The Pope is dope and here’s why

We all have families that are a little crazy, and nothing brings that out like the holiday season. But in true New Year’s fashion, it’s time to reflect on the progress that has come out of the last year. And for me, that progress is the result of one guy who’s managed to soften my family’s unique craziness. So cheers to you, Pope Francis!

Things You Forgot to Do before Coming Home for Winter Break

1.     Block your relatives on social media: The last four posts on your wall are questions about when you get home and feature a lot of xoxo’s. During Christmas dinner you’ll have to answer questions about why you were laying in a street covered in body glitter and were you actually sleeping on that bar or just posing?

2.     Clean up your mouth:  No longer are you only surrounded by people between the ages of 18-23.  Your parents will be shocked when you casually tell your dog you’re going to cunt punt him if he doesn’t stop licking you, and your small cousins will stand wide-eyed as you discuss politics with your uncle referring to foreign leaders as “fucking little pricks” and the republican political agenda as a “steaming pile of honkey shit”.

This is not pajamas. You cannot wear this. (via thebeveragestore.com)

3.     Bring home pajamas: When traveling back home, it can be hard to find space in your suitcase between your dirty laundry and the left over Skol handle you’re hoping will get you through new years.  Pajamas are usually the first thing you forego, but this is a big mistake.  Upon returning home you will find out your mom has sent your old high school sports sweat pants to Goodwill.  Sleeping naked was an option until you found out all six of your cousins under the age of 12 will be sleeping in your room this holiday season. Looks like jeans it is!

4.     Find a significant other:  We all have those family members who immediately after commenting on how old you look[1] decide that the next step is to bring to the surface your loneliness by asking if your dating.  NO AUNT JEAN I’M SINGLE. OH YOU FOUND YOUR HUSBAND IN COLLEGE? DROP DEAD.  Of course, there is also the question of whether or not you can refer to that kid you make out with every so often who sometimes text you for stats help as your boyfriend/girlfriend to a family member.  I’d say just count it.

5.     Get good grades: You return home excited for a few weeks of Netflix and naps.  What you forgot though was that the first question out of your parents mouth will be about the state of your GPA, and you spent the past quarter being carried home from parties and watching YouTube videos of people saying dumb shit after waking up from surgery.  The only option at this point is to bring attention to how most of your cousins go to state schools, which automatically makes you superior in all ways.  If that doesn’t work just lie.  The best way to spread Christmas cheer is by lying mercilessly out of fear.  No one has to know until you graduate, without honors.

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[1] FYI if they are still saying this after you have finished growing it means you look tired as fuck and should probably stop staying up all night taking shots of tequila and playing Mario Party.

How to Build Your Resumé with Awkward Comments from Your Relatives

We’re just a few short weeks away from the beginning of internship application season, or if you’re not in school, “another week of trying to get employed” season. Writing a resumé is a surefire way to decimate your confidence as a hirable individual. Fortunately, you can ride the depressing low of the holidays and insert your relatives’ opinions of you to round out the “special abilities” section of your already tepid resumé.

“Taller”

The most commonly uttered comment by relatives. It’s safe and probably true. Now you can reach things most people can’t, or at least reach things that children can’t, like a

Fuck This Tree

Fuck this tree.

This fucking tree. I promise I don’t normally start stories in medias res, but I can’t help it. This tree is a giant, nine-foot, demonic, home-wrecking, total piece of fucking shit.

Commandant L.S., face full of Christmas rage.

I say this as I stand next to my family’s royal failure of a tenenbaum, something which even Linus from Charlie Brown would be ashamed to be associated with. This tree has taken so much time from me, enacted so much emotional stress on my family, that I can’t help it if I no longer see it as an inanimate fucking object. It’s got a life of its own. It’s a damn demon tree. I’ve stood next to it, supporting it, for the last 90 minutes, trying to keep it from falling over again. I only momentarily take my hands off of it to help unwind the garland and remove the ornaments, and I swear it knows that I’m starting to trust that it won’t fall over, so it decides to make a move to take out the window behind me.

Like most disasters one lives through, I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when the tree first fell, a little over two hours ago. Except that, like most disasters one lives through, the trauma of the event likely prevented my memory from working correctly. I think I was playing video games in my room at home, waiting for my buddy to call me back about going out for a beer. But for all I really know, I was furiously masturbating to a Celine Dion song in the furnace closet down the hall when my mom shouted up to me.

