Ye Olde News Blog

Woman Plays With Self And Loses

“Who’s up for a classic game of badminton?” an overly-enthusiastic Nits Cardenas announced to indifferent guests during the afternoon barbeque.  Soliciting nary a response aside from an ill-timed burp, Nits’ unstoppable spirit did not allow the group’s collective disinterest dampen her desire to play.  She proceeded with a 45-minute game against herself, ultimately losing by 15 points.   “I expected to lose anyway.  It’s been a while since I last played this game.  But with constant practice, there’s no doubt I’ll eventually beat myself and win.”

She played another round for 30 minutes until she was hosed off the driveway to make additional parking spaces for guests.

Temporary Tortilla Chip Shortage Causes Panic, Looting

An unexpected shortage of tortilla chips at Dina Mateo’s 4^th of July gathering resulted in panic and the disownment of at least one family member.  Nits Cardenas, Dina’s cousin, was put in charge of bringing chips and salsa but ended up buying laundry detergent, obviously tempted by WalMart’s rollback prices.  After guests have devoured the chips and salsa left over from this year’s easter celebration, they were treated to a bag of Fritos and ketchup.  Dina, outraged by Nit’s obliviousness, promptly disowned her cousin, promising to refer to her from then on as “the chick who does her laundry here for free but forgets the chips and salsa.”  Dina then proceeded to loot the place of its DVDs and souvenir shotglasses until she remembered it was her own house and immediately replaced the shotglasses back in their display case.

Nits was last seen doing her laundry in the garage before taking off with the Mateos’ fabric softener.

White Man Finds Himself in Non-English Speaking Party

Alan Blake, a “Swedish, Finnish, Irish, German, probably French, no, fuck the French, and a bit Indian but too minimal to impact my whiteness” man realized two hours into a 4^th of July dinner party that the all-Filipino crowd have not been talking in English the whole time.  Blake was invited by Dina Mateo, the hostess, because “he’s tall enough to reach the cans of luncheon meat at the top shelf of my kitchen cabinet I’ve been meaning to send to the Philippines since 1996.  This house’s previous owners must’ve forgotten to take those with them.  Losers.”  Regarding whether she was aware they were conversing solely in Tagalog despite Blake’s presence, she responded with a puzzled, “he stayed?” 

“Dude, that sucks.  I’ve practically been talking to myself the whole time,” complained Blake.  “They threw around a couple of English words like “salsa” and “tortillas” so I carried the conversation from there.  No wonder I couldn’t understand them; I thought it was just their accents or partially-masticated food that was getting in the way of enunciation.  And my wife, who’s Filipina-Spanish-Japanese-and some type of grapefruit, didn’t even warn me beforehand.  We’ll see about that when I take her to my brother’s birthday party.  I’ll let her find out herself that we won’t be talking in Tagalog.”

Man Too Cheap for Fireworks Plays With Matches

While everyone was busy lighting up their Bottle Rockets and Freedom Sparklers, Bernard Nunez rummaged through his friend’s garage for “yellow pages, old comic books and matches” to participate in the 4^th of July celebrations.  He denounced fireworks for encouraging “violence and mostly unnecessary drive-by shootings in our society, especially in cities beginning with the letter ‘C’ and that shithole Baldwin Park,” and extolled the virtues of burning phonebooks as a more peaceful, non-destructive alternative similar to the bra-burnings of the 70s, but lamented that “[the guests] weren’t willing to lend me any.”  The soothing crackle of burning paper eased Bernard into a light nap on the sidewalk only to be awakened when his foot caught on fire.  He laughed for the camera and shook the thing off as something that happens all the time.

Sixth Pack Found, Fifth Still Missing

In what Bernard called “a glorious occasion, like the time I found M&Ms in my bellybutton,” Bernard found his sixth pack at around 10:43 that night.  “I was wearing a T-shirt at that time and I accidentally felt something hard over here,” pointing to his lower torso.  “I wasn’t in the presence of a gorgeous half-naked human suggestively eating fresh produce on a silk-draped waterbed nor was the magazine in my hands pornographic, unless you get your kicks out of camera accessories, so I knew that hardness could only come from an ab.  Sure enough, it was my sixth-pack.  I’m still searching for the 5^th, but it’s good to know I didn’t lose it at Starbucks.”