5 Places Where You Lose Your Socks

I don't care it you're white, black, orange, purple, tall, skinny, fat, short, or any other attribute - EVERYONE loses their socks at some point. You go out and buy a pack of eight pairs of socks, and within a week you have a total of five foot snuggies. Where do these socks go!? This question rivals other great mysteries, like whether aliens exist, or if Daniel Tosh is gay or not. While we may never know for my certain, I apply my knowledge and expertise to attempt to answer the unknown.

The Dryer Monster
Not to be confused with the Loch Ness Monster or Oprah, the Dryer Monster is a savage and heartless beast. The Dryer Monster is relentless in its consumption of socks. One may wash four socks and take out two. No one knows where they went during that 47-minute spin cycle. The Dryer Monster has claimed many victims and left innocent bystanders wearing tacky, unmatching pairs of socks over their stanky feet. This invincible creation is unknown in its origins, but one thing for certain is that we may never be able to defeat him or even see him in wild sock feast. Avoid this neanderthal like a rabid homeless man.

The Creepy Man Looking Into Your Window
Have you ever looked out your window at night to see a bearded man licking his lips and fingering his belly button while grunting, "get in there nice and deep like" under his breath? That same man may be responsible for the theft of your beloved toe blankets. This man will go through hell and high water to get a whiff of your undies, so what makes you think he won't grab a sock or fourteen? Keep an eye for this rapist weirdo. At first he may just be hiding in closet, but soon he may be taking large steps to get into your sock drawer to sniff your precious toe jam scent.

The Washer-To-Dryer Transfer
This may be the most logical explanation for this unspoken phenomenon. I can't tell you the amount of times I've dropped small articles of clothing when taking them from the washer to the dryer, and for some reason no one knows what happens when a sock is dropped. You might as well have dropped it in the Grand Canyon or Glenn Beck's endless esophagus. Once an article of foot clothing is dropped during the daring transfer, you're never getting it back, so simply accept it, and be wary next time you transfer loads. No sock left behind.

In A Randos Room
It's 2:47am and the bars are closing, just as you are closing the deal with the hot chick whose name you've already forgotten. You take a taxi back to her place, because you've also forgotten your address, you sloppy mess. You arrive at her place and faster than you can say "dryer monster," you're more naked than the day you were born. Fast forward six hours now as you're scrambling to escape her bedroom without her noticing. You get the essentials; pants, underwear, shirt, shoes, sock... wait, where's the other sock!? Who knows, time to get the hell out of here! It is said that 1 in every 23 sock related casualties are from this awful fate. What happened to no sock behind? Get your shit together and keep your clothes accounted for next time you bump an ugly.

Under ________________
I've found socks under beds, desks, clothes, sofas, and even one that was attached to my dogs stomach by static electricity. Crevices underneath anything in your living quarters are sock magnets. How do they end up there? Only Sock God knows. This has dumbfounded college professors and trophy wives for years. The only way to discover them is by doing a routine sock check by inspecting underneath any possible hiding spot for your foot friends. Who cares if it's dusty, smells like a burning tire covered with pubic hair, and was laying next to your dead hamster Pookie? It's nothing a quick wash cycle can't fix... unless you lose it during the washer-to-dryer transfer.

Remember... No sock left behind.

@CanadaInAmerica

The Burrito Bowl Diaries

6/4/2012

2:33pm

I walk into a Chipotle in Columbus, Ohio, yearning for something new. As an avid burrito fan, I decided to throw caution into the wind and try a burrito bowl. All the cool kids are doing it, so why not jump the bandwagon?

2:35pm

It's finally my turn to order. The hippie with dreadlocks kindly asks, "What will you be havin', bro?" I respond, "Bro, I'll have a chicken burrito bowl with the tortilla in it, bro!" The bro toasts my heavenly tortilla as my mouth salivates like a 13-year-old boy watching porn for the first time. The tortilla is finished and the soft flat bread is placed in the paper mache bowl. The hippie tortilla prince asks if I will need a lid. I respectfully decline.