How to Deal with Your Family This Holiday Season

With winter break upon us, many of us will be back at home spending time with our families. To some of us, this sounds like a great chance to reunite with the people you love the most. However, to many of us, this is a nightmarish scenario that you have dreaded since you left for school. Have no worries, we here at Sherman Ave are ready to guide you through interactions with every family member this holiday season (And by “holiday season,” I really mean Christmas, because Hanukkah is over and there has yet to be sufficient proof that Kwanzaa exists).

Ugh. These assholes.

Dad

What to expect: You know he’s going to be an asshole from the get go. He will be asking questions about your grades before he says hello. That’s just his style. The trick here is not giving away that you regularly sleep until 1 pm and don’t go to most of your classes. If you keep the jig up, he might just keep paying for tuition.

Make sure to say: “It’s like a common Northwestern practice to drop two classes.”

Mom

20 Great Ways to Ruin Thanksgiving for Everyone

Sherman Ave writers are thankful for the bad people in the world who are reading Sherman Ave on Thanksgiving. Here are some things you can do to make us proud.

The Seven People You Meet At Thanksgiving

Every Thanksgiving, college students across the nation make the trek home to see their parents, wash their clothes and stuff their facemouths with mashed potatoes that DON’T come from a box. Even at Northwestern, where we get a whole 48 hours off from midterms to give thanks, many students make their way back to their homes for the Halfway To Christmas Feast.

A Comprehensive Guide to Mitt Romney

Fearlessly saying whatever it takes to be President of these United States of America since ’07.

Every 7 minutes I get a notification from my CNN app. “A recent CNN poll has Romney leading in Florida with 50%, Obama 49%.” “According to a recent poll, Obama is ahead in Ohio with 51%, Romney close behind with 48%.”  Obama is leading in Florida. Romney is leading in Ohio. Obama in Iowa. Romney in Wisconsin. Obama in Ohio. Romney in New Hampshire. Obama in Wisconsin. Romney in Florida.

If one thing is clear about the atrocious excuse for democracy that is this presidential election, it’s that the race is tighter than Paul Ryan’s pecs. Because it’s entirely possible that Barack-star won’t get reelected, it’s time we familiarize ourselves with the alternative. This guide contains all the information that you could ever need to know about the Republican candidate.

Will the real Mitt Romney please stand up?

Full Name: Willard Mittingtons Romney III

Childhood nickname: Mittens the Kitten

How he got his childhood nickname: He fucking built it

Childhood hobbies: Lincoln Logs, Etch-a-Sketch

Early education: Cranbrook High School (other notable alumni include the guy who B-Rabbit rap battles at the end of 8 Mile).

College: Stanford for a hot second, then transferred to Brigham Young University (a transfer that would’ve made a lot more sense the other way around, but whatevs).

Vietnam War: He went on a mission trip to France instead.

Early career: Made the moniez at Bain Capital.

Salt Lake City Olympics: He built that shit.

Family: Beautiful wife Ann, 5 strapping boys named Tagg, Tucker, Joseph, Capital, and Small Business*

Position on abortion: He’s pro-choice, except he’s a pro-life pro-choice. He’s pro-life except for cases of rape and incest, except for the cases of rape and incest for which he does not make exceptions.

Gay marriage: NONONO. NO. Sanctity of marriage. Traditional American values. Importance of the family. Other things that Republicans say.

Foreign Policy: Unilateral approach. Also, London sucks. Romneylympics were like sooooo much better.

Economics: Success, individual initiative, business=good. Dependency, government programming, the 47%=bad. Taxes bad. Romney no likey.

Healthcare: Supports universal healthcare. In favor of a mandate that orders all citizens to have health insurance. That being said, he is against the tyrannical, socialist, and unconstitutional piece of dogshit  that is Obamacare.

ROMNEY/RYAN 2k12 NO REGRETZ

*Small Business later added a footnote to the end of his name, so he became Small Business[1]

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[1] No this is not a reference to my genitalia

Eight Statements You Should Never Make

Want to know how to make yourself look slightly ignorant? Here are several ideas you may insert into one of many orifices you find difficult to clean in the shower.

