The apocalypse began in early April with new regulations that will require all football tailgate parties to end thirty minutes before kick-off. “A tailgate is a social event intended to create a festive atmosphere among fans prior to attending a football game,” read an announcement defending the decision. “Also, hail Satan.”
The final words of the message – the ‘Hail Satan’ part – revealed a secret contract that the administration made with the devil in its long quest to systematically wipe out any fun at this school. As one fraternity brother eloquently complained, the restrictions will deprive the campus of its unique atmosphere and force students to go to the unreasonable trouble of “finding somewhere off campus to get belligerently drunk.”
Satan’s wrath soon struck again in the form of a hurricane-like storm that knocked out power on frat row for days. “They should have understood that the rule would not only fail to boost student attendance, but would actually lower it!” cried one Greek student as he scurried into shelter while heavy winds knocked down trees all around.
A volcanic eruption occurred immediately afterwards, and the fiery catastrophe was followed by a meteor strike and an avalanche. The next day, the evil demon Pinhead emerged from an abyss to the depths of the underworld that appeared in the middle of West End to lead the invasion. “Greek life seemed like a good place to start since it’s the only social scene on campus,” Pinhead explained, rubbing together his hands with glee. “Depriving them of a half-hour of tailgating… Ah, the suffering. The sweet, sweet suffering.”
Faced with this Satanic invasion, students have maintained appropriately vigorous protests. “Why did the administration have to bring such unbearable suffering upon us?” lamented one desperate student as he fled from a hoard of Satanic ogres, gargoyles, and Velociraptors.
There may be no stopping this war against all happiness and joy and campus unless the new tailgating rules are repealed. If not, scientists have already identified the next step in Lucifer’s diabolical plan: an impending demonic cicada invasion.
Tailgating Cutoff Rule Causes World to End Entirely
What to Drink this Weekend
Beer. Lots of beer. Uh, no…anything really. Anything with alcohol in it. Someting you can take to class on Friday.
Natty Light
*1 case of 24 12 oz. cans
Get in your car, go to the gas station, and buy some Natty Light. Pour into plastic cup as fast as possible. Chilling not necessary.
Franzia
*1.5 liter box of wine
Gently open cardboard box of Franzia.
Remove bag from box. Place bag on
coat rack. Stick face up to nozzle
and “enjoy.”
Stump: The Next Big Drinking Game Craze
As a native son of southeastern Louisiana, I keep an – shall we say – eclectic group of friends back in the homelands and swamplands.
Some of them are set to be future petroleum engineers, calculating how to most efficiently use our state’s vast amount of natural resources. Some are receiving their acceptance letters to medical schools, applying their skills to advance modern medicine and to promote human health. The others are just big fuckin’ rednecks who drink 40s and shoot shotguns at anything with feet – sometimes in tandem.
During this most recent New Year’s Eve festivities, a strange assemblage of friends descended upon a mutual friend’s house in the heart of New Orleans, where one of those aforementioned more redneck friends nudged me as I was sipping on my gin and tonic and posited, “Say brah, you wanna play Stump, ‘da most redneck drinkin’ game eva?” Feeling sufficiently ginned up, I immediately agreed, and he began to gather the rest of the group to partake as well.
As we were all circling up in the driveway, my friend was walking back from his King Ranch Edition Ford F-150 pickup nicknamed “Gert” with two cinder blocks and a tree stump about two feet in diameter. When I asked where he picked that up, he simply responded “stol’ it” as he pulled a hammer out of his back pocket, never missing a beat from his tapping nails into the surface of what was once a tree. He then began to explain the basic rules of the game to those of us in attendance who were less-than-redneck.
“Set tha stump up so dat it’s ‘bout between knee-high and waist-high. Erry playa’ gets a nail knockt into the wood ‘round the ring of the stump jus’ far enough in so dat it can stan’ up on its own. ‘Dere’s also a community nail in tha center of the stump. Ya hold a beer in one hand and toss tha hamma wit’ tha otha.
“When it’s yo turn, ya throw tha hamma’ in tha air once so dat it makes a full spin forward and den ya catch it and, in one smooth motion, smack tha shit outta one of tha nails dat ain’t yo’s. Hit a nail, dat person drinks. Hit yo own nail, ya drink fo’ bein’ stupid. Hit somebody else’s body, ya drink for bein’ a asshole. Sink a nail, dat person chugs dere whole beer, though dey do get a single retribution swing. Tha same applies for tha community nail, ‘cept dat erryone drinks or chugs ‘cept fo’ ya.
