the fruits of zemblan public education

In the spirit of OINY, here are a few choice tidbits overheard at various neighborhood end-of-year parties. It’s worth noting that I did not have to attend any of said festivities to overhear these. As I might have mentioned, I can hear everything that happens up and down this benighted block without even trying. These people are fucking uncouth.

Scene I: After threatening to “flash on” the hosts of the party, a disgruntled guest leaves.

HOST: Yeah, he tried to flash on me but then he fuckin’ broke ’cause he was afraid I’s gonna flash on him.
OTHER GUEST: Who is he anyway?
HOST: Dude, he’s, like, twenty-six and a fuckin’ grad student.
OTHER GUY: And he’s still at college parties?
HOST: I know. The guy is a tool.

[Ed. Note: A tool he may be, but in a year’s time, he’ll be the one calling the cops on your ridiculously loud parties.]

Scene II: Four shirtless guys are posing with dumbbells in some sort of photo shoot in their front yard, occasionally throwing empty spirits bottles at each other. A girl walks by.

SHIRTLESS BEAUHUNK: Wooo! We just graduated college!
GIRL: [deadpan] That’s amazing.
SHIRTLESS BEAUHUNK: Woooooooo! I know! Duuuude!
GIRL: What was your major?
SHIRTLESS BEAUHUNK: Accounting. I am going to be an accountant!
GIRL: Are you good at it?
SHIRTLESS BEAUHUNK: No! Fuck no! Don’t get me to do your taxes!

Scene III: Stompy girl who lives upstairs, talking to a mumbly guy.

STOMPY: Well, yeah, I am a virgin, as far as I know…


  1. whaddoz it mean to ‘falsh on’ somboddy?

    jesus i just got back form a party downstiars. i got stageran shitfaced an got inta a discuson with a film (?!?!) gradstudant about whathar thares sucha thign as objectiva relity. so im like ‘dude if i whack u ova teh head whit a polo malet its gona raise a bump whethar u baliev in malats or not. like wiley coyote man! u know wiley coyoty right?’ an he did of course an as a mater of fact the mention of mr. ciyote stedied him dwn a bit but stil hes like ‘yeah dud but like derrida blah blah foucoult yad ayada’ er whatvar orsecrap so i decked im.

    i mean he was a nice kid an all an he didn mind if i kep grabin his derink an smokin his ciagets an shakin im by teh lapels but u gota deraw teh line somwhare.


  2. funny stuff! where will you get your material once you move?

    the forces are aligning, the triumverate, that super secret and terribly powerful coalition, may be meeting up in the most innocuous seeming small town…stay alert for updates…


  3. HA, I think you were right to draw the line at mentioning Derrida ond Foucault in public. I mean, I know them too, but I also know how to hide my shame.

    HB, I finally found a site that attempts to define “flash on,” so I linked it in the original post. I first was familiar with the term via this song, and I always thought there was the additional meaning of showing someone something (though not in the sense you mean), like a gun or knife. Not that these guys had guns and knives, they’re just white boys from the midwest who fancy themselves “hip” and “urban.”

    Blue, when I move, I will have some screaming kids and foreign exchange students to deal with, so I’m sure that’ll be funny too. Also, I will stay alert for updates. Is our third member coming too?


  4. Rob, I have been trying to implement that strategy, but I don’t think I have been hitting hard enough. I may have to bring in outside assistance. Anyone up for it?

    HB, Mittens! I love it! Everyone can benefit from a good pair of mittens, though, right? Especially the kind that are attached by a string that goes through the sleeves of your coat, so you can’t lose them. Those are the best kind of mittens.


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