2:36pm

After accepting chicken and extra white rice into my bowl, I now add cheese, lettuce, and smidgen of hot chili salsa. Not a lot, just a smidgen. The cashier goddess asks for $6.36. I tell her to hold her goddamn horses because I want a fountain drink. I stare through the soul of the cashier as she rings me up correctly, cup in hand. I've won this battle.

2:37pm

After filling up my cup with lemonade, the sweet, sweet nectar of the lemon gods, I sit down at a table for two. I inspect my surroundings. I see a large man picking his nose.

2:38pm

I ready everything for my first bite. My palms are sweaty. My legs won't stop shaking. I man up and thrust my fork into the garden of food that is my burrito bowl. I take the sampling and insert it into my mouth and begin chewing. Delicious.

2:39pm

I decide that it is worth another bite. I do so, and before you know it I'm eating this bowl.

2:41pm

Halfway done. I don't feel full. The large man is still picking his nose. I'm very thirsty and refill my cup with the lemon gods nectar.

2:42pm

I sit back down and continue eating my burrito bowl.

2:44pm

I'm about 3/4ths done and I still don't feel that full. I pull a maneuver I've seen performed only by burrito bowl experts. I take my fluffy tortilla, encase its contents, and begin eating it that way. The large man has ceased picking his nose.

2:46pm

I devour this ball of yum like a lion mauling a zebra on Animal Planet. The bowl has finally been conquered, sans a few grains of rice that didn't make the voyage into my body.

2:47pm

I leave Chipotle, raise both hands, and scream like a hyena. I did it. I've beaten the burrito bowl.

4:14pm

The burrito bowl exits my body. I tweet while on the toilet.

THE REVIEW:
While the burrito bowl was delicious, it still does not compete with the behemoth burrito. I always struggle to finish the burrito, while the burrito bowl left me slightly empty. I felt like a gas tank filled up only 87% of the way. A burrito tops me off. I may attempt another burrito bowl in the future, but I will stick with my signature burrito for the time being.

@CanadaInAmerica

Why Graduating College Is Awesome

Too many 21 and 22-year olds complain about the harsh reality of having to graduate college and step into the real world. What's so bad about that? Sure, you can't wake up at 7am on Tuesday to polish off a case before going to your business ethics class where the professor rambles on about his failed marriages. There's too many positives about graduating to cancel the fun parts of college out. Let me explain with the top 10 reasons:

-You don't have to be poor. If you're lucky you'll have a decent paying job, so you should no longer be living 10000000% below the poverty line. Being poor is amusing for a bit, but funding your inevitable alcoholism gets pricey. College is an excuse to be poor, but the life afterwards allows you to not have to dig through your cough cushions for enough change to grab a 40oz. Enjoy saving your money and doing cool important things with it, like investing in the stock market or buying personal strippers.

-You get to leave behind the stupid people. I don't know about you, but I've had a lot of classes with a lot of the same people. Some of those people suck, and I can't wait to leave them behind in the dust. They're annoying, they smell, and they make you want to hump a razor. Never having to see people you can't stand is a great feeling that you undergrad dorks can't enjoy, so think of me next time you're stuck sitting next to the kid who farts a lot and eats his boogers. (fun fact: I've had to sit next to that kid one. Nothing better than calling out a kid eating his boogers in the middle of a class)

-No more shitty college food. Campus food sucks ass, it's a well-known fact. Being poor after moving off campus sucks too, because all you can afford is grilled cheese, mac and cheese, and every other combination of something and cheese. I'm sick of having diarrhea after eating crappy pizza or the chef's special personally. I'd rather enjoy my pinot grigio and salmon than your shitty fish sticks.

-No more homework. From now on, we get paid for doing work! No more 16-page papers on why velvet feels better than nylon or other stupid assignments. Bling bling, bitches! Work may be considered homework, but it's not homework if you get paid. See point #1, loser. When you see my ass back at Homecoming, you bet I'll be arriving by limo and walking out in an all suede suit pumping Rick Ross.

