Slices of SPAM stored singly for single SPAM savants so they can savor the strange sustenance. Sooper!

I can’t believe I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter can believe that a fat free version can make people believe it’s not butter.

If you’re having a hard time getting fat with Starbucks coffee drinks, try getting fat with Starbucks chocolate and Starbucks truffles. You can’t get these with soy or skim milk.

If you ever see me feeding my future kids Lunchables that contain titanium dioxide, please turn me in to Child Protective Services. If you see me eating Lunchable that contain titanium dioxide, please leave me alone, because I am probably in really dark place at the moment.

Superhero Movie? Hmm…What genre of movie is not safe from bad parody? What’s next? Sci-Fi Movie? Documentary Movie? OH SHIT! I’ve giving them fucking ideas.

I don’t walk into a Hallmark store for greeting cards anymore because when I looked through the aisles filled with folded cards, colorful envelopes, and middle-aged women, I couldn’t find a card that truly expressed what I was thinking or feeling.

I find that most of those Hallmark cards are predictable, like the use of the word “beaner” in a Carlos Mencia joke. “I love you,” “Happy Birthday,” “I miss you,” “Merry Christmas,” or “I have herpes” are just some of the phrases that you might find inside a typical greeting card. I want my greeting cards to say more than that. If I already know what it’s going to say inside, why even bother opening it? Just pull the card out, shake it, and let the cash, personal check, gift card, or condom fall onto my lap.

Thank goodness for Bald Guy Greeting Cards, which have more to say that a typical greeting card and does it with sarcasm. With these cards you won’t find rainbows being used as a metaphor for friendship, love, or the bridge into womanhood.

Instead, you have cards that say what you’re truly thinking, but too afraid to say out loud, unless you’re an asshole. For example, one of their birthday cards I picked up says on the outside, “Happy Birthday (I guess),” then on the inside it says, “For the record, my birthday was on _______ and you didn’t get me a card. Not even an email. But that’s okay. Happy Birthday to you, I guess.”

There have been several occasions when I really needed a card like that.

Another card I picked out for a future wedding says on the outside, “Congratulations on your wedding,” while on the inside it says, “I hope you like your gift. Since you went to the store, picked it out and registered for it. Actually, if you don’t like it, it’s kind of your fault.”

Despite them being honest, I really wish there was more profanity in the cards. You know, to keep it real. One card I found used the word “asshole,” but that was pretty much it. Seriously, which would have more of an impact:

a. For the record, my birthday was on _______ and you didn’t get me a card. Not even an email. But that’s okay. Happy Birthday to you, I guess.

or

b. For the record, my fucking birthday was on ______ and you didn’t get me a fucking card. Not even a fucking email. But that’s okay. Happy Birthday to you, fucker.

Another thing that slightly bothered me about the Bald Guy greeting cards were the drawing on the front of every card. Each emo-ish character looked like something that haunts my dreams, much like New York’s eyelashes do.

Speaking of dreams, I once dreamt of becoming a greeting card writer, so that whenever the dreaded question “What are you going to do with an English Degree?” came up, I could reply “Write greeting cards, bitches!” to my aunts and uncles.

You know what? I think that might just make a good greeting card for English majors.

Item: Bald Guy Greeting Cards
Price: $3.00 (per card)
Purchased at: www.baldguygreetings.com
Rating: 3 out of 5
Pros: Sarcastic cards. Honest. Perfect cards for certain situations. Profanity. Money inside a card.
Cons: Drawings haunt my dreams. Needs more profanity. New York’s eyelashes. Rainbows being used as a metaphor for friendship. love, and the bridge into womanhood. Getting a card that says, “I have herpes.”

Bad news: I didn’t find true love on Match.com.

Good news: I’m still an eligible bachelor…ladies. (Sprays Binaca in mouth and gives a wink)

I do a lot of things over the internet, like check the balances in my bank accounts, Google ex-girlfriends, read up on current events on CNN.com, self-diagnose any psychological symptoms via WebMD, download music through iTunes, and learn how to please a woman through the millions of search results found by typing “how to please a woman” at my favorite search engine. So it only seems natural that I find a date over the internet.