“I really hate the taste of aspartame.”
No, you hate the thought of aspartame. Your body is wired to like sweet things, but your mind knows that you are consuming Franken-sugar. In the immortal words of Very Mary-Kate: “You know how you can’t eat meat anymore once you know where meat comes from?” That’s you, Ms. “I Won’t Eat It If It’s Not Organic, Leafy, And Hasn’t Touched An Animal With A 39½ Foot Pole.” Congrats on your mental victory; I’m slightly jealous and mostly derisive.

Special mention to anyone who says they hate chocolate without a valid excuse. You’re either lying or there’s something wrong with you.

Dawg, Mozart's "Requiem" is my jam

“If you play Mozart to babies they’ll be smarter.”
If you had done your goddamn research, you’d realize that this is actually an extreme extrapolation by the media off of a 1993 cognition study where researchers measured the effects of sound on spatio-temporal reasoning. They played music (which HAPPENED to be Mozart) to Group 1 for ten minutes, a “relaxation tape” to Group 2 for ten minutes, and complete silence to Group 3 for ten minutes, then immediately gave them some mind puzzles. The ones who’d been listening to music did better.

The finding had nothing to do with Mozart; scientists have reproduced this study with other music. The finding was because Groups 1 and 2 weren’t bored as hell listening to rainforest noises or their own borborygmi for a period of time in which they could’ve Sporcled every 90’s song ever written at least three times. It was a temporary effect on a specific type of reasoning and it wasn’t caused by Mozart. But listening to music before you start your next 2,000,000-piece puzzle may help you for ten minutes afterwards.* Now put down the Baby Mozart tapes, they’re not going to give your kid a Flowers-For-Algernon IQ boost. C’mon, we all know that most of us Bienen kids can’t count past four. But you should still check out Schubert.

“I’m so fat.”
Unlike the rest of this list, this one could be true. But regardless of the statement’s verity, rarely does the speaker believe it. No further explanation, y’all know what I mean. I have a secret fantasy of giving a silent staredown to every kumquat of every size that ever regales me with this phrase. I will watch their faces as they realize I refuse to bite on their compliment-fishing line. Unfortunately, having a guilt complex blows.

“Girls don’t fart.”
Welcome to 2012, where vaginas don’t preclude one from anal salutations. Ellie K can flatulate with the best of you bean-gobbling fools.

“I’m fuckin’ awesome.”
If I didn’t notice, you shouldn’t have to tell me.

She's not wearing anything under that... thing

“Fashion is about sex.”- Vivienne Westwood.
Thank you, Sigmund Freud.

First off, raise your hand if you possess a penis and give a flying fuck about fashion. It’s normal to ask yourself in the morning if you look like you might smell. But fashion extremists feel a level of consternation at the question of whether it’s still “in” to leave open the bottom button of your blazer. Now, if your hand is in the air, you’re either in the minority or in the process of dancing.

And now ladies (and gay men), when have you ever gotten dressed in the morning with the burning desire that an attractive manly man will seize you in a frenzied passion after noticing that you’ve matched your hat to your belt buckle? Yeah, me neither. Most men don’t give a damn if you’re wearing Lilly Pulitzer or pajama bottoms or a pillowcase with sequins if you’re their type and DTF. If fashion and sex are related, they are third cousins twice removed. Case closed.

“The Sodomites in the Bible were punished because they were gay.”
Not exactly. Summary of the story:

According to the Bible, Sodom and Gomorrah were two cities known for being full of motherfuckers. Not the kind you find in New York — we’re talking rape in the name of shits n’ giggles. In Sodom, it was illegal to help strangers, which pretty much goes against everything that real, love-thy-neighbor Christians believe. So God sent some angels to walk around town, and a man named Lot, being the generous guy he was, offered them his home so they didn’t have to sleep outside in the dangerous city. The Sour Motherfuckers in the city got wind that there were strangers in town, surrounded Lot’s house, and told Lot to send them out so they could rape them.** That is agreed upon in two separate passages of the Bible. The Sodomites’ sin, according to Everything About Sodom In The Bible, wasn’t homosexuality, it was a lack of goodwill towards strangers. Does anyone see the irony in the citation of these passages by those hoping to exclude gays from everything under the sun?

“Sherman Avenue isn’t heinous.”
I will see to it that you die painfully, you empty-headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction.

