(Totally not joking)- and a complete lack of suitable material to subject to my white-hot wit. To assuage these feelings of abandonment that I am positive you must be suffering, I have returned triumphant with the following treasures from far-distant lands.
A strange phenomenon has been occurring at my gas station lately. Namely, someone keeps stealing my soda cup. This does not actually pose any real problem, as both cups and soda are free for the taking to any employee. However, due to some sense of propriety, I have tried various methods of preventing such an unfortunate event. At first, just putting my name on the cup seemed to work. Eventually, though, someone must have mistaken my mark of ownership for the name of the cup itself, and decided that they could not pass up an object which had managed to assert it's own identity. This was followed by a double marking of my name, giving a pleasing 360ยบ panorama of Jonathon. I can only assume that these sorts of cups have become collector's items in some niche market, as this cup was kidnapped in even less time than the first. Sensing that some other tactic was in order, I inscribed this message on the cup in bold red marker, (at a time when it was believed that my cups were simply being discarded):
"I'm afraid of the garbage can, please don't make me go in there!"This appeal to the culprit's moral sensibilities appeared to have its desired effect, until today when, returning from my week-long sabbatical, I discovered my cup was missing once more. I realized then that I was dealing with a more menacing foe than I had initially though, and judged that my newest cup would need a much more terrifying message:
"A powerful curse awaits all those who dare to disturb this prized cup."I have not as yet decided on exactly what this curse might entail, but hopefully the mere suggestion of such a fate will deter any would be thieves.
Throughout my time at BP, I have received a number of calls intended for our local Pizza Hut, which by some Nick Danger-esque twist of fate has a phone number exactly one digit off from our own. At first I answered all calls as "BP #20, how may I help you?" Judging by the majority of callers, it is possible through some trick of the ear for two letters and a number to sound like "Pizza Hut", encouraging them to continue under this assumption. Bewildered, I began to make sure that I included the phrase "gas station" with every greeting. Though this stopped short the majority of unintentional calls, I still received one today in which a woman informed me that she wanted to order two pizzas for pickup. When I replied that she had called a gas station and not a creator of doughy delicacies, there was a noticeable pause, as if she were determining just how much of an impact this had on her ability to order a pizza from this number. I await with bated breath the day that some oblivious citizen waltzes into the store, right up to the counter, and goes so far as to inquire about the status of their two large pepperonis, perhaps with a side of "cheesy stix".
Like some daydream fantasy made manifest, this video deftly illustrates the possibilities available to you at college, if only you possess the bravado required to pull it off. There is also a sequel of sorts set in their campus library. For some time now I have been itching to take part in such public frivolities, having been inspired by this website's instructions for constructing my very own Mario Question Block.
The final coup-de-grace in solidifying my need to commit such an act were these videos.
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