Sure I could do it the old fashioned way and walk up to a complete stranger, introduce myself, tell her she’s beautiful, ask her if she would be interested in a date, she replies “With you?,” I say “yes,” wait during an awkward pause while she thinks of a good excuse, and then says, “I’m sorry, I already have a boyfriend” or “I’m sorry, I’m not into guys,” but getting a date via an internet dating site is so much easier because, if you do your search correctly, women on these sites are most likely single and not a lesbian.

Match.com offers a very simple solution to get you into the dating scene, unlike competitor eHarmony which makes you fill out a SAT-long questionnaire that’s hard to do in one sitting. With Match.com all you need to do is come up with a username that isn’t already taken and then fill out your profile, which consists of normal things like hobbies, likes, dislikes, job description, describing yourself, and describing what you look for in a date.

(Tip: In your profile, do not add any fetishes you may have or put down the number of cats you own, if that number is above three.)

You can sign up at Match.com for free, but that only allows you to “wink” at potential dates which lets them know you’re interested, but you won’t be able to contact them or visa versa. This is somewhat like the digital equivalent of the rule at most strip clubs, “You can see, but you can’t touch.” In order to contact a potential date you have to subscribe to the Match.com service, which you can do for one month, three months, or six months. The longer plan you subscribe to, the cheaper it is per month. I chose six months, which cost me $101.94, because I enjoy buying things in bulk.

Once you’ve become a subscriber, you can now contact potential dates and get rejected electronically, which I admit stings much less than being rejected face-to-face. A wink is a good way to let someone know you’re interested, but contacting them via email is even better and more effective. Don’t worry, the service doesn’t use your actual email, instead they create one specifically for Match.com using your username.

(Tip: If you contact a potential date via email and they don’t reply, please don’t send them another email asking them why they didn’t reply. That is fucking creepy and irritating. Just accept the fact that they’re not interested in you and move on. They were probably out of your league anyway.)

You can search for potential dates and also narrow your searches down to be more specific. So if I wanted to find a 5′2″ Asian woman with a college degree, makes $50,000 a year, and is a sexual Scorpio, I could. The service allows you to save three searches, which I found wasn’t enough for me. I created a search for all the women of Asian persuasion, a search for those who are within five miles from me, and one for those who could become my Sugar Momma, making more than $100,000 a year.

(Tip: The more specific your searches are, the smaller the pool of potential dates gets. Stop being so fucking picky. Go out on some dates and have fun.)

With your profile, you have the option of putting up a picture or two or a dozen or more, depending on how vain you are. While searching for potential dates, about 70 percent of profiles didn’t have a picture. The profiles without a photo are given a plain generic image with the words, “Ask me for my photo” over it, all of which could be considered the digital equivalent of putting a brown paper bag over their faces. I did put up a picture with my profile, because in the particular picture I put up, I look fucking hott. The blurriness of the photo definitely makes me look better, like beer goggles would.

(Tip: Putting up your picture greatly increases the attention you’ll receive. Unfortunately, it also increases the attention you receive from people you don’t want attention from. However, Match.com does offer to block specific users from contacting you. Also, if you’re not interested in someone, you can have Match.com send the other person a nice “No, thanks” for you.)

Within the first few days I received over a dozen winks, which was a total ego boost, although most of them were from women either from the Philippines, Romania, or Indiana. I believe those were spam since their usernames were made out of random letters and numbers, like they slammed their head against their keyboard. These same “women” also had profiles that went something like this:

I the romantic girl, like to have fun, but I have no harmful habits. At me quiet character and before that that to make I all over again I think. I the good friend who always will help a difficult minute. Certainly I have lacks as well as any person, but concerning them I not a complex To me such person will be necessary which to love me and to understand, which will live in the big city and which will not have children I will need to move the man a bark with me on life and to not give in insult.

As the months in my subscription went by, I got fewer and fewer of these blatant spam winks.

(Tip: Do not put in your profile, “I’m shy at first, but I’ll open up as we get to know each other.” So many people use that line that it’s become a cliche. Use “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours…personality, that is.”)

During my six-month subscription, I dated four women. I could tell you about each of them, but I’m a gentleman and we gentlemen don’t talk about our dates…also, some of them read this blog (Hi, Tricia, Terri and Jen!) I enjoyed the dates I went on and all of the women were really nice and a pleasure to talk to. However, none of them turned out to be long-term material because I just didn’t feel that strong of an attraction to any of them and I’m kind of a picky mutherfucker.

