Sadboys
What's worse than bachelor and bachelorette parties? Bachelor and bachelorette parties with name tags. I thought I saw it all: poorly thought out dirty puns or double entendre and naughty plays on words, but nothing can prepare you for Sadboy.
Sadboy.
Sad. Boy.
What possesses you to put Sadboy high on your chest, considering others in your group were Hot Tamale, Thunderbird and Shake and Bake? I guess there has to be one Sadboy, who must venture out into the general public, completely aware that his name tag will drive everyone away from him.
Maybe Sadboy was married and didn't want the attention. Or perhaps Sadboy works as an opposite, like Little John. Sadboy is simply a nom de plume of Happy Man.
But we all know there is no Happy Man. Only Sadboy, a new wonder of the modern world.
Friday Fake No. 1 (225): Mary Had a Little Fake ID
Old Maryland IDs are already on the cheap side, aesthetically speaking. So it's not hard to see which is fake and which isn't. It's a matter of old versus new.
Friday Fake No. 2 (226): 3 Strikes And You're Out
Vertical IDs typically have three places, sometimes more, where you're birthday is printed. And not micro printed or on the perforations. BIG. BOLD. PRINT.
There should be no reason to get it wrong. Even with your temporary license paper hanging in the wind - another place you can read the birth date - you still weren't able to get the right answer.
Friday Fake No. 3 (227): Keystone Kops
Pennsylvania IDs are easy to spot if forged. Underneath the height on the right-hand side of the ID is an embossed Keystone, the state rock or something.
A quick thumb over will sus out the violator right away. Unless they ask to call the cops. I suddenly got a shiver. "Could I have been wrong?"
Nah, I thought. I pulled out my phone and that was that. Bluff called.
Saturday Fake No. 1 (228): Wiscantson
This ID was a gift from the Gods. A clear forgery, based out of my home state, CREASED and somehow free and legal to drive school buses for a living. This person was quite the multitasker!
Saturday Fake No. 2 (229): Miss Clee-o
Sports reporting helped me a great deal. Taught me how to be a better writer. Instilled confidence in seeing my name in print, and being able to know how cities are pronounced across the tri-state area.
Case in point the final ID on Saturday. There's a town in Michigan called Clio.
KL-EYE-O
Not like the crystal ball phone psychic.
Here's to holding out hope for Mio, Au Gres and Saline.
Tuesday Fake No. 1 (230): Winner, Winner!
You know, if I'm catching a fake on trivia night while playing trivia, you done messed up.
Saturday at 7:36 p.m. a man threw a quart of tomato soup into the street. Below are his exact words leading up to this event.
"Can I grab my shit?"
"I need, like, have, like, pasta ..."
"You don't serve pasta, but I have pasta."
"I'm, like, trying, like, to get the pasta, like, I brought."
"Grab that. Go home."
"I'm not going inside. I'll wait."
"I am not homeless. I could probably pay you."
"Not a dirty ass homeless person."
"Aww man."
"Yeah, like, that's my, like coat."
"Hey. Hey, 23!"
"That coat."
"Man, like, yeah, like, not pasta but you know, like."
Soup is too heavy for him to carry
Picks it up, hurls into the street.
Scene.