“If ya drop tha hamma while tossin’ it, ya drink. If ya swing and hit only tha stump, ya pass tha hamma to tha left, cuz ya pass errythang to tha left, brah. Swing and miss a nail and tha stump, ya drink fo’ suckin’. Spill yo beer while tossin’, especially on yo’self, ya drink for alcohol abuse and fo’ lookin’ like a dumbass.
“If someun’ hits yo nail all janky-like and bends it, one time during tha game ya get to sacrifice yo regular toss for a turn called a ‘Straighten’ where ya get to use tha claw of tha hamma to fix yo crooked nail. Place yo beer on tha stump and go to work on dat nail, but knock ova’ yo beer while straightenin’ and yo special turn’s up and ya gotta drink for tha spillage.
“Last man standing wins. Ya betta start practicin’, city boy, cuz we been playin’ dis fo’ tha past coupla months now, and ya might get yo ass handed to ya.”
As the twelve of us went round and round again stumpin’ it up, there were multiple dropped hammers, a few self-spillages, many yelled expletives, and lots of laughter. About half-way through the game, one of my other friends who was also a city-boy newbie managed to muster up a good toss and a strong enough swing to do some real damage to a nail’s lifespan, but then he cleanly missed everything he was supposed to hit and thus had enough momentum to smack himself in his own damn shin. Luckily, his senses were slightly dulled and he only hit the meat of his leg, so he only ended up with a bruised muscle rather than a shattered bone. Nonetheless, we still made him drink. The rules of Stump are quite sacred, and we thought that it might help to ease forthcoming pain.
In sober reflection, even though the game was quite foolish and probably dangerous even without the involvement of firearms, it was still nice to get in touch with my inner redneck, even if only for a few hours, as overalls and thick accents don’t really go over so well with the Vandy ladies. Besides, that same guy who cracked himself in the shin actually ended up winning the game in the end, so it really is anybody’s game, even if you are more apt to the city life than wielding hand tools in unorthodox manners.
So I encourage you to give Stump a try at your next social gathering. I’m eager to see tree stumps beginning to proliferate on the lawns of frat row, bringing a bit of the backwoods to the backyards of frat brothers. And remember, fellas, that you should persuade the ladies to play too, because nothing’s sexier than a woman who knows how to handle a hammer. Just think about Rosie the Riveter. Now that’s one to pin up on the wall.
For more specific rules and possible game variations, check out this hella extensive and damn official website:
Stunning New Developments in Beer Pong Theory Baffle Enthusiasts
Results from a recent study conducted at Fucdisgaem State University have put the world of Beer Pong on edge as many findings contradict everything that avid players have held dearly for centuries. The publication is being compared to Einstein’s theory of general relativity, Newton’s Principia, Darwin’s On the Origin of Species and Snooki’s bestseller A Shore Thing.
Describing his revolutionary text, How to Be the Best: Fuck You, a Study of the Science of the Silky Smooth Shot, Dr. Tony Peesashiet flowed, “Look, all ya pussies and nancy boys have been doin’ this shit wrong. Sit down, open ya ears, and lemme teach ya this true shit bout the pong.”
The report primarily focuses on the placement of beer pong cups after initial setup, or “rerack,” and how some commonly-used formations actually lead to one’s own defeat. The two most common misconceived cup setups are the “Tight Vagina” – four cups in a diamond lengthwise – and the “Power-I Formation” – three cups in a vertical line. Peesashiet’s work proves that the often ridiculed “Loose Vagina” and “Play Button” are more appropriate for the four-cup and three-cup situations.
“Yo, like, I know people gonna give you shit ‘bout that loose vag, but look, bro, it’s all related to the Heisenberg fuckin’ uncertainty principle. Your goddamn ball is like a fuckin’ photon, and you ain’t got any idea where that shit’s goin’. That fucker’s gonna go more left and right than it is back and forth, if you got any goddamn skill at the fuckin’ game. Same shit goes with the play button. You use these fuckin’ racks and your bitch-ass opponent’s gonna be drinkin’ that shit and doin’ naked laps like Usain Bolt.”