Dates were fun, but sadly, perhaps the most entertaining part of the whole Match.com experience was deleting women from my searches, which made me feel like the anti-Cupid, pointing my arrow-shaped mouse cursor at their delete button and breaking their hearts without them even realizing it.

If she had the word “gypsy” in her username, I deleted her. If her username had the words “happy” or “smile” in it, but she’s not smiling in her profile picture, I deleted her. If she typed “a lot” as “alot,” I deleted her. If she looked like she could kick my ass, I deleted her. If her entire profile was done with the CAPS LOCK button on, I deleted her. If she looked like someone who has way too many stuffed animals in her car, I deleted her.

(Tip: Deleting profiles can be more fun if you follow every deletion by saying out loud, “You ain’t good enough for me” or “You ain’t gettin’ none of this.”)

Despite not finding true love, I had an overall positive Match.com experience and renewed my subscription for another six months, which was ten dollars cheaper than the first six months. I think it was successful because I went on more dates in the last six month than the six months before joining Match.com.

There were a few downsides. Being in a smaller market here on this rock in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, new profiles don’t show up as often as I would like and there are many profiles that have been inactive for three weeks or more, making the pool of women even smaller. Also, many profiles didn’t have pictures, making some dates nervously exciting like a blind date or a Craigslist meetup.

(Tip: When meeting a blind date or someone on Craigslist, meet in a very public area or carry a weapon with you.)

If you’re not a bar or nightclub person this would make a great option to meet new people and perhaps find love. It’s cheaper than most other popular online dating services and you don’t have to fill out a long questionnaire. Just because it didn’t work for me, doesn’t mean it won’t work for you.

So again, ladies, I just want to let you know that I’m still available.

Item: Match.com
Price: $101.94 for six month subscription
Purchased at: Match.com
Rating: 4 out of 5
Pros: Great way to meet people. Easy to get started. No long questionnaire to fill out, like eHarmony. Cheaper than most other popular online dating services. The internet. Deleting profiles.
Cons: Didn’t find love. Most profiles didn’t have a photo. Free account only allows you to wink at others, but not send emails. Only able to save three searches. Some wink spam.

Oh, IKEA!

Please do not smite me for not buying any of your Swedish-designed furnishings during my last visit by dropping one of your yellow and blue football field-sized stores on top of me!

I’m sorry that I didn’t purchase any of your cheap furnishings with names that sound like they were created using random Scrabble letters puked out by a five-year-old who didn’t know better. But believe me I wanted to walk out with enough furniture to put my modest two-bedroom apartment through an extreme makeover, but it would be difficult to ship all of it from California to this rock in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, unless you IKEA, made a cheap boat that could be put together with single sheet of simple instructions.

To appease you IKEA, I did not leave totally empty-handed. I purchased one of your IKEA plastic shopping bag for five cents at the checkout counter. Sure, other stores don’t charge me for plastic bags, but I was more than happy to buy one from you so that I don’t get a VIREN or a LILLHOLMEN reamed up any of my orifices by you.

Actually, my friend purchased it and I have yet to pay her back for it. To make up my debt to her, I plan to stand at the corner and flash a little skin at those who pass by and hopefully someone will throw a nickel my way to make me cover myself up. I actually wanted your big blue 59-cent reusable IKEA bag, but I would have to go down on too many people to make that kind of money.

Although, I can reuse your five-cent IKEA shopping bag if I wanted to. I can use it as a trash bag, water bucket, interrogation tool, for a kindergarden sack race, the worst deep sea diver’s helmet EVER, or storage for all the other plastic shopping bags I have. I can also use it for making cheesy rain sound effects in the background whenever I sing the Guns N’ Roses song “November Rain” at karaoke or for making really good plastic shopping bag crumpling sound effects whenever someone is bagging my groceries at the grocery store.

While the bag’s transparency makes it hard to hide from others unwrapped gifts, chopped up body parts, or a collection of Lance Bass clippings from Teen Beat and Tiger Beat magazines, its size is significantly larger than the plastic shopping bags from most grocery stores.