Because, see, I can do that.

“The heinous behind us and the heinous before us are tiny matters compared to the heinous within us” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

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*Warning: You should not rely on a Mozart-induced spatio-temporal IQ burst to save you from a two million piece puzzle.
**There’s a bit where Lot’s like, “You could rape my virgin daughter or my concubine instead of these dudes I just met, because apparently it’s okay not to respect women, my family, or women in my family.” Conflicting accounts in Judges and Genesis then say that either the Sodomites raped the hell out of his poor concubine, or the angels in the house blinded the offending Sodomites before anyone got raped and warned Lot to skip town.

4 Nuisances Of Being Home

They say there’s no place like home. While it has been quite fantastic to spend some time relaxing at home with my family now that finals are over, there are certain aspects of being home that I had forgotten how much I don’t like. Indeed, sadly, home doesn’t consist solely of gourmet food and a nice bed. So without further ado, I present – in all my glorious bitching – four things that have bothered me since I’ve come home.

Nothing says "Christmas" like a shouting match with your father over light placement

4. Putting Up Christmas Lights
There’s just nothing like a Christmas tradition. Every December, my parents hand me a string of sorry-ass fucking Christmas lights and a ladder (which, incidentally, is about as stable as the Zambian government) and give me one objective: Make the 25-foot leafless tree in front of our house look slightly more festive and slightly less flaccid. It’s especially fun when, after an hour spent climbing around the tree like a paraplegic chimpanzee, I finish decorating the tree to discover that approximately a quarter of the lights actually function. Ultimately, though, it’s worth the Christmas cheer. Every time I look at that pathetic tree and the lights which appear to have been put up by a blind lemur, I am filled with an overwhelming sense of holiday spirit. And by holiday spirit, I mean uncontrollable rage.

3. Losing To My Parents in Scrabble
I don’t know about you guys, but I love shit-talking (Side note: Being from Denver, Tim “The Jesus” Tebow has regaled me with a whole anthology of shit-talking materials). Therefore, when my parents suggest a casual post-dinner Scrabble game, I immediately acquire the attitude of a theoretical lovechild of Terrell Owens and Pau Gasol. This shit-talking strategy pays off richly, seeing as I often demolish my parents and subsequently run naked victory laps around the dining room table. And this isn’t me bragging about my Scrabble skills; the case is rather that my parents don’t give two shits about whether or not their placement of “twat” (I truly wish I were lying about my dad playing that in Scrabble) opens up availability to the Triple Word space. Tonight, however, my shit-talking strategy failed me, as I fell short by one point against my mom. Ugh. Now I just feel like a douche.

2. Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
I never thought it would be possible to make such a trainwreck out of a movie starring Natalie Portman, Ewan McGregor, and Samuel L. Jackson, but damn it all if it hasn’t been done. I mean, seriously, what a steaming cinematic shitstack. The kid who starred as Anakin Skywalker (out of principle, I’m not looking up the little fucker’s name) is more obnoxious than the Nyan Cat on methamphetamines. And Jar Jar Binks? I don’t know whose idea it was to combine the voice of an illiterate Louisiana swamp-person with the visual representation of a banana peel with birth defects, but that idea single-handedly ruined my childhood. Honestly, the only thing they could have done to make this movie any worse would be casting Nick Cage as Senator Palpatine. Yeah, just imagine it.

"To the nights you wish you could forget."

1. Vodka Commercials
Maybe this is something I’m just noticing now because I spend 8 hours a day watching TV (luhhhh vacation), but vodka commercials are absolutely preposterous. The one that I find most personally absurd is a Grey Goose commercial, featuring the tagline: “To the nights you’ll never forget.” I don’t know what sort of idiots are running the marketing department over at Grey Goose, but they clearly lack a fundamental understanding of alcohol. Granted, the tagline “To the nights you’ll blackout and then discover five weeks later that you vomited gratuitously” isn’t quite as catchy, but it is certainly more accurate. It just seems that somewhere in the attempt to craft a convincing image-based appeal, the morons over at Grey Goose forgot some of the drawbacks of downing vodka. If I were Grey Goose, I’d try something more along the lines of “To the poke wars you drunkenly initiated with the entirety of your high school government class” or “To the texts you receive from your mom the next morning saying ‘You might want to take that video off of Facebook.’”