aware the consequences of their actions. I don’t think there are multiple offenders but in that case there should be counseling and therapy provided by the state to aid the mother and her decisions.” And that’s when I found out my aunt had an abortion in college. “Well, at least you didn’t have two.” Actually, she did. True story.

About 3 years ago at my family’s Passover dinner, my family broke out into a spontaneous politics discussion. Since the room was filled with several liberal Jews there really wasn’t much of a debate so my Grandmother decided to bring up abortion. Everyone starts screaming at each other about ethics versus rights and so forth when my Mom says “Drew is 18 now, let him speak.” Being un-barmitzvah’d, this was my first moment of Jewish manly hood and I seized my opportunity and said something around the lines of:

“It’s not a black or white issue, it’sthe right of the mother but she should know the moral implications of her actions and she should be sure she is making the right decision.”

My Aunt suddenly starts crying hysterically for no reason, which I couldn’t understand considering we were both pro-choice. Thinking I said something wrong, I nervously tried to hit a point.

“I mean most people are aware the consequences of their actions. I don’t think there are multiple offenders but in that case there should be counseling and therapy provided by the state to aid the mother and her decisions.”

And that’s when I found out my aunt had an abortion in college.

“Well, at least you didn’t have two.”

Actually, she did. True story.

When I was a sophomore in high school I dated this girl who was somewhat crazy. It was a snowy winter’s eve during Christmas break and I had just gotten SNL Trivial Pursuit. I brought it over to my friend’s house where my then girlfriend and some other friends were hanging out. Upon discovering that I had no intentions of devoting my full attention to her and rather Dan Akroyd trying to sell the Super Bass Matic, needless to say tensions mounted. After turning my back for a few seconds I discovered my precious gift missing. Later on my ex returned the box but not in the same condition she had taken it in when she went to hide it. To this day a giant tear down the crease of one of the corners of the box gawks outwardly to the world as if to say,”Look at this guy he clearly doesn’t care about his things.” Fuck that. The following is an inexact transcript of what happened next: ME: How could you do this? I just got this fucking thing! EX: Well maybe if you payed a little more attention to me. Who cares its a stupid game. ME: Stupid? I love this box more than I love you. Relationship over. True Story.

When I was a sophomore in high school I dated this girl who was somewhat crazy. It was a snowy winter’s eve during Christmas break and I had just gotten SNL Trivial Pursuit. I brought it over to my friend’s house where my then girlfriend and some other friends were hanging out. Upon discovering that I had no intentions of devoting my full attention to her and rather Dan Akroyd trying to sell the Super Bass Matic, needless to say tensions mounted. After turning my back for a few seconds I discovered my precious gift missing. Later on my ex returned the box but not in the same condition she had taken it in when she went to hide it. To this day a giant tear down the crease of one of the corners of the box gawks outwardly to the world as if to say,”Look at this guy he clearly doesn’t care about his things.” Fuck that. The following is an inexact transcript of what happened next:

ME: How could you do this? I just got this fucking thing!

EX: Well maybe if you payed a little more attention to me. Who cares its a stupid game.

ME: Stupid? I love this box more than I love you.

Relationship over.

True Story.

About a year ago while playing Iron Maiden’s “The Number of the Beast” on Rock Band, myself and my three friends were in top-notch form. A Performance Complete with rock star sneers and epic stage maneuvers we finished with 5 stars and a score of 666,000. The game then immediately turned off inexplicably. True Story.

About a year ago while playing Iron Maiden’s “The Number of the Beast” on Rock Band, myself and my three friends were in top-notch form. A Performance Complete with rock star sneers and epic stage maneuvers we finished with 5 stars and a score of 666,000. The game then immediately turned off inexplicably.

True Story.

Over spaghetti dinner last week my brother decided to aggravate me by not so subtly hinting to my parents that all I do after work is come home, smoke, and watch “Strangers With Candy”. I then rebuffed by commenting on the that V shape in which his sideburns had taken and their odd resemblance to that of traditional women’s pubic hair. My mom turned and looked at me and said: “You mean like the one’s I find at the bottom of the shower?” My Mom not only accused me of shaving my pubes in her shower but also hinted that she believes mine are of a feminine texture. This is dinner at my house. True Story

Over spaghetti dinner last week my brother decided to aggravate me by not so subtly hinting to my parents that all I do after work is come home, smoke, and watch “Strangers With Candy”. I then rebuffed by commenting on the that V shape in which his sideburns had taken and their odd resemblance to that of traditional women’s pubic hair. My mom turned and looked at me and said:

“You mean like the one’s I find at the bottom of the shower?”

My Mom not only accused me of shaving my pubes in her shower but also hinted that she believes mine are of a feminine texture. This is dinner at my house.

True Story

The other day, interestingly enough the same time-span in which the tumblr blog spawning Rocko’s Modern Life conversation took place, my dealer regaled me with an anecdote of how his other drug-dealer friend got screwed out of 2 grand. I asked him if he was planning to buy a gun and he said that he had mace. Later on we went to chill at his house and this is what he pulled out…true story…

The other day, interestingly enough the same time-span in which the tumblr blog spawning Rocko’s Modern Life conversation took place, my dealer regaled me with an anecdote of how his other drug-dealer friend got screwed out of 2 grand. I asked him if he was planning to buy a gun and he said that he had mace.

Later on we went to chill at his house and this is what he pulled out…true story…