These two attributes make your IKEA Plastic Bag the ideal bag for carrying a baby or toddler…if the bag didn’t say “Esta bolsa no es un juguete, puedo causar sofocacion, mantenga bolsa plastica fuera del alcance de los ninos o bebes.” The transparency of the bag would’ve made it easy to see what a kid is up to, while its size would’ve been able to hold not only a child, but also a few toys, some snacks, and a snorkel to help them breathe.

Well IKEA, hopefully the purchase of your five-cent plastic bag won’t cause you to punish me for not purchasing any of your inexpensive furniture, because I don’t think I could handle the punishment of eating a billion of your delicious Swedish meatballs in a row.

(Editor’s Note: IKEA in the US is now charging five cents per plastic bag to discourage shoppers from using them, which in turn will slightly help reduce the waste caused by plastic bags every year. You can read more about it here.)

Item: IKEA Plastic Bag
Price: 5 cents
Purchased at: IKEA
Rating: 3 out of 5
Pros: Big plastic bag. Big IKEA logo on both sides. Comes with built-in handles. Would make a good kiddie transport, if not for the warnings on the bag. Inexpensive Swedish-designed furnishings.
Cons: Most expensive plastic shopping bag ever. Being punished by IKEA for leaving a store empty-handed. Bad for the environment. Bag’s transparency makes it hard to hide your clippings of Lance Bass. Having clippings of Chris Kirkpatrick. The number of people I’d have to go down on to make 59 cents.

My first girlfriend in college loved giving me greeting cards.

If she loved me more than she loved greeting cards, we might still be together today. Of course, if we stayed together, we probably would’ve had eight kids by now, I would have high blood pressure, I’d be driving a minivan, have a mortgage, The Impulsive Buy definitely wouldn’t exist, and I wouldn’t be writing this review about Uncooked greeting cards.

I learned about her obsession with greeting cards during our first summer apart. She stayed for summer school at the university, while I went home to relax, play golf, and cheat on her.

I’m just kidding about the cheating…or am I? It doesn’t matter now.

Anyway, every week when we were apart, she sent me a greeting card with a letter written in it that let me know how much she missed me. On occasion, she would send me a slightly humorous Hallmark Shoebox greeting card, but most of the time it one of those really serious looking cards with a watercolor painting on the front and with a message in some kind of fancy script that’s usually found on old documents like the Declaration of Independence.

In that fancy script were words from some lonely greeting card writer that usually went something like this: “I watch the river flow by, but my thoughts of you stand still. I close my eyes and imagine that your soul is next to mine. Your image brings a smile to my face and fills my heart with joy, which shall satisfy me until we are able to see each other again.”

::shudder::

Her love of nauseating, overly-poetic, badly-written greeting cards and lack of enthusiasm when giving a BJ made me realize that perhaps she was not the girl for me. It also could’ve been the way she ended every letter with the words, “Your cute little muffin.”

For the record, I never called her my “cute little muffin.”

Okay, once I called her that, but she was the one who asked me in a cutely tone while we snuggled, “Am I your cute little muffin?” I was her boyfriend, so of course I’m supposed to say, “Yes, you are my cute little muffin,” then follow that up with a kiss, and then tell her, “Because you’re my cute little muffin I’m going to nibble on you. Nibble. Nibble.”

Yes, I had to say “Nibble. Nibble.” while I nibbled nibbled. It made it cute, okay? She liked it and that was the ONLY time I ever called her a “cute little muffin.”

Moving on…

Today, I still have all those cards she sent me and they sit in a box labeled in big Sharpie pen letters, “Stuff to Burn Later.” I actually wanted it to be labeled, “Stuff to Burn and Piss On Later,” but that was too many words if I was going to write in big Sharpie pen letters. Also in the box are things I regret having, like my Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch cassette single for “Good Vibrations” and a picture of me wearing woman’s bra while doing a handstand.

I can’t have either of those things around if I decide to run for elected office or if I don’t want anyone to blackmail me. Imagine the money I would have to pay for someone to keep their mouth shut about how I played that Marky Mark cassette over and over again thanks to auto-reverse cassette player technology.

Despite my sappy experiences with greeting cards, I actually like sending them to people. As a matter of fact, for Christmas a few years ago, I gave all my friends and family cards that each had one of fifty ways to get on Santa’s naughty list.

