In a world where no one wants to offend anyone else for fear of getting their butt kicked and being called a racist, one game tossed that kind of political correctness to the curb and beat it with a baseball bat. That game is Cowboys & Indians. It’s the racially charged version of Cops & Robbers and if Native Americans saw the game being played they’d be pissed, some may even say ‘scalping mad.’ No offense to my Native American readers, but this may be a section that you may want to skip if you don’t enjoy being stereotyped by bros. Just so you know, I do love Native Americans, in fact my favorite college football team is the Florida State Seminoles. But I apologize if you’re offended.

Possibly the most obviously racist part of the game is the noise that that is made by those who are the Indians. It’s created by taking one of your hands and cupping it just a bit, then you proceed to smack your mouth while making a noise that transforms your seemingly monotone sound into the noise that Indians apparently make. For future reference this noise will be called the “Abwabwa noise.” I’m assuming that while a group of Cowboys were out roaming the land, herding their cattle, they came across a tribe of Indians while they were doing some sort of rain dance. The cowboys heard the noises being made by the Indians and herded their cattle back to the ranch where the attempted to tell people what they had heard. Their pitiful efforts to recreate the noise have now caused generations of bros to think that Indians sound like people who are riding on a vibrating bed.

During a spirited match of Cowboys and Indians you can always tell which of your bros are the most patriotic. If they fight to be the Cowboys and say if you make them an Indians they’ll quit, these bros will be the ones protecting our borders in the future. They may also be a little bit racist, so you’ll have to run other tests throughout your friendship with them to get to the real truth of the matter. For instance, if everytime someone asks who knows a funny joke and they jump up and shout out a racist one, well they’re probably a bit racist. But the team they choose in Cowboys & Indians is going to be the earliest indicator of their racial preferences.

I’ve always been confused as to how someone actually wins the game of Cowboys & Indians since you can really kill anyone seeing as that’s considered illegal in our modern court systems. So if no blood of the other team will be shed, how do you know if the gun you’ve been making with your fingers and firing by saying “POW” is actually loaded? It’s quite the conundrum. I feel like if this principle of shooting was applied to real life then the old gangster events probably would be more humorous than they actually are and it’d be much easier to kill people who bad mouth you. (However, I do not condone the killing of those who bad mouth you.) Plus everyone except for hand or arm amputees would be packing heat at all times and I just don’t think that’s safe.

The real lesson here is that just because you make up a game in which people only pretend to be those of other ethnicities, it’s still pretty easy to construe it as racism. So watch out, play cops and robbers instead.

I was unaware that Canandian were even on people’s purchase radar. All I can say is that I am personally not in the market for one.

Trapped in a cage like a wild animal, being thrown around like a rag doll tied to the tail of a bucking bronco, my head smacking the pad. This wasn’t even really padding; it was more like an attempt to be padding that had miserably failed. If you’re ever wondering what Hell is like, may I suggest strapping yourself into this ride that barely passed the safety code. Some call this ride the Zipper. I think that “Torture Device” is a name better suited for it.

Why I ever agreed to get on this ride in the first place is a mystery that not even Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys and Scooby-Doo could solve. I knew that in the back of my mind I would regret it, I just didn’t know how badly.

When I got to the Troy Daze, an annual fair held in the city of Troy, I heard my stomach grumble and I realized that I needed something to eat. So, like any normal teenage boy, i pulled out the wad of hundred dollar bills from my pocket and bought a cheeseburger. On said cheeseburger I asked for grilled onions, which are better than any condiment you can add, as well as a side order of chili cheese fries that I paired together quite nicely with a Coca-Cola classic. It would definitely be one of the things I order in my death row final meal, which I hope to have to never order, no matter how delicious it may be. Unfortunately, at the time, I had no idea of the wrath that this meal would take out on me.

Just to get everything in my stomach all nice an churned up I decided, which much persuasion from my friends, to take a ride on the Orbiter. (One of the many choices that I would later come to completely regret at the days end.) Like an egg in a mixing bowl I was spun around and beaten into a pulp. When I walked off the ride I had about as much balance as an Irish man on Saint Patrick’s Day walking on a balance beam. I took a few minutes to sit down, keep my burger in my stomach and regain my composure. When I was finally not seeing two of everything I rejoined my friends who were playing games run by carnies who are about as excited to be there as a little kid is at a funeral.

My friends said, “Hey, we’re going on the Zipper, wanna come?” Just for the record they didn’t all say the same words simultaneously, that would’ve been creepy. I looked at the Zipper from my standing place on the fair grounds. It was shaped like a hot dog. Except, unlike I normal hot dog, it was forty feet high and was covered in a bunch of two person cages. All I had to do was say no; it wouldn’t have been that hard. But, no, I just had to open my big mouth and utter the words that, if asked the question again, I will never repeat. “Sure, I’ll go,” I said. That was a mistake.

Why? Why did I have to say sure? I knew I didn’t mean it. Sadly, it didn’t matter; I was already in the line, mentally preparing myself to face the horrible fate that awaited me. Slowly, every cage was brought to the bottom and it’s prisoners were freed. When I walked up to the front of the line the cage came down but no one got out. Confused, I asked the carny, “Why wasn’t anyone in that cage?”

