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In article form: Everyone Is An Asshole

That’s right, kids: people come in all shapes and sizes, but we’re all assholes.

(Source: College Humor)

Clean Comedy in a World of Gross-Out Humor and Subtle Sex Jokes [Click for full post]
I’m appalled at the sheer amount of gross-out humor, sex jokes and dirty words being used in comedy these days. Often they’re subtle, buried deep within seemingly “clean” material, but that doesn’t excuse it. Personally, I have resisted the urge to lower myself to making immature, crass sex jokes or anything in that vein, but it’s hard to pass that test. I cull ideas from experience, like every comic, and often my pen is drawn to that low hanging fruit, so it’s a struggle to keep it clean. I’m no prude and I don’t fear the taboo, be it well-worn territory or not, but whole crap bits based on dirty words take no skill to master. Bait the hook or drag a wide net and you’ll catch a little laugh with filth, but I’d rather make it hard on myself and handle my rod like a skilled angler. I see men (and women) in the crowd who want that, too. “Challenge us, sir! Come size up our intellect and entertain us,” their pained expressions say. As a performer I want to rise to the occasion, even if that means bumping heads with those who wish to stay in an intellectual hole or chasm. Continue

Clean Comedy in a World of Gross-Out Humor and Subtle Sex Jokes [Click for full post]

I’m appalled at the sheer amount of gross-out humor, sex jokes and dirty words being used in comedy these days. Often they’re subtle, buried deep within seemingly “clean” material, but that doesn’t excuse it. Personally, I have resisted the urge to lower myself to making immature, crass sex jokes or anything in that vein, but it’s hard to pass that test. I cull ideas from experience, like every comic, and often my pen is drawn to that low hanging fruit, so it’s a struggle to keep it clean. I’m no prude and I don’t fear the taboo, be it well-worn territory or not, but whole crap bits based on dirty words take no skill to master. Bait the hook or drag a wide net and you’ll catch a little laugh with filth, but I’d rather make it hard on myself and handle my rod like a skilled angler. I see men (and women) in the crowd who want that, too. “Challenge us, sir! Come size up our intellect and entertain us,” their pained expressions say. As a performer I want to rise to the occasion, even if that means bumping heads with those who wish to stay in an intellectual hole or chasm. Continue

TLDNNR: What The Guy Who Always Puts Tomato On My Sandwich Must Be Thinking
There he goes again, off to get a Diet Snapple Lemon Iced Tea after ordering his sandwich. He must really like this deli, that guy. He’s here every other day getting the same sandwich: roast beef, swiss cheese, lettuce, mayo, salt and pepper. Sounds pretty tasty. But hold up, Miguel, what about the tomato? I wouldn’t want to forget to put the tomato on. Did he say anything about tomato… Yes! Yes he did. He said, “And please, Miguel, no tomato on the sandwich.”
It’s nice that he learned my name. So many customers here just call me “man” or “hey.” God, now that I think about it, I never took the time to learn his name. Shame on you, Miguel. Remember what your mom taught you all those years ago: being a good person takes more effort than just not being a bad person. You should ask his name next time he comes in and then write it down so you don’t forget.So I guess no tomato on his sandwich. [Find out how something as insignificant as a delicious little red fruit can symbolize an embarrassing cultural legacy for some people. Keep Reading]

TLDNNR: What The Guy Who Always Puts Tomato On My Sandwich Must Be Thinking

There he goes again, off to get a Diet Snapple Lemon Iced Tea after ordering his sandwich. He must really like this deli, that guy. He’s here every other day getting the same sandwich: roast beef, swiss cheese, lettuce, mayo, salt and pepper. Sounds pretty tasty. But hold up, Miguel, what about the tomato? I wouldn’t want to forget to put the tomato on. Did he say anything about tomato… Yes! Yes he did. He said, “And please, Miguel, no tomato on the sandwich.”

It’s nice that he learned my name. So many customers here just call me “man” or “hey.” God, now that I think about it, I never took the time to learn his name. Shame on you, Miguel. Remember what your mom taught you all those years ago: being a good person takes more effort than just not being a bad person. You should ask his name next time he comes in and then write it down so you don’t forget.