I’m really a fan of Uncooked greeting cards, which I bought a bunch of several months ago. Almost every card is shoot-milk-through-your-nose funny, usually in a dark and twisted way, which is the same way I like my women. There are cards for almost every occasion and feeling, from birthday to get well cards. Although, the lack of proper capitalization in all the cards gets the English major in me a little worked up.

Each card costs $3.25 plus shipping, which may seem a little pricey since you could get a $1.99 Hallmark card. Although, I don’t know about you, but all the people in my life right now are worth more than $1.99.

Besides, would you rather receive an Uncooked card that says, “some mornings when i really miss you i cry into my bowl of cereal and eat my tears” or receive a lame card that says, “The void in my heart can only be filled with your love, which seems so far away. When I stare at the moon, I imagine that it is you staring back at me. Because of this, my nights are full of joy, while my days are full of loneliness. I forward to the days and nights full of joy because you are by my side.”

::shudder::

Item: Uncooked
Price: $3.25 per card
Purchased at: Uncookedland.com
Rating: 4 out of 5
Pros: Twisted funny cards. Free envelope. Cards for almost all occasions. The day I get to burn my box of “Stuff to Burn Later.” Auto-reverse cassette player technology.
Cons: Expensive for tightwads, but cheap for those who truly care about the card’s recipient and think money is trivial in terms of showing how much they care. Having to pay for shipping. Lack of capitalization. Nauseating, overly-poetic, badly-written greeting cards.

I didn’t participate in any drinking games in college because I spent most of my time using myself as a guinea pig for serious sociology research on intense subjects, like finding out what effects playing Sony Playstation six hours a day has on a college student’s grades, seeing if a student can get a passing mark by not going to class throughout the semester and only taking the midterms and final, experiencing what its like to be on academic probation, and perhaps my favorite research topic, losing one’s virginity, which I’m still doing the research on because I have yet to pass first base due to my inability to take off a woman’s bra.

I hear there are many drinking games out there and I imagine they all have the same goal — to get everyone fucked up. Late last year, the Impulsive Buy was sent a portable beer pong table from a company called Pong A Long. At the time, I had no idea what beer pong was, but thanks to Wikipedia and one of my co-workers, who played it a lot at Penn State, I soon had a better understanding of the game.

The setup for beer pong is simple. Get a long table or take a door off of its hinges and place on top of two work horses, then set up ten tall 16-ounce red plastic cups on each end of the table like they were bowling pins, then fill each cup with the cheapest beer you can get your hands on, and then get some ping pong balls, preferrably ones that weren’t from a stripper who shot them out of her vagina.

The rules for beer pong are just as simple. There’s a team on each end of the table and the objective of each team is to make their opponent drink all ten cups of beer in front of them by throwing ping pong balls into the cups. The winner is the team that makes their opponent drink all ten cups first.

Since beer pong isn’t a game I can play by myself, like Monopoly, Jenga, and Solitaire, I needed an opponent. So I decided to play against fellow English degree holder and new Impulsive Buy writer, Stef.

Unfortunately, the both of us are not beer drinkers, but since we both enjoy vodka, we decided to go with Stoli Blueberi vodka and seltzer on the rocks. Now we could’ve shown you pictures of our beer pong game, but we didn’t think it would give you an accurate play-by-play. So using our English degrees, we decided to use the medium of words and express our competitiveness in the form of a rap battle. Enjoy.

Marvo:
The game is beer pong. The winner will definitely be me.
The poison don’t matter, beer or what were using, Stoli Blueberi.
I may have a lower alcohol tolerance, but that’s all right.
This game will be done quick, like a 1980s Mike Tyson fight.
Pong A Long table is out and the twenty red plastic cups are set.
So are you ready to have your ass handed to you, Stef?

Stef:
Whatever, buddy.  That’s all I’ve got to say,
You really think you can take this all the way?
Like Bon Jovi says, you’re “Livin’ on a Prayer,”
You’d be better off playing with some Care Bears.
Get ready to get drunk, loser, you’re through;
My balls are gonna be straighter than Tom Cruise.