I was not prepared for his answer.

The carny looked at me and, in an attempt to pretend that he majored in something really difficult in college, he said, “Well, some kid was ridin’ in it and he kinda threw up, but I hosed it down and I think it’s clean.” I immediately turned around, grabbed my friend standing closest to me and pushed him in front of me. I thought that I’d get on the next one instead, but my efforts were for naught. I realized that the cages hold two people and all I had really done was put myself in place to be that second rider. So, I reluctantly stepped in to the four by five foot chamber of death. The carny gave me a strange look as he locked the cage and sent me up to face the longest, most torturous fifteen minutes of my young life.

I closed my eyes, grabbed onto the cage in front of me and propped my head against the wannabe pad. My cell mate thought it would be funny to try and spin the cage while we waited for the ride to start. I wasn’t having that. I showed him my anger by giving him a swift, solid punch to his kidney region. He laughed and giggled like a fifth grader after a quality bathroom joke. I became a bit more angry so I closed my eyes once again and tried to go to a “happy place.” Then it started to spin and the “happy place” I was trying to get to completely disappeared. I clenched tight to the metal cage and prayed that some little kid in another cell would scream and make them stop the ride. That scream never came. But my own did. It wasn’t so much a scream as just an attempt to be manly yet still show how much I hated the ride and how terrified I truly was at the moment.

I couldn’t think about anything except for how fast it was going and how many rotations we were doing in that little death trap. The kid with me continued his giggling while trying to make our metal cubicle spin faster and faster. He looked at me and saw my face of pure disgust which he responded to by saying, “Dude, if you’re going to throw up, throw up to your right.” Before I could say anything back, the ride stopped. I was so relieved and almost couldn’t contain my joy. Until the ride started up again. At that point the joy I had didn’t need to be contained since it had been crushed by the fact that the ride had restarted. What made it even worse was that it began to go backwards.

It kept going backwards and I couldn’t figure out which way was up, or down for that matter. For the next five minutes I sat there basically holding back tears from feeling so dizzy, angry and sick inside. After what felt like an eternity, the ride stopped, for good this time. All the cages went to the bottom and let their innocent victims off two by two. For everyone the ride was like a McDonald’s breakfast, no one finished and said, “Man, I’m so glad I did that to my body.” I was so excited to get out of that torture chamber it was ridiculous. I jumped and thought about choking out the carny for making that ride go for as long as it did, but instead I ran, well I staggered, over to a huge tree and I laid in the shade underneath it.

Lying on my back, staring up at the clouds, I tried not reminisce about the events that took place in the last fifteen minutes of my life. I was suffering from a head/stomach/throat ache that not even a Vicodin and Pepto-Bismol smoothie would be able to make go away. To take my mind off of the pain I just stared up at the clouds and I tried to make images out of those big white fluff balls in the sky. I saw a bunny, a boat, and then the Zipper. I couldn’t get the horridness of that ride out of my mind. How it spun and shook. How it made me wish I had never been born. Curse that ride.

I decided that it would be best to just close my eyes and go to the “happy place” I had tried to get to earlier. Again, I was stopped short. This time it was because of a group of girls who were helping their dear friend get off of a different spinning ride that this fair offered. They sat her down on a bench that I could see from where I was sitting under my tree and she got sick. Ah, yes, just what I need, a visual of someone getting sick while I, myself, am trying to keep from getting sick. I closed my eyes again and tried to block out the sound of homegirl losing her lunch, all over the ground.

About an hour later I was woken up by one of my friends and informed that we were leaving. “Thank the Lord,” I exclaimed. With a little help from my friends I got up the strength to walk all the way to the car that was parked at the other side of the fair. I hopped in the back to see that there were no chairs, which was perfect for me. I stretched out my legs and laid down in the back of the Chrysler Town & Country. I didn’t fall asleep but it was a lot more comfortable than the wood chips under the tree. When I got home I went straight to bed and it was lights out from there until dinner time. Thus ending one of the most horrible days I have ever experienced.

erinandersen:

Stand by Me

I like it

Definitely one of my favorite youtube videos ever. Very well done.

claymachine:

GET A LIFE.

That’s my favorite part of the whole thing.

Possibly the funniest thing Edge has ever created.

Why won’t he eat it? Why was this the first question to appear in the google search? How many people want to know this? There are just so many questions that go along with the questions presented by the google search.

thisiswhyyourefat:

Bagel Bite Burgers

Mini burgers with Bagel Bites for buns.

(Submitted by Andy Shank)

So AWESOME!!!!!! I think I’m going to try that some day. Most likely when I’m off at college.