Not everyone has been pleased with these recent waves of change in the beer pong community. Local frat champion Chad Cranderson was furious at the doctor’s work.
“LOOSE vag? What the fuck is that crap? Hahahaha…” Cranderson said, right before the cup he held in his left hand was promptly sunk on the second turn by the good doctor himself.
Giving a brief post-victory interview, Peesashiet boasted “Yeah, punk, don’t even try to insult my loose vag!…Wait, don’t print that.”
Legit: Interview with Comedy Central Comedian Aaron Karo
As far as I know, this is a new first for The Slant. Due to a massive windfall and some random email forwarding, I had the opportunity to interview actual rising-star comedian Aaron Karo.
Just for a bit of background, Karo has been a member of the comedy scene since his college days and has steadily grown in insanity, hilarity, and popularity since then. He started as just another party-happy college kid who emailed his friends about his ruminations on the beer-induced, dumb shit he had accomplished over the past weekend. Since then, his meditations have ballooned into his own web site, Ruminations.com, and multiple books deals that resulted in three published novels, Ruminations on College Life, Ruminations on Twentysomething Life, and I’m Having More Fun Than You.
As of this past November, Karo’s stand-up special has premiered on the funniness powerhouse Comedy Central, featuring his latest thoughts on growing up, The Rest is History, which has also been released in album form less than 3 weeks ago and tears the bridesmaids’ speech’s cliché a new marital orifice.
For more information on Karo’s latest comedic adventures, check out this link: http://therestishistory.com/
Other than that, enjoy the man’s insights and honesty.
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1) Describe to us, a bunch of sheltered college kids, what it’s like doing shows on the road. Also, what did you think of Craig Ferguson and his Late Late Show?
a. Hold on, that’s a two-part question, something I wasn’t expecting. Doing shows on the road: Long stretches of horribleness followed by short bursts of awesomeness. Traveling, fuckin’ eating Wendy’s in the airport while hungover, and horrible hotels followed by going on stage, making people laugh, getting a rush, getting drunk, trying to get laid, and repeating.
b. The Late Late show was awesome, Craig Ferguson is great. I was in the green room before the show and someone came in and brought me a letter. I opened it up and it was actually a handwritten letter from Craig saying “Dear Karo, Don’t fuck it up. Love, Craig.” So that was very cool, and I hope I didn’t fuck it up.
c. And yeah, I should have my press secretary on the line, Tom Cruise doesn’t get two-parters, this is ridiculous.
2) What was the inspiration for your Ruminations column that you started in college and has since evolved into its own website and user community?
a. Basically, when I was a freshman back at the University of Pennsylvania, which would have been September of 1997, I got sooooo fucked up every weekend that I would go out all night and I would sleep all day. And on Sunday nights, I’d try to go to bed at like a normal hour to get ready for the week, but I found that my body clock was so messed up that I couldn’t ever fall asleep on Sunday nights. So one Sunday night, a couple weeks into college, I couldn’t fall asleep, so I sat down at my computer out of boredom and I sent an email to 20 of my friends called “Ruminations on College Life,” which was just some random anecdotes and observations about college, and, no pun intended, the rest is history.
b. JUSTIN: So drunken thoughts became your ticket to fame.
i. Yes, that would be a good thing to tell the fans.
3) And, just out of curiosity, when you were in college, what was the cheap, easily-accessible beer of choice? I’m doing a research project on the staying power of Natty Light.
a. You know what, we fuckin’ drank Natty Light too. Yep, that was 1997 and we definitely drank Natty Light. I think there might have been some BEAST too….I was in Philly, which is where Yuengling is, so we’d splurge because that was a “good” beer, but we consumed a lot of Natty Light. Shit’s been around for years.
b. I mean, I was at a bar and they had Natty Light, I’d fuckin’ get Natty Light, definitely. It’s the fuckin’ drink of champions.
i. JUSTIN: At least it’s not the champagne of beers.
ii. Exactly, no Miller High Life in my fraternity.