Marvo:
Oh, “straighter than Tom Cruise?” I guess I have more hope.
Because his sexual orientation has been the butt of so many jokes.
It’s been five rounds and you haven’t got the ball in a cup.
Like Michelle Wie playing in a men’s event, you won’t make the cut.
With my pinpoint accuracy and rifle arm, there’s no way I can lose.
Need help? I’ve got a rocket scientist to calculate a trajectory you can use.

Stef:
Watching you cross your eyes while you aim is the sexiest thing.
Is your constipated throw and frustrated sigh all you’re gonna bring?
You can’t even hit the table, your accuracy’s a lie.
You throw like a girl, you’ve got nothing between your thighs.
Hurry up and throw it, there’s no need to think.
Hurry up and put it in, I need one of those drinks.

Marvo:
I’m keeping you sober, so I can give you a head start and me a handicap.
You may have made me drink six cups, but get ready for the comeback.
It’s going to be so much sweeter when I come from behind for the win.
It’s going to “Take My Breath Away” like that Top Gun song from Berlin.
I’m a lightweight, but the alcohol isn’t preventing me from making a shot.
Just like one-hit wonder, Buster Poindexter watch me get “Hot Hot Hot.”

Stef:
I’m not calling it a comeback like LL Cool J,
You can’t even hit the table, do you need to stop and pray?
I’m thirsty, want me to throw for you?
You’re certainly not getting anywhere anytime soon.
How’s about this?  I’ll let you keep going until you get one in,
I’m feeling sorry for you, since there’s no way you can win.
Like Pat says, you better “Hit Me With Your Best Shot,”
You’re drunk, you can’t aim, you’re everything I’m not.

Marvo:
The Pong-A-Long table is too long, it’s messing with my depth perception.
Can’t get a ball in, even if I’m aiming straight like a Bob Dole Viagra erection.
Never mind, got a ball in a cup, better drink up, it’ll help you drown the loss.
I’m feeling lucky, like any guy who went out with Mona from Who’s The Boss.
I’m on a roll, I’m knocking down cups fast and now we’re both down to two.
In no time, I’ll make you look like a fool, like a crazy, drunken Paula Abdul.
Hey do you want to listen to a bit of my beer pong champion speech?
“Thanks to those who supported me and the loser for wanting to compete.”

Stef:
I’d like to thank YOU for finally making one.
Geez, I needed a drink like Homey needs fun.
Don’t blame the table for your shortcomings, friend.
It’s your sad little incompetence that’s becoming a trend.
Let’s not forget that I had to give you free throws,
Otherwise we’d both be here until Vern Troyer grows.
So stop with the excuses and throw the damn ball,
I’m ready with my talent, are you ready to fall?

Marvo:
Not if I get you first, even if I’m redder than an ass after a S&M paddle party.
Down to one cup, but I’ll solve this dilemma like sleuths Frank and Joe Hardy.
I’ve got an idea that will help me become the beer pong king.
Jinx! Jinx! Booga booga! Swing batter batter swing!
Like my new tactic? I’d like to now see you get that ball in this red cup.
Jinx! Jinx! Booga booga! Swing batter batter swing! …Oh, fuck!

Stef:
Hell to the yeah, Marvo, you’re totally through.
It’s over like the Super Bowl; feel like the Bears, do you?
Admit you’re a scrub, wear your loser’s crown.
Go retreat to the corner and sit your tragic ass down.
Drink up that final cup, it’s the end of your story,
Like Jon Bon Jovi, you’ve been shot down in a blaze of glory.

Dammit! I suck!

Overall, the Pong A Long 7′ Beer Pong Table is pretty convenient for those who play often, although it is a little pricey for those college students who mostly eat ramen. It folds in half, has a handle and is somewhat lightweight (a little more than 20 pounds), making it portable, but even with it folded in half, it’s still too big to fit into the trunk of my Toyota Corolla, which can comfortably hold three to four dead or alive bodies.

Besides being somewhat portable, it’s well constructed and it only takes seconds to set up…unless you’re already drunk, then it obviously takes longer. How much longer? If you’re a dude, here’s a little equation to help you figure it out:

Your answer will end up being in minutes. So lets say you’re 160 pounds minus the 60 ounces of Bud you just drank multiplied by the three minutes it took you to figure out the hot blond chick across the room has a goatee, then divide that by 60 seconds and it will take you five minutes to set up the Pong A Long table — if you didn’t pass out.