Ahhh the many pleasures of the local Salvation Army bathroom. Not one expense is spared, one luxury left out. It truly is a privilege to walk into a lavatory like this without having to be forced to buy anything at such a high-end, expensive shop such as Salvo. They even have artwork on the walls, and a small table for you to set down whatever it is that you would to set down during your time in the bathroom. Another bonus is getting to wash your hands with top of the line, strawberry scented body wash that is freely supplied for you by the store. They also supply a nice beach towel that has been donated by someone who you don’t know, nor do you know the beaches that they frequent. Which leaves the imagination free to wander that it may been sun-bathed upon by any number of gorgeous models, or that it stopped at beaches in Jamaica, the South of France, and even Michigan. For all you know, you could be drying your hands with the towel that Halle Berry took on vacation with her to Barbados. Hey, it’s possible.

When all is said and done, just feel honored that you could use a bathroom as exquisite and elegant as the one at Salvation Army on Opdyke Road just north of South Boulevard.

Here’s what I’ve eaten over the last 48 hours.

1 Strawberry Smoothie made by my madre - About 155 Calories.

2 Large Frosties from Wendy’s - 1060 Calories

1 Watermelon Sour Patch - By it’s lonesome - 7.14 Calories - (Yep, I’m a big eater)

2 Cups of Chicken Pot Pie Soup from Zoups - 420 Calories

1 Chunk of Cookie Cake - 150 Calories

1 Piece of Multigrain Bread - 150 Calories

Total Calories - 1942.14 - This is the recommended daily calorie intake for someone my size who is trying to lose weight. I am not that someone.

It’s safe to say that I’m pretty sick. However, when half of the diet is made up of Frosties, I must be reaping the benefits of being sick.

Either way, I’m very ready to be un-sick and get back to eat like the grown man I am.

Friday 10:00 pm: Went and let out a family friend’s dog with my buddy Jesse.

Friday 10:30 pm: Got home and went up to my bedroom because I began to feel kind of sick. I decided to watch the movie Bottle Rocket (classic) and then just fall asleep to get rid of this possible sickness. My plan didn’t come to fruition.

Friday 11:30 pm: After changing my mind and watching an episode of Flight of the Conchords instead of Bottle Rocket, I rolled over to go to sleep.

Friday 11:45 pm: Not that I had put too much effort into falling asleep, but after 15 minutes of nothing, I switched locations to the basement which is where I usually fall asleep. I got down there and saw that my brother & sister were watching Twilight. (Insert un-enthusiastic “Hooray” here) So I hopped over to the next room, shut the doors and set up shop on the floor. Unfortunately, I could still here the movie. I got up and grabbed a fan, which I turned on to drown out the noise of the film. It worked. I fell asleep.

Saturday 12:50 am: I awoke from my lack-luster hour of sleep, went to the bathroom and then got back in my makeshift bed. Within 20 minutes I fell asleep again. Sweet.

Saturday 3:40 am: After a dream about making bread, I’m awake, again. I had fallen asleep with a sweatshirt on, but woke up with it at my feet. I was freezing, but also on fire. At this moment I realized that I had a fever. Awesome. I grabbed my things and went back up to my bedroom.

Saturday 5:00 am: At this time I had been laying in my bed for a little over an hour and hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. I picked up my things and made the move downstairs to my main floor. I got on the couch and turned on the TV. At 5:00 am there is just so much quality television to watch. After seeing infomercial after infomercial about what to buy to fit into my old clothes and what kind of juicer will yield the best product I found something worth watching. Unruly teenagers being whipped into shape by very strict parents. That’s some worthwhile TV right there.

Saturday 7:00 am: I changed location once again to my bed upstairs. Sadly, I couldn’t get comfortable and didn’t fall asleep for another half hour.

Saturday 8:30 am: Woke up and went to the bathroom Got back in bed and my pops came in to see how I was doing. He brought me some motrin and a glass of water, which I took but had some trouble swallowing because of the pain. I then turned on my clock radio that sounds like the ocean. I got a little more beauty sleep after that.

Saturday 11:30 am: I dozed in and out of sleep from 8:30 until 11:30, but at this time I decided to give up on sleeping and move to the couch on the main floor. I flipped on the tube and college football was on. This is the only reason I was glad to be sick on a Saturday.

Saturday 11:30 am - Saturday 8:00 pm: I moved from the couch a few times during the day. My only destination? The bathroom. I must have watched about 10 different football games during this time, including watching my favorite team, Florida State, get stomped by Tim Tebow and the Florida Gators. I kind of expected that outcome though. Around 8 I tried to sleep, and I did for a bit.

Saturday 9:45 pm: After a nice little nap I arose again, watched some more football and drank the recommended amount of Nyquil so that I could fall asleep. I’m not sure how well it worked because I felt like I was awake for quite awhile after taking it. My parents had been gone all night, but when they came home they brought along a large frosty from Wendy’s. I ate it and for the first time all day my throat felt soothed.

Sunday 12:00 am: I finally fell asleep while laying on the floor.

Sunday 6:45 am: The longest streak of sleep in the last 20+ hours. I got up and took a pee. Then moved to the couch and slept until about 10. Thank you Nyquil.

If I could guess I would have to say that Sunday will be the same. Except that college football will be replaced with the NFL. I’m excited. (Except not at all.)