Nervous About Popping the Question?! Here Are 5 Fun Ways to Ask Him to Share His Location Indefinitely

By Stacey Torkelson

Taking your relationship to the next level can be intimidating, but there’s no more intimate moment than when your man agrees to share his his exact geographic coordinates with you at all times. Just like moving in together or getting a dog, adjusting your boyfriend’s location settings to alert you whenever he leaves work can be a telltale step to a healthy, happy forever. With these five ideas in tow, you can creatively coax your partner towards “Share Indefinitely.”

Take Him to Bonnaroo.

You might have to sit through three Phish sets, but there’s no denying the logic in having his location shared with you for the duration of the trip as he will inevitably take too many shrooms and get lost. 

Learn Mandarin, change his language settings to Mandarin, and then offer to help fix it.

If Bonnaroo tickets are too expensive, there are thousands of online videos teaching basic Mandarin. With a few weeks of dedication and an Academy Award nominated performance offering help to solve an issue you’ve incited, you can have his coordinates in no time. 

Orchestrate and execute a TED Talk about other couples you’re friends with who share locations.

“Mckenzie has Aaron’s location so that she can surprise him with food and stuff at his place all the time. Also they’re like, really happy…”

Record and replicate his finger prints.

If you know where he keeps his toothbrush, you’re already halfway there. Order a children’s spy kit from Amazon or invest in a hot glue gun and you’ll be on your way to his latitudinal and longitudinal location at any hour of the day.

Say please.

Not for the faint of heart, this idea requires the most risk and effort. If all of the previous options fail, your last resort can be politely asking him to please share his location with you indefinitely. No, not for any reason :))

Busker Giving Away Guitar Case Full of Money, Apparently

By David Colton

UNION SQUARE — Some charity work is just too good-natured to believe.

Among the hustle and bustle of Union Square Monday morning, a man leaned stoically against the wall outside of Duane Reade.

The flannel-clad man had a guitar slung around his shoulder and strummed it softly as he crooned a slightly incorrect rendition of “Closing Time.” But that was only half of his gesture.

In front of him lay an open guitar case littered with dollar bills — a gift with grassroots support. Presumably, the charitable act is like a quest of sorts, with the $12-18 as the crown prize.

“Dude, this guy sounds just like Dan Wilson,” said Daxon Bringham, a passerby who apparently knows all of the members of Semisonic by name.

It appears that the mysterious philanthropist is taking some sort of phone call — perhaps to discuss further charitable endeavors on the streets of New York.

It’s almost 5, which means this guitar case has probably been sitting here untouched basically all day, gathering dust.

I think I’d better take it off his hands so that he doesn’t go home feeling guilty at the end of the day that nobody accepted his charity.

Oh boy, maybe I’ll go to the movies!

What a kind man.

Cross Necklace Draped Over Rearview Mirror Somehow Expected to Save Tyler

By David Colton

TEMPE, AZ — It was like trying to stop a forest fire with a single travel-sized bottle of lotion.

As the 26-year-old barreled down side streets and through alleys, he engaged in a 4-hour marathon round of the popular collegiate inebriation game “Edward Fortyhands.”

No seatbelt, no hands holding the steering wheel and no fucks given — Tyler’s three signature rules, which he has tattooed across his back, ended up being his downfall.

Notoriously a man of Christ, Tyler was always one to push divine limits. The necklace around his rearview mirror was tasked with a tall order that fateful day as soon as he left the house at 7 a.m. that morning. The first thing Tyler did was buy a six-pack of NOS energy fluid and shotgunned them in between cigarettes.

“That boy liked to test God,” said Divinity Faith Johnson, who watched Tyler as he attempted to make a left turn at 97 mph, “It was clear he was trying to do a U-turn for the Subway along the highway. That’s the one that doesn’t even have the Italian Herbs & Cheese bread. It’s just sad.”

From the very beginning, it was a daunting task for the 2007 Ford Fiesta.

A gift from mom’s old boyfriend, Tyler’s little car (which he named “Heavenleigh”) was taken for granted the second the boy received the keys.

“My Tyler has never been one to learn new things,” said Bernard Baubleman, Tyler’s 89-year-old father, “Except, of course, when I taught him how to cry.”

Tyler unequivocally denies learning this lesson from his aging father. At least, he did. When he tried to make that fateful 97 mph turn, he was ejected immediately and crashed through the front window of that Subway, where he would eventually ask to be taken off of life support.

Man Refusing to Sit in Front of Uber in Case Anyone Mistakes Him and Driver as Equals

By Mo Macsai-Goren

Asserting his dominance over the hardworking Uber driver who picked him up from yet another long day at Deutsche Bank, area man Chris Cox refused to sit shotgun on his hour-long ride home. Citing his distain of being seen as equal to his driver, Cox flung his briefcase against the opposite side of the car before sitting and repeatedly calling the driver “buddy” or “big guy.” While Cox Ubers to and from his job as a financial strategist at Deutsche bank every single day, he has yet to sit next to the driver, even in an otherwise-full Uber Pool. According to his passenger reviews, Cox has been known to request that fellow Uber Pool passengers relocate to the front seat so he can maintain the illusion that he is in an episode of Succession. He has been known to ask the driver to close the partition despite riding primarily in PT Cruisers and Kia Sorentos. Sources close to Cox have said that he has always been terrified of being perceived as equal in status to service industry workers, despite never having worked in the industry himself. When asked why he also refuses to tip servers and drivers, Cox expressed deep concern and asked why he would give shell out more money for someone who is just “doing their job.”