4) Now, on to more serious questions. What the fuck compelled you to try stand up?
a. Well, after I graduated from Penn, I went to work on Wall Street, and a few months in, I realized that it was not for me because it combined my three least favorite things, which are waking up early, shaving regularly, and tucking in my shirt. And, I had already gotten a book deal from Simon and Schuster to publish my first novel, Ruminations on College Life and I was looking for another outlet. I told my buddy that I wanted to try open mic, and then I canceled on him a couple times until, finally, he booked me and I couldn’t get out of it, so I was forced to do it. So I did it and it was awesome, much better than sitting in a cubicle, so I decided to give it a shot.
b. JUSTIN: So your friend pushed you out into the limelight and made you dance.
i. Pretty much. He was like, “You’re locked into the show,” and I was all like “Well, okay, I guess I’ll just do stand-up comedy then. I have no fuckin’ clue.”
5) So since your initiation onto the stage, what has been your best moment and what has been your worst moment during a routine?
a. Worst moment: I was doing a gig in Ann Arbor and between shows I got a lot drunk, which wasn’t a problem because half the acts up there are usually drunk, but I had to take a piss. I ended up having to break the seal. I had to leave the stage half way through my set, take a piss, and them come back and finish my set.
b. Best moment: I did a show at the House of Blues in Chicago and everyone got so fuckin’ drunk in crowd that someone actually threw up in the audience and then everyone around them started throwing up and it was awesome.
6) I’m assuming that you’ve picked up this stand-up thing from somewhere, so who would you say are your top three comedic influences, and why have you let them influence you?
a. Well, I honestly think my comedic influences aren’t other comedians; it’s really more of my idiot friends. I mean, I’ve got one fraternity brother who lost his virginity in a threesome – the bad kind – and he’s still ridiculous. I have another buddy who I bet 50 bucks that he couldn’t join Jdate.com and then get laid on the same night. He took the bet and he won. Another buddy got so drunk that he passed out on the phone and used up all of his cell phone minutes for the month in one night. And so it’s really just my experience of living with these people, these lunatics, that it’s kind of inspired my acts.
7) Let’s assume that your first Comedy Central Special goes over as well as your published, comedic novels so that the TV network decides to greenlight you for a new TV series. What would you do to ensure that it doesn’t suck?
a. What happens is that you write a script and then the network gives you what’s known as “notes,” which are basically absurd comments about how to make the script worse. So what I’ve learned, and I haven’t made it that far yet, is that, basically, you say, “Okay, great idea, I love these notes,” and then not do any of them. So I think that would be my strategy if I ever got my own sitcom.
b. JUSTIN: So totally ignore all of the Comedy Central producers’ advice.
i. Well, if it’s Comedy Central, I would listen to whatever they say because I love you Comedy Central, but if it were a different network, I would possibly not listen to them.
So while we’re in this realm of hypothetical-ness, let’s pretend that you’re on a date with the illustrious Lady Gaga and she’s wearing her lovely meat dress. The night goes swimmingly and she takes you back to her place. Are you scared or excited, and what do you do once you get there?
a. Wait, wait, wait, she’s wearing the meat dress?
i. JUSTIN: Yes, she’s most definitely wearing the meat dress.
1. Okay, well first, yes, I’m excited. I’d say we’d have to de-robe her, or de-meat her – not too sure what that means – but we’d have to take the meat off. And then I think I’d do what my buddy refers to as “double-bagging it,” which is wearing two condoms, just in case.
ii. JUSTIN: That’s safe, the kids appreciate that. You should probably look into getting a job for Durex or for Trojan in the future.
1. Actually, if you remember health class in high school, you’re not supposed to wear two condoms because it causes friction and they both burst. Please, put that in an asterisk at the bottom. I don’t want to cause a bunch of Vanderbilt people to get pregnant. Actually, you might want to Google that because I don’t even know what the fuck I’m talking about at this point.
9) Ok, so let’s talk about your new album. Although I read about it in your press release, can you tell me, in your own words, what was the inspiration for The Rest is History?
a. Dude, I haven’t even read that press release. Anyway, The Rest is History is a phrase that all bridesmaids use after they’ve given a horrible speech about how the bride and groom met, and it’s always a very white-washed version of the story. But, we all know that these days, people meet, send 4am booty texts, and are getting random blow jobs in person and fucking each other on Facebook. So my show is about how people actually meet, and the final joke is what the bridesmaid’s speech would be like if she actually told the truth, and that’s The Rest is History.
b. JUSTIN: And was this inspired by some of your friends who’ve gotten married, or was this just you thinking about it while watching really shitty Lifetime channel movies?
i. Actually, the majority of my friends who are married met their husbands and wives in what began as a one-night stand and then blossomed into a serious relationship. So, I feel that odds are that’s how I’ll meet my future wife as well. The next time I’m at a bar and I try to take a girl home and she objects by saying “No. What kind of a girl do you think I am?,” I can reply with, “Well I guess you’re not marriage material.”