So I guess no tomato on his sandwich. [Find out how something as insignificant as a delicious little red fruit can symbolize an embarrassing cultural legacy for some people. Keep Reading]

Every Fancy Restaurant Ever [Click for full post]
Hello, my name is Pretentious Waiter. I’ll be the person who tries to guilt you into tipping me more all night. It’s annoying that you’re here. Allow me to shove this extremely large menu in your wife’s face first and now in yours. You’ll notice that even though the menu is the size of a TV, the writing is too small to be read with the naked eye. It’s also written in cursive and many of the words are in French to make you feel stupid. Continue

Every Fancy Restaurant Ever [Click for full post]

Hello, my name is Pretentious Waiter. I’ll be the person who tries to guilt you into tipping me more all night. It’s annoying that you’re here. Allow me to shove this extremely large menu in your wife’s face first and now in yours. You’ll notice that even though the menu is the size of a TV, the writing is too small to be read with the naked eye. It’s also written in cursive and many of the words are in French to make you feel stupid. Continue

TLDNR: Goddamn Cold and Flu Season [Click to read]
Streeter’s got some great old-fashioned tips that’ll improve your (spiritual) health.

TLDNR: Goddamn Cold and Flu Season [Click to read]

Streeter’s got some great old-fashioned tips that’ll improve your (spiritual) health.

TLDNR: 5 Easy Steps to Get Rid of Someone Standing Behind You While You’re on the Computer [Click for full article]
We’ve all been there! You’re sitting down at your computer to browse around, play some games, do some shopping, whatever, but then someone up and stands right behind you. They probably don’t mean any harm but it’s certainly hard to enjoy your time on the computer with Big Brother looking over your shoulder. Here’s how to get rid of anyone – a sibling, a parent, a roommate, a girlfriend, boyfriend, husband or wife – in 5 simple steps! Stacy, honey, I’m trying to do that article right now, OK? Just give me a few minutes. Please.1. Give them the time of day! Maybe the unwanted lurker just has a quick question and doesn’t want to interrupt. Turn around and say something like, “Hey! What’s up?” More often than not, the lurker will ask a question, you can answer and the situation is resloved in no time. Yeah, I know I spelled it wrong, Stacy. I’ll go back and fix it in a minute but I’m trying to get a first draft done. This is how writing works, babe, OK? You’re not a writer so you don’t really get it. Just hang in the living room and I’ll be in when I’m done. [Keep Reading]

TLDNR: 5 Easy Steps to Get Rid of Someone Standing Behind You While You’re on the Computer [Click for full article]

We’ve all been there! You’re sitting down at your computer to browse around, play some games, do some shopping, whatever, but then someone up and stands right behind you. They probably don’t mean any harm but it’s certainly hard to enjoy your time on the computer with Big Brother looking over your shoulder. Here’s how to get rid of anyone – a sibling, a parent, a roommate, a girlfriend, boyfriend, husband or wife – in 5 simple steps! Stacy, honey, I’m trying to do that article right now, OK? Just give me a few minutes. Please.

1. Give them the time of day! Maybe the unwanted lurker just has a quick question and doesn’t want to interrupt. Turn around and say something like, “Hey! What’s up?” More often than not, the lurker will ask a question, you can answer and the situation is resloved in no time. Yeah, I know I spelled it wrong, Stacy. I’ll go back and fix it in a minute but I’m trying to get a first draft done. This is how writing works, babe, OK? You’re not a writer so you don’t really get it. Just hang in the living room and I’ll be in when I’m done. [Keep Reading]