Drum Circle More Like Drum Ellipse

By David Colton

CHURCH LOUNGE — Ever since Dex, the hip new youth pastor, joined our church, there has been talk of re-vamping the “Activities & Fun” branch of the church budget.

He started an adult Fortnite league, founded the daytime card players’ society and has successfully convinced three elderly church members to leave without making them feel bad.

None of that has been as controversial as “Dex’s Drum Circle.”

The group of non-percussionists meets three times per week in the church house lounge.

“Sometimes our circle fluctuates and changes shape a bit, to include new members and types of drums” said Dex, a youth pastor with spiked-up hair and a likely background in assistant high school football coaching. “We generally try to stay away from anything that changes or is different in any way.”

Asked whether he thinks he should instead embrace the changing world and all of its variabilities, Dex flipped us off from his car and drove away.

According to sources familiar with the weekly drum circle, if even one chair appears slightly out of position, Dex the youth pastor makes everyone leave building with their drum and chair and come back in. He calls it a “Redux.”

Kid in Giant T-Shirt Wants to Race

By David Colton

THE STREET — This year’s block party was already off to a good start. Paul from down the street brought out the cider he’s been fermenting and the fire engine showed up an hour early.

The truck was only there for about three minutes before the fire hydrant was opened and the neighborhood children all gathered in the spray.

The first child in the mist was, of course, Markie Dawson, whose parents nobody else on the street has met. He made sure to get soaking wet before hopping right back on his scooter for an air dry.

“That Markie Dawson sure is rambunctious,” said Barb Hammond, who has already ruined her only son for everyone else via social media, “I don’t want my Jonathan hanging around with him.”

But for Markie, dashing through sprinklers and spraying unsuspecting dads with water guns was only the beginning. Dawson developed a round-robin style bracket in which he will race on foot against every adult at this block party until either he loses or someone else wins.

Markie, who allegedly got kicked out of Ms. Wahle’s second grade class, was last seen preliminarily demolishing the entire block party supply of s’mores marshmallows.

Man Leaves Concert Early to Buy $85 Sweatshirt

By David Colton

CULVER’S CENTER — After weeks of anticipation, Kev and the boys were thrilled to finally have the chance to get plastered in a non-basement setting.

Thursday night saw this year’s second installation of the tri-annual Foreigner Concert Experience at the freshly erected Culver’s Center in Gary, Indiana.

Kev and the boys (Trey, Troy, Nick and TJ) attend at least two of the three Foreigner concerts at Gary’s Culver’s Center per year, according to a dresser drawer full of ticket stubs.

Each year, the gentlemen commemorate their trip with two celebratory torso garments. The first are custom-made with white t-shirts and airbrush paint, while the second are traditionally merchandise items purchased at the concert itself.

This year, Foreigner hired a 34-year-old wearing a floppy hat to design the sweatshirts, and Kev and the boys simply could not resist.

The “loved and broken”-style sweatshirt is a reimagining of the band’s hit sweatshirt from the 1996 “Foreigner Takes Canada” tour.

“I figured, we leave as soon as they start playing ‘Dirty White Boy,’ there will be zero line at the merch stand,” said Kev, leader of Kev and the boys, “Plus, by leaving 25 minutes after the set starts, we can avoid traffic.”

With this foolproof plan, K and the B’s say they have reached the pinnacle of streamlined concert attending.

Emotionally Stunted Teen Has Coolest Parents

By Ben Gaspin

GREENWICH –  Sixteen-year-old Jackson Smalls has the life most teens dream of. He has a girlfriend, a car, and access to his father’s medical marijuana card. That’s right: Jackson Smalls has the coolest parents ever.

Smalls didn’t always know his parents were cool. In fact, he thought he was the cool one. To him, they were just Mom, who taught his friend Shiera how to kiss a boy because her mom is too conservative, and Dad, who coached Jackson’s basketball team and gave the other boys pointers to improve their game, while he just told Jackson how proud of him he was.

It wasn’t until Jackson threw a party while his parents were skydiving in Malta that he realized he might not be the stud he once believed. He made the mistake of telling friends that his parents were out of town, not realizing that the main reason they loved his house was because his dad is hella funny and his mom once told the principal that she could go fuck herself. 

Jackson’s girlfriend, Amanda Greene, comforts him when she can. “I’m kinda like his therapist, you know. He can never really find the words for how he’s feeling, or if he’s got any prospects in life. I want to tell him to talk to his parents because they’ll make him feel better by saying he can be president if he wants to, but also I feel like that’s a burden on Becky–oh, sorry, that’s his mom–you know?”

It is a burden for Becky, which is why Mr. and Mrs. Smalls tell their son weekly that it’s perfectly okay to talk to a therapist, even if nothing’s wrong yet, and you know what? Why don’t they just go ahead and set up an appointment for next week; he can go if he wants to or just cancel it.

Jackson has yet to see a therapist. When asked for comment, his only response was “Why would I talk about my feelings when Mortal Kombat can bury them deep inside me?”