10) And lastly, if you could be any kitchen utensil, which one would you be and why?
a. Oh wow, I haven’t been asked this since I was a Playmate centerfold. I guess that my first instinct is the spork because it’s versatile, it’s unique, and you really only see one when you’re stoned in line at Wendy’s at 3 o’clock in the morning.
11) Any final comments or cautionary tales you’d like to share with our readers and with anyone whom may have not seen your Comedy Central special yet? Basically, what would you want to tell your readers about yourself so that they will give you money by watching it?
a. This is for Vanderbilt, right?
b. JUSTIN: Yessir.
i. Alright, so then my answer is going to be because my career began because of Vanderbilt. When I was working on Wall Street after college, I sent around a manuscript of all the emails I had written in college, basically just printed out pages of what I have been forwarding to my friends. They went around to publishers and one day I got an email from a girl who was an undergrad at Vanderbilt. She said that she was a big fan, she had been reading my column, and since it was summer, she was writing to tell me about her internship, which was at Simon and Schuster. She was emailing to tell me that she read my manuscript, that her boss was an editor, and that she was going to make sure that the boss read it because she was a big fan. And, two weeks later, I got a book deal from Simon and Schuster and never looked back.
c. JUSTIN: Did you ever meet this mysterious girl?
i. Yes, I did meet her, and I still know her to this day. So the fascination of a Vanderbilt alumni has led to me, ten years later, never having to wear pants ever again. So thank you, Vanderbilt, and buy my shit…and don’t use two condoms at the same time.
This Week’s Throwdown Lowdown
Here’s your comprehensive guide to this weekend’s fraternity parties:
Wednesday:
Alpha Alpha’s Alphaholics Anonymous party
Thursday:
Phi Rho Mu: Preppy pre-party
Phi Rho Mu: PR-MDs: The Doctor Is In
Phi Rho Mu: Post-party party-themed party
Phi Rho Mu: Afterparty-style afterparty
Phi Rho Mu: Postafterparty- Golf Pros and Uncontrolable Vomitting
Gamma Alpha Upsilon: Glee Viewing party
Beta Upsilon Chi: Straight Guys and No Hos
Friday:
Nu Omicron Delta: Business
Boys and Sexretaries
Sigma Tau Pi: Tech-bros and Trance Hos
Kappa Kappa Kappa: Private Bonfire
Tau Nu Sigma: Ultimate
Frisbros and Table Tennis Hos
Saturday:
Rho Alpha Mu:
Sluttily Dressed Women and Douchebags
Phi Epsilon: Just a lot of
excessive drinking…
Sunday:
Beta Chi Omega: Regretful Bros and Possibly Pregnant Hos
Sickness-Spurred Sobriety Springs Slanter to Score Scoop
Over the past few weeks I’ve been relatively ill with an as-of-yet undiagnosed disease. It made its most vicious strike the Wednesday right before Fall Break and imprisoned me in my own bed which had been feeling like a forlorn lover, because it hadn’t seen much of me lately and because my Husband Pillow™ just doesn’t fill her the same way I do.
I’ve since been to the doctor, gotten a shot and four prescriptions, and I am now on the path to recovery. In fact, today, I just finished the last of my antibiotic pills. Now, keeping in mind that the last time I drank while on antibiotics my body backfired, vomited all over itself, lost my camera, sat on my glasses, and punished me with the worst hangover I’ve ever had, I decided to avoid a repeat of said experience.
But, being the socialite that I like to pretend that I am, I still had to network at the parties to which I had already been invited and had committed to attending. The beauty of opaque Solo cups is that you can be drinking straight water and still act as crazy as a wombat on LSD, because people will automatically assume your plastic chalice contains something alcoholic. This sleight-of-liquid allowed me to blend in with the musically-stimulated orgying masses crammed into a sweaty Towers suite to bring you these journalistic expositions.