-Walk of shame. Everyone's done it. There's nothing better/worse than walking across campus in last night's clothes and sex hair waving to all your friends who already know what you were up to (and who you were in) last night. While it's great kicking someone out of your bed after a little morning action, it's not so fun when you're walking across campus in high heels at 9am. From now on, your hookups can be as anonymous as you want! When you bump your uglies, literally no one has to know! What a great feeling.... if you know what I mean.

-No more loud dorm sex. Ever try to go to sleep and you hear your nerdy roommate next door is going to poundtown with some broad? It sucks. Literally. There's no more of that. The only screeching moans you'll ever have to hear are when you personally decide to take a trip to poundtown. What a relieving feeling. No one has to make fun of the funny noises you made last night! You can keep your squeaks and shouts to yourself, so let loose.

-Gifts. Graduating college is a big deal, so it's time to reap the rewards! Grandma and grandpa are of course sending some cash your way as well as some gifts from your parents. It may be kinda selfish but screw it, you're an alumni and you bet your beautiful little ass you should be rewarded for four years of (hopefully) hitting the books!

-Graduation parties. The time between the last final exam ever and the commencement ceremonies are a time of debauchery. It's a well known fact that graduation parties rival the first week back and Homecoming as all-day fun fests full of good times and bad decisions. You may not remember partying with your friends for one last time but they'll always remember your graduation weekend where you streaked around the house and threw up on cop!

-No more dumb classes. Let's be real with ourselves - you were playing Angry Birds or creeping on ex-hookups on Facebook more than you were paying attention in class. No more going to classes after graduation! You can now do all of those in the privacy of your bachelor pad. Classes were the epitome of hell for four years, but now they can kiss your ass. Never getting to see the professor who talked about his cats all the time ever again is also a plus.

-You get a cool piece of paper. Eh, nevermind, I guess it's not that cool. Scratch this one and read about walks of shame again.

Math For Dummies: The 6/2(2+1) Equation

This simple math equation has been sweeping the interbuttz as a boss level troll. I'm so sick of seeing this damn thing everywhere. It's on message boards and forums, and even made it's way to Facebook and Twitter.

Now, it's making its' first and only visit to this blog.

Let's review, since too many of you we're sitting there with awkward boners in class when they were reviewing PEMDAS.

P = parentheses

E = exponent

M = multiplication

D = division

A = addition

S = subtraction

That's the order of operations. Now, if you remember correctly (which you don't), when you would see this equation, you would start by doing anything in parentheses first, followed by doing anything with an exponent. Here's the part that messes with people because they were too busy staring at the teacher's ass instead of PAYING ATTENTION.

The stupidity... it hurts.

You can "group" multiplication and division together, as you can group addition and subtraction together. When multiple operations of these groups exist (i.e. you'll have to multiply/divide more than once), you go from left to right, NOT MULTIPLYING EVERYFUCKINGTHING FIRST, THEN DIVIDING EVERYFUCKINGTHING AFTER YOU MULTIFUCKINGPLY.

6/2(2+1)

6/2(3)

6/6

1

We did it! We're correct! Right?

NO, DUMBASS.

You just did everything I told you not to do! People who fail to do this can graduate from school and do important jobs, like work in a hospital and stuff. How are they going to be able to administer doses of imadumbassexadrin and herpderpatonin when they can't even do PEMDAS correctly? Do people wonder why America is 17th in the world in education? It looks like I'm going to have to draw it out in crayon, like usual.

6/2(2+1)

6/2(3)

3(3)

9

We did it! Right?

YOU BET YOUR BEAUTIFUL ASS IT IS. THE ANSWER IS NINE.

(or 9 for those who can't read. You can't do order of operations, so you might read that as a different number, like 14 or Q)

You did it, dumbass!

There. I correctly answered this question. The answer is 9. Not 1, 9. If anyone tells you otherwise, punch them in the mouth so that their teeth fly into the back of their mouth, then snap their kneecaps. Hopefully you were paying attention and not thinking about asking Jennifer Simmons to the prom. She's going with me, so piss off. She doesn't want to go to the prom with a dumbass like you anyway.

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