TLDNR: What if the Apocalypse Really Does Come on 12/21/12 [Click for full article]
The Mayans long ago created a calendar that is set to expire on 12/21/12. Many across the world have interpreted this as a doomsday prophecy and are flocking to areas of supposed significance, awaiting the end of times. The chance that a pre-Columbian society with an admittedly advanced understanding of heavenly motion – though not nearly as advanced as ours now – could predict the expiration date of earth more than five hundred years in the future is, to put it kindly, remote. However, as with all analysis of likelihoods, there is of course a chance that the Mayans could be correct. And that would just suck, right?!All this time we could have been having orgies, experimenting with lethal drugs and stealing military planes to go for joy rides, but, whoops, didn’t believe the Mayans! Instead of writing this stupid article I could be out eating a hundred lobsters, literally stuffing myself with lobster until my stomach walls ripped open, because, hey, why not? Or I could be stuffing you with lobsters. We could do it to each other with lobsters. At an orgy. On that military plane that flies in a parabolic arc so that the passengers achieve weightlessness. We could be doing that, but we didn’t believe the Mayans. [Keep Reading]

TLDNR: What if the Apocalypse Really Does Come on 12/21/12 [Click for full article]

The Mayans long ago created a calendar that is set to expire on 12/21/12. Many across the world have interpreted this as a doomsday prophecy and are flocking to areas of supposed significance, awaiting the end of times. The chance that a pre-Columbian society with an admittedly advanced understanding of heavenly motion – though not nearly as advanced as ours now – could predict the expiration date of earth more than five hundred years in the future is, to put it kindly, remote. However, as with all analysis of likelihoods, there is of course a chance that the Mayans could be correct. And that would just suck, right?!

All this time we could have been having orgies, experimenting with lethal drugs and stealing military planes to go for joy rides, but, whoops, didn’t believe the Mayans! Instead of writing this stupid article I could be out eating a hundred lobsters, literally stuffing myself with lobster until my stomach walls ripped open, because, hey, why not? Or I could be stuffing you with lobsters. We could do it to each other with lobsters. At an orgy. On that military plane that flies in a parabolic arc so that the passengers achieve weightlessness. We could be doing that, but we didn’t believe the Mayans. [Keep Reading]

TLDNR: A New Drinking Game - “Bartender” [Click for full rules]
One night a few months ago, a bunch of CH writers went out to celebrate Malibu Einstein ‘s birthday at a bar in Brooklyn. We decided that we should make up a drinking game as a present, so we went to work brainstorming. After a few false starts, test rounds and moderate alcohol poisoning, we had the basics of a game called Bartender. It’s a quick game that can be played by 3 – 10 people and, hopefully, will reveal embarrassing secrets about your friends. Here is how you play: 
What you need: Friends, Alcohol 
Before the game can start, the players must determine who will be the Bartender first. Odds-or-evens, rock-paper-scissors, etc. Someone must “lose” and have to be Bartender first. The rest of the players are Patrons. Now you’re ready to play! 
The Bartender first picks a subject. So in our example game, the Bartender says to the group, “I want to talk about bad first dates.” 
Next, each Patron takes a turn telling the Bartender a personal story about themselves within the topic the Bartender selected. This story can be true or false. [Keep Reading]

TLDNR: A New Drinking Game - “Bartender” [Click for full rules]

One night a few months ago, a bunch of CH writers went out to celebrate Malibu Einstein ‘s birthday at a bar in Brooklyn. We decided that we should make up a drinking game as a present, so we went to work brainstorming. After a few false starts, test rounds and moderate alcohol poisoning, we had the basics of a game called Bartender. It’s a quick game that can be played by 3 – 10 people and, hopefully, will reveal embarrassing secrets about your friends. Here is how you play: 

What you need: Friends, Alcohol 

Before the game can start, the players must determine who will be the Bartender first. Odds-or-evens, rock-paper-scissors, etc. Someone must “lose” and have to be Bartender first. The rest of the players are Patrons. Now you’re ready to play! 

The Bartender first picks a subject. So in our example game, the Bartender says to the group, “I want to talk about bad first dates.” 