However, these sessions of not imbibing the purple-drank/fire-water/crunk-juice did give me the privileged perspective of quietly observing and explicitly judging people and, boys and girls, I’ve learned one thing: folks enjoy acting entirely too drunk for their small amounts of ingested libations. To quote myself from last night’s shambles, “I’ve been to these parties before, and you, sir, are behaving entirely too smashedly for one cup of that weak-ass punch. Get a hold of yourself, man. Men aren’t supposed to move like that. You’re making our gender look bad.”
So, know your limits, fellas. Don’t forget that, as a guy, you can easily look immensely stupid from thinking you’ve flooded your brain enough to feel invincible and fancy free. Women only get a free pass because even if they haven’t played “Slap the Bag” with our ever-classy friend Mr. Franzia, they always look sexier the more they dance. Just remember that going home alone to play “Pet the Wombat” all by yourself is not your primary yearning.
Reanimated Liver Seeks Revenge
Students beware: Vanderbilt’s least respected organ, the liver, has come to life and is out for revenge.
During the wee hours of Saturday morning, in what some have called “an experiment gone wrong” and “a really bad idea,” researchers in Vanderbilt’s Medical Center led by Dr. Frank Enschtein successfully reanimated a liver that was due for transplant. However, during the course of the procedure, the liver escaped from the laboratory and has been metaphorically climbing in windows and snatching people up ever since.
In an attempt to help students prepare for possible encounters with the liver in question, Vanderbilt administrators have declared this week to be Liver Awareness Week. Chancellor Nick Zeppos commented on the announcement:
“Students at this school continually neglect their own livers on a weekly basis. Now, more than ever, they need to be aware of the dangers this liver presents to their well-beings before it is too late.”
What dangers, you ask? The liver possesses the most dangerous weapon on the planet: knowledge. In particular, it possesses the knowledge that alcohol consumption damages one’s liver (I know, I was surprised too. Getting my frat on has long-term consequences on my health? Unbelievable…)
This mind-blowing revelation delivered by an actual liver could result in choosing to abstain from drinking forever. Just one encounter with the liver could be enough to cause one to simply break out in tears at the sight of a drunk person dancing on an elevated surface.
Chancellor Zeppos has this warning for the liver: “We’re looking for you. We gon’ find you. I’m lettin’ you know now. You can run and tell that, homeboy.”
It is safe to assume that the liver could spell the end of Vanderbilt raging as we know it. So, if you see the liver around campus, run as fast as you can in the opposite direction or you will never be able to listen to Ke$ha again without cringing.
Also, the liver has been seen carrying nunchucks, so watch out for that too.
Kangaroo Week Respect the Decision to Drink Heavily (sponsored by Foster’s – Australian for Beer)
Okay, so I know many of you non-drinkers out there think it’s annoying when that one guy refuses to stop drinking alcohol along with all of his friends at the party. But it’s very important that we respect his rights, for we might not truly understand his complex, hormonally loaded psyche. For example, it’s highly likely that he consumed copious amounts of Tetrohydrocannabinol earlier that day, and he wants to be careful to get the most out of his Thirsty Thursday night by combining a hallucinogen and a depressant. Cross-buzz! Or maybe his main bitch has discovered that he’s been spending her hard-earned money, and he’s dealing with the goddamn loan shark that same Tipsy Tuesday night. Or perhaps he’s trying to lose those last few decimals on his over-2.00 GPA, and he’s just too embarrassed to study, because that’s less time to drink, right? Oh no, I feel sick. Why am I typing this? It’s Saturday… Whatever the reason, I think we can all agree that it’s better to let him drink alone than with the rest of the party. Anyway, come on, this is America. We all deserve our civil liberties taken away from us by a police officer for public intoxication. Just remember what George Washington said, “Pabst Blue Ribbon. Drink it, you assholes.”
Although many people do drink and do so responsibly, please remember that everyone has a different story to tell. Whether they shotgun in the trash chute or are merely enjoying a study-beer, it is only fair that we treat them as human beings, as opposed to treating them as something else, by respecting and supporting that decision…
I need to vomit. Get out of my wa-
For more information about Kangaroo Week, contact The Slant at
eic.theslant@gmail.com or stop by the Student Media Newsroom at Sarratt 130. Kangaroo Week, unlike its competitor, does NOT support splitting infinitives or the font Comic Sans. Seriously?