Oh yeah, if you’re drunk, you might want to lay on top of the Pong A Long table because its cool surface will feel good on your skin, much like the tile bathroom floor you’re probably used to.

Item: Pong A Long 7′ Beer Pong Table
Price: FREE (Retails for $64.99)
Purchased at: Given free by Pong A Long
Rating: 4 out of 5
Pros: Portable. Easy to set up, unless you’re drunk. Well constructed. Better than taking a door off of its hinges and then putting it back. Its cool top will feel good on skin when drunk. Can double as a dining table. Beer pong is good fun. Vodka.
Cons: Getting my ass handed to me and feeling a little emasculated. Kinda pricey for most college students. The length of it seems a little too long. Getting a ping pong ball into a red cup is hard. Folding it in half doesn’t make it small enough to fit into the trunk of some cars. I throw like a girl. Not knowing how to remove a woman’s bra.

I used to sleep on a futon bed that easily transformed into a couch. If you lift one side up, the other side comes down and it forms a couch. Of course, that’s the only up and down action that futon bed has ever seen since I’ve owned it.

Recently, I picked up the Sealy Posturepedic Sapphire SE Ultra Plush Euro Pillowtop Mattress, or NAMBLA for short. I ended up with a full sized version because it was the only clearance model left and I expect my bachelor ass to be sleeping alone for a very long time.

::tear::

Its original price was over $2,000, but the salesman said he had to get rid of it to make room for the new Sealy Posturepedic Sapphire SE Ultra Plush Euro Pillowtop Mattress II, or NAMBLA II for short. So I ended up getting an 83 percent discount on it and paid $342.93 for it, not including the box spring, delivery, and the bed frame, which brought the total to about $530.

I REALLY wanted a bed shaped like a heart that rotated and vibrated with red and black tiger print silk sheets on top of it. However, I realized that I should have something practical. Although, a heart-shaped bed that rotates and vibrates with red and black tiger print silk sheets is actually practical…but only when making sweet, sweet lovin’.

I’ve been sleeping on the Sealy Posturepedic Sapphire SE Ultra Plush Euro Pillowtop Mattress for the past four days and it’s definitely an upgrade from my previous bed. But then again, almost ANYTHING would’ve been a step up from my futon bed, like a hobo’s flattened refrigerator cardboard box or the multiple-body-fluid-stained mattress of a three dollar crack whore.

It’s a REALLY comfortable bed and probably the best one I’ve ever slept on. The Sealy Posturepedic Sapphire SE Ultra Plush Euro Pillowtop Mattress is even more comfortable thanks to the 300 thread count sheets I bought for it.

If you haven’t slept on 300 thread count sheets and still are sleeping on your 1980s Transformers or My Little Pony bed sheets, I’d suggest you definitely upgrade. High thread count sheets feel really good, just as good as red and black tiger print silk sheets.

Perhaps the major reason why the Sealy Posturepedic Sapphire SE Ultra Plush Euro Pillowtop Mattress is so comfortable is because it’s FRICKIN’ THICK. The mattress itself is 13 inches thick. Add the box spring and the bed frame and the total height of my bed is 30 inches. My roommate’s bed is only 20 inches tall.

If only my bed was 63,330 inches taller and I could find a woman willing to make sweet, sweet lovin’ with me, then I could join the Mile High Club.

Thirty inches is a little too tall and I have to admit that I do have to jump a little to get onto my bed, but that’s not the real problem about my bed’s height. The real problem is when this happens (Quicktime required).

Item: Sealy Posturepedic Sapphire SE Ultra Plush Euro Pillowtop Mattress
Price: $342.93 (Mattress Only)
Purchased at: Sears
Rating: 4 out of 5
Pros: REALLY comfortable. Definitely an upgrade from a futon bed. Red and black tiger print silk sheets. Getting an 83 percent discount. 300 thread count sheets.
Cons: When this happens. Having to jump a little to get onto my bed. Those still using 1980s Transformers or My Little Pony sheets. NAMBLA, but not my NAMBLA. Sleeping on a multiple-body-fluid-stained mattress of a three dollar crack whore.