Next, each Patron takes a turn telling the Bartender a personal story about themselves within the topic the Bartender selected. This story can be true or false. [Keep Reading]

TLDNR: 3 More Inventions to Change the World [Full Post]
Fathand Salsa Jar (courtesy of Mike Trapp)

What’s the worst part of eating salsa? Sharing it. But there’s nothing we can do about that, so we have to address the second worst part of eating salsa: Salsa Wrist. This problem affects 100% of salsa eaters and is a result of lazy jar design and your inability put salsa in a bowl instead of scooping it out of the jar. When the salsa level in the jar gets so low that you’re forced to plunge your hand ever deeper into it, your wrist will inevitably make contact with the walls of the jar. It’s like trying to get the funny bone out of the guy in Operation: impossible not to make contact with anything but every ounce of your concentration. This has resulted in billions of salsa-stained shirt cuffs or, worse, wrist skin cells freely mingling with what’s left of that spicy black bean and roasted corn salsa rojo. Enter the Fathand Salsa Jar! Using patented “flower pot” technology, the Fathand Salsa Jar is wider at the top than it is on the bottom. Not only will this create a larger dippable surface area but it will eliminate the scourge of Salsa Wrist. [Keep Reading]

By the way, if you have a fun invention you don’t mind giving out to the world, email it to me at Streeter.Seidell@CollegeHumor.com and I’ll include it (with credit, of course) the next time I post one of these.

TLDNR: 3 More Inventions to Change the World [Full Post]

Fathand Salsa Jar (courtesy of Mike Trapp)

What’s the worst part of eating salsa? Sharing it. But there’s nothing we can do about that, so we have to address the second worst part of eating salsa: Salsa Wrist. This problem affects 100% of salsa eaters and is a result of lazy jar design and your inability put salsa in a bowl instead of scooping it out of the jar. When the salsa level in the jar gets so low that you’re forced to plunge your hand ever deeper into it, your wrist will inevitably make contact with the walls of the jar. It’s like trying to get the funny bone out of the guy in Operation: impossible not to make contact with anything but every ounce of your concentration. This has resulted in billions of salsa-stained shirt cuffs or, worse, wrist skin cells freely mingling with what’s left of that spicy black bean and roasted corn salsa rojo. Enter the Fathand Salsa Jar! Using patented “flower pot” technology, the Fathand Salsa Jar is wider at the top than it is on the bottom. Not only will this create a larger dippable surface area but it will eliminate the scourge of Salsa Wrist. [Keep Reading]

By the way, if you have a fun invention you don’t mind giving out to the world, email it to me at Streeter.Seidell@CollegeHumor.com and I’ll include it (with credit, of course) the next time I post one of these.

TLDNR / Saying “Hi” to Tyler [Click for full post]
I’ve spent roughly half my life so far smoking cigarettes. I gave it up three or four years ago but now chain chew nicotine gum and only smoke when I’m drinking, when I’m filming something or when I feel like it. Which is all the time. I don’t even like smoking: it doesn’t taste good, I’m too old for it to look cool and my teeth are permanently a few shades closer to butter than most people find attractive. I’m sure my lungs look like the inside of a lazy stoner’s resin-caked bowl, except you can’t scrape and smoke the tar coating the inside of my body to get high… OR CAN YOU?!You can’t.Smoking my first cigarette, while extremely fun at the time, was probably the worst decision I ever made, and I have a tattoo reading “EST. 1982” on the bottom of my foot so that’s saying something. When non-smokers ask what I find so appealing about smoking I have a few stock answers I like to whip out: “When you smoke you’re never bored because you can always have a cigarette!”, “It calms me down,” and “OH, LIKEYOU'RE FUCKING PERFECT, MOM?!” But the truth is I don’t find anything appealing about smoking. I’m just addicted to nicotine and cigarettes are the easiest (and weirdly, cheapest) way to get it into my bloodstream. [Continue reading]

TLDNR / Saying “Hi” to Tyler [Click for full post]

I’ve spent roughly half my life so far smoking cigarettes. I gave it up three or four years ago but now chain chew nicotine gum and only smoke when I’m drinking, when I’m filming something or when I feel like it. Which is all the time. I don’t even like smoking: it doesn’t taste good, I’m too old for it to look cool and my teeth are permanently a few shades closer to butter than most people find attractive. I’m sure my lungs look like the inside of a lazy stoner’s resin-caked bowl, except you can’t scrape and smoke the tar coating the inside of my body to get high… OR CAN YOU?!

