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As some of you know, it’s hard being popular. So many people want so much of your time and there’s just not enough to go around. Split between going to all the hottest movies, hanging out, shopping, sports, and (ugh) school, your time is important and deciding who gets the majority of it is just one of those things you have to learn as you grow older. That’s why God gave us outsourcing. Now you can outsource some of those “I-know-this-person-but-not-well-enough-to-use-my-daytime-minutes” friendships to call centers in India in order to keep your busy social life moving at the most efficient pace possible. Our eager technicians are standing by to share some of the burden of your full social life. So go ahead, dump the dead weight with the Outsource your Friendship to India hotline at 267-436-5128.

Here’s what some of our satisfied customers had to say:

“I like Ashleigh a lot, but when she calls she whines for hours about how fat she thinks she is. I decided to outsource our friendship to India and now I have time to spend with my family again!”

-Melanie F.

“I used the Outsource your Friendship to India line to get my girlfriend to stop bugging me with retarded little details about her day. Now I don’t have to pretend to be interested in Ashleigh’s lip gloss selection because some guy in Bangalore is doing it all for me! Thank God for outsourcing!”

-David L.

“I was given the outsource number twice in the past two weeks and now Prakash Bhandankar is my new best friend and boyfriend and he’s a whole lot better at both than the other two a-holes that gave me his number.”

-Ashleigh C.

Number of the Week: Father’s Day Hotline – 202-629-9234

There has been a lot of controversy surrounding the word “motherf*cker.” Mostly because it simultaneously invokes the images of sex and your mom, a crime that will soon be punishable by death or castration (though I’d personally opt for death). But if you’ve ever had the talk about the birds and the bees, then you know that at some point, your mom got it on. It may even have been with the man you’ve come to know as your father. I don’t know. I haven’t seen the paternity test results on Maury yet. The point is that I don’t think “motherf*cker” is as bad a word as once believed. At its core, it means “one who f*cks or has f*cked a mother.” This happens to be an accurate description of most of our fathers. Obviously, if you’re one of the less than 1% of the population that was immaculately conceived (I’m looking at you, Obama), most of this doesn’t apply to you. Go put an end to world hunger or something. The rest of you, read on and call 202-629-9234 to get a better idea of where I’m coming from. Following this logic, we wouldn’t be here today if our dads hadn’t been motherf*ckers. So why do we consider this to be such a bad thing? Why cover our proud heritage with taboo? It makes no sense. Some of the most well-known modern users of this classic “swear word” have popularized the word’s negative meaning: Eminem calling Sasha Baron Cohen’s Bruno a motherf*cker at the latest MTV Movie Awards, Bruce Willis addressing terrorists as motherf*ckers immediately before placing them on a one-way express train to hell, and Samuel L. Jackson…well… in every aspect of his everyday life, I assume. I’m pretty sure he drops F-bombs when he’s picking up his kids from daycare. He’s Samuel L. Jackson. He doesn’t give a f*ck.

Pictured: Samuel L. Jackson not giving a f*ck.

 Until Dad Overhears me Using Cuss Words,

DeVon

‘Tis the season of graduations. And come this fall, some of you will be leaving the nest and going off to college to learn to become responsible, mature young adults. So, in order to help you prepare for this, I  have been asked by the higher-ups to give you some advice based on my personal experience with the collegiate lifestyle. This is what I have to tell you: college is one of the best things you’ll ever experience. Think of it as a four year Mardi Gras before the lifelong Ash Wednesday of adulthood. If I had to sum up college in just one phrase it would be “sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll…and class.” But this seemingly endless party can easily go down in a flaming mass of twisted metal of shattered shot glasses. By failing all your classes, losing your scholarship, and being forced to drop out and dig out the sh*t particles that have been ground into the tiles of gas station restrooms for the rest of your life? Well…yeah, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the possibility of being stuck with one of these: the four people you’ll eventually room with in college!

 1) The Slob. Sure, everyone makes a mess at one point. You might leave some toothpaste in the sink, leave your gym socks on the floor, or forget to get that banana out of your desk drawer, but The Slob takes messiness to an Olympic level. Devoid of any detectable sense of smell or decency, The Slob will accumulate crap and mature it to garbage. Garbage that will ferment and emanate an odor so fierce that you will be forced to call in a forensic expert to make sure The Slob hasn’t become The Psychotic Collector of Human Body Parts.

Not pictured: Your indignation

2) The Alcoholic. Drinking is an integral part of college. On most campuses, games of beer pong and Edward 40 Hands are more popular than Badminton and Ultimate Frisbee combined so it may take a while to recognize The Alcoholic. But, much like the quiet plea for help in Lindsay Lohan’s eyes, once you’ve seen it, you’ll wonder how you ever missed it.

Somewhere in there is a frightened little girl...chugging a Corona.

It may start off small with a few drinks at parties to ease the tension of meeting new people, but eventually The Alcoholic will come to rely on Devil’s water to get through a few less notable occasions. Like showers. Since this roommate will spend most of his or her time unconscious or looking for a party, the only real issue here is knowing when to call the ambulance and when your roommate is just sleeping.

3) The Sex Robot. The Sex Robot’s name is self-explanatory. Sex is its primary function and everything else is secondary to getting more of that sweet, sweet lovin’. It eats only to fuel its boot-knocking ways. It goes to the gym only to prolong its shelf life. It studies only to discover new ways to screw. It wipes its ass only to… well, you get the point. Living with The Sex Robot, you will come to be familiar with the correct usage of many obscure, sex-related terms such as the rock climber, the double-breasted baboon, the Muddy Ramirez, poodle balling, and, the term you will be most intimately familiar with, sexile. Yes, The Sex Robot will spend many a long night grinding away at premarital bliss in your tiny dorm room (and probably inyour bed) while you spend hours furiously masturbating in the library bathroom fantasizing about the touch of another human being.

4) The Neat Freak. One of the perks of going to college is not having your mom tell you to pick up your underwear anymore. The Neat Freak suffers a tragic internal malfunction that doesn’t allow for such “responsibilities” to slide. Please note that you will NEVER be clean enough for The Neat Freak. There can be no compromise. You must simply learn to tolerate a certain level of bitching that you will return to every night until you’ve either moved away or choked The Neat Freak to death with a pair of your dirty gym socks. Consider it practice for being married.

I hope you’ve found this useful. And if you haven’t then you’re probably type number five: The Ungrateful Snob.

Until someone in my personal life recognizes themselves in this post and pushes me out into traffic,

DeVon