You can’t.

Smoking my first cigarette, while extremely fun at the time, was probably the worst decision I ever made, and I have a tattoo reading “EST. 1982” on the bottom of my foot so that’s saying something. When non-smokers ask what I find so appealing about smoking I have a few stock answers I like to whip out: “When you smoke you’re never bored because you can always have a cigarette!”, “It calms me down,” and “OH, LIKEYOU'RE FUCKING PERFECTMOM?!” But the truth is I don’t find anything appealing about smoking. I’m just addicted to nicotine and cigarettes are the easiest (and weirdly, cheapest) way to get it into my bloodstream. [Continue reading]

Brand New Columns on CollegeHumor

Hey guys! We’ve launched a bunch of new columns with a bunch of really funny writers over the last few weeks. These new series tackle everything from science to sports to sex to the benefits of alliteration. Here’s a recap of some of the new things you can look forward to:

In “Yeah Science" Malibu Einstein covers all the weird, twisted parts of science they won’t talk about on PBS

TLDNR - Essays from CH Editor, Streeter Seidell, about whatever happens to be on his mind. From cats on the Internet to fashion deja vu, TLDNR is not afraid to weigh in on any topic and, no matter what the subject, it will certainly be too long to read.

In “Regret Everything," comedian Will Hines gives a weekly update on the thoughts that are gnawing at his brain.

Every week, Chris Barth updates you on the important events in the sporting world – the ones you may have heard of and the ones you definitely missed. He’s watching the games and calling things as he sees them. This is The Ref.

Reply AllEvery Tuesday resident chill-Internet-girl Marina will answer your questions about life, love, college, sex or anything else you’ve got on your mind. There will be GIFS.


Check ‘em out!

TLDNR: Surrender, Animals! [Click to continue reading]

TLDNR: Surrender, Animals! [Click to continue reading]

TLDNR: 3 Incredible Inventions to Change the World [Click for full post]
In fourth grade my school participated in something called The Invention Convention. The idea was that every elementary school student in the country would dream up an idea, create a working model, and be ranked by an elite group of third, fourth, and fifth grade teachers who were stupid enough to volunteer to judge the competition. My invention was for a new type of mailbox that had a tray attached to the door. When you opened the door the tray would slide out with your mail on it, making it easier to grab. I got the idea after watching my dad struggle to reach into our mailbox from the car which, while funny, seemed like a setup that could be improved upon. One time he was struggling to reach so much that he farted, which was another reason my invention would be useful, as I, riding shotgun that day, was in the direct line of fire.
My father had also participated in an Invention Convention when he was a kid, but only came up with a device called the Egg Crusher, which was a hammer, secured to a piece of wood, that would drop and smash an egg. He did not place well for the fairly obvious reason that crushing an egg, should you ever need to do that, is easy enough without a hammer-wood contraption. I was determined to reclaim my family’s good name with my sliding tray mailbox idea.
As I scanned the convention hall (gym), I was fairly confident. Most kids had egg crusher-level inventions on display: hastily made devices that served no real world purpose. Mine, on the other hand, was an improvement on a device everyone in my town used daily. When it came time for the awards I was defeated by the single stupidest one in the room: An automatic bed maker. The perfect invention for a stupid kid whose worldview consisted only of their own home. The winner, who shall remain nameless except that her name was Molly Bradley, proudly accepted the award for her foolish, impractical invention while I was left with nothing but a working prototype of a revolutionary device.
By the way, sliding tray mailboxes hit the market about two years later, leading me to believe that the Invention Convention is just a ploy to steal little kids’ ideas and create them before they’re smart enough to see they’ve been robbed. I still constantly think of inventions but now, many years older, I’m not naive enough to think I can personally benefit from my thoughts. As with the rigged Invention Convention, some huge corporation will just copy my idea and I will be stuck draining my savings trying to sue them. So now I invent for invention’s sake, or because I just want these products and ideas to exist. So go ahead and steal them. I’ll ask that you cut me in on the profits but you, like the thieves who stole my mailbox ideas, will probably just play dumb.
The Rolling Suitcase Seat
I travel a lot for shows and work which means I spend a lot of time standing around, miserable, draped in heavy luggage. Should I be lucky enough to score a seat somewhere, society dictates that I, as a healthy 20-something male, must give it up to literally anyone else. I don’t want to be rude so I’m almost always stuck standing in terminals, in trains, in waiting rooms, anywhere, which is annoying because I generally don’t like supporting my own weight. But what if I always had my own chair? What if my rolling suitcase could be turned into a little personal seat that I wouldn’t have to give up to anyone? Dream no longer!



All the elements are there: the top of the bag is the seat and the retractable handle is the back board. You don’t want your chair sliding all over the place so there is a kickstand-like device that will deploy a small set of legs, similar to how you park a moped. Finally! A way to not have to give old ladies a seat! [Continue reading]

TLDNR: 3 Incredible Inventions to Change the World [Click for full post]

In fourth grade my school participated in something called The Invention Convention. The idea was that every elementary school student in the country would dream up an idea, create a working model, and be ranked by an elite group of third, fourth, and fifth grade teachers who were stupid enough to volunteer to judge the competition. My invention was for a new type of mailbox that had a tray attached to the door. When you opened the door the tray would slide out with your mail on it, making it easier to grab. I got the idea after watching my dad struggle to reach into our mailbox from the car which, while funny, seemed like a setup that could be improved upon. One time he was struggling to reach so much that he farted, which was another reason my invention would be useful, as I, riding shotgun that day, was in the direct line of fire.

My father had also participated in an Invention Convention when he was a kid, but only came up with a device called the Egg Crusher, which was a hammer, secured to a piece of wood, that would drop and smash an egg. He did not place well for the fairly obvious reason that crushing an egg, should you ever need to do that, is easy enough without a hammer-wood contraption. I was determined to reclaim my family’s good name with my sliding tray mailbox idea.

As I scanned the convention hall (gym), I was fairly confident. Most kids had egg crusher-level inventions on display: hastily made devices that served no real world purpose. Mine, on the other hand, was an improvement on a device everyone in my town used daily. When it came time for the awards I was defeated by the single stupidest one in the room: An automatic bed maker. The perfect invention for a stupid kid whose worldview consisted only of their own home. The winner, who shall remain nameless except that her name was Molly Bradley, proudly accepted the award for her foolish, impractical invention while I was left with nothing but a working prototype of a revolutionary device.

By the way, sliding tray mailboxes hit the market about two years later, leading me to believe that the Invention Convention is just a ploy to steal little kids’ ideas and create them before they’re smart enough to see they’ve been robbed. I still constantly think of inventions but now, many years older, I’m not naive enough to think I can personally benefit from my thoughts. As with the rigged Invention Convention, some huge corporation will just copy my idea and I will be stuck draining my savings trying to sue them. So now I invent for invention’s sake, or because I just want these products and ideas to exist. So go ahead and steal them. I’ll ask that you cut me in on the profits but you, like the thieves who stole my mailbox ideas, will probably just play dumb.

The Rolling Suitcase Seat

I travel a lot for shows and work which means I spend a lot of time standing around, miserable, draped in heavy luggage. Should I be lucky enough to score a seat somewhere, society dictates that I, as a healthy 20-something male, must give it up to literally anyone else. I don’t want to be rude so I’m almost always stuck standing in terminals, in trains, in waiting rooms, anywhere, which is annoying because I generally don’t like supporting my own weight. But what if I always had my own chair? What if my rolling suitcase could be turned into a little personal seat that I wouldn’t have to give up to anyone? Dream no longer!

TLDNR: 3 Incredible Inventions to Change the World - Image 5

All the elements are there: the top of the bag is the seat and the retractable handle is the back board. You don’t want your chair sliding all over the place so there is a kickstand-like device that will deploy a small set of legs, similar to how you park a moped. Finally! A way to not have to give old ladies a seat! [Continue reading]

TLDNR: It’s Time to Evolve [Click to continue reading]

TLDNR: It’s Time to Evolve [Click to continue reading]