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Friday, March 30, 2012

City Lights Bookstore – Bro, They Sell a Lot of Sick Books, Nuff Said!


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Bro, they sell a lot of sick books, nuff said! Nothing is sweeter than the mint feeling that a bro and his chick could get from reading to each other or reading with each other, ya know. This place has like one of the most pure wicked collections of sweet books around. I would freakin’ love to get a sick gift certificate or wicked book from this place for my birthday or May Two-Four. I was actually thinking about this mint coming-of-age novel idea about this young girl whose like pure coming to terms with the changes that life throws at her, bro. Along her journeys she befriends like this totally sweet older woman whose guidance pure changes her whole way of looking at stuff, ya know? And then like sadly the old lady dies and the girl whose all like freakin’ pure grown up by now, like falls in love with this dude and they go through all these freakin’ hardships together and stuff gets serious for a bit, right? But then stuff gets freakin’ weird, right? And she doesn’t know what she freakin’ wants because girls are freakin’ weird like that, even the mint ones. So he’s all like “serious, what’s the deal?” and he follows her and stuff so he gets all up in her like “What? I thought you were freakin’ into me and stuff and now there’s this freakin’ weird stuff going on, and I thought that stuff was all cool and we were freakin’ good, and stuff bro” and she’s all like “That freakin’ old lady from before, right? She told me that life’s freakin’ weird and stuff and that sometimes your stuff gets all messed up and you don’t know what’s going on and that you gotta freakin’ just do your own thing for real, because whatever, I don’t freakin’ know everything, like what’s the big deal here?” The working title is ‘Mint Tina’, because that chick in it, her name’s Tina, right?

Review by UHpinionist Greg M.

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Thursday, March 29, 2012



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ok where do i begin?

well as soon as i walked i felt uncomfortable. it was like being a gay black jew in the south, even though im a straight white catholic in New York.

there was every manner of redneck and white trash in that dump. im pretty sure i even saw an obese gothic woman chain smoking.

but i continued on because i had friends that wanted some cheap food.

so i had 4 dollars left, thats all, i thought it would buy me some sort of sandwich or something. i spent a minute looking at the menu, nothing but huge, lard covered all-american shit-on-a-bun’s all for $5 or so. so i thought, screw it ill just get the cheapest thing there.

i walk up on an obscure line, were there is no real beginning. after reaching the cashier, she asked me what i wanted. i stated i wanted a w cheeseburger (or something like that). she does not tell me how much it costs, she doesnt tell me if thats all that i wanted, she just yells out next, and some ass with a smartphone in his hands thinking he’s freaking king of the neanderthals pushes up to were im standing.

i look at the receipt, just to make sure its under $4. it was $4.30 or something, even though the sign says $4. i ask her if i can change my order, i dont have enough money, and she says, either keep going and change it at the front cashier.

so unwilling to go back to the end of that “line” i keep going. i then change my order. the lady at the front is confused and brings the manager. i repeatedly try to tell here that i do not want the damn sandwich anymore. she then asks me what do i want instead, i asked for a caramel frosty shake. she at that point asked again if i still wanted the sandwich. i replied yet again NO.

so after waiting SEVERAL minutes, after my friends have already eaten, and many people who ordered the same as i had theirs, i finally get my order. only it was a parfait. who on earth mixes up parfait with milkshake? the lady who made it blamed it for reading the screen wrong. turns out that you dont have to read to get a job.

so i finally get my damn milkshake. $3.04 for something that looks like half a McDonalds small, which would have cost me $1.50 or so. and i FREAKING swear someone jizzed in my cup

Review by UHpinionist Jakub T.

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Thursday, January 26, 2012

A Sandwich for My Birthday!

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So, I’m sitting at home on my birthday, reading this website. My aunt yells from downstairs “I’m buying you lunch for your birthday, my wonderful niece!”

I come downstairs, and there she is like a hero, Jimmy John’s menu in hand. F*** YEAH! I LOVE Jimmy John’s.

After a few minutes of her deliberating over the menu like her decision was going to change the fate of the planet, she decided on the “Big John”.

Another 5 minutes of deliberation ensued, because I expressed to her how uncomfortable I was, for obvious reasons, about calling a stranger and ordering something called a “Big John”. I felt like maybe i was ordering a male prostitute. So we settled on calling it a “Number 2″. Which now, come to think of it, also sounds kinda gross when you’re calling a stranger on the telephone. I digress…

So, I call up Jimmy Johns. We order from there once a week because of their fresh deliciousness and it was my birthday, so i was ready to get my sammich on!

Apparently I’m out of their delivery area? Just a sec, I tell the girl, we order once a week.
Did the cosmos shift, and all of a sudden we were more than 1.2 miles from Jimmy John’s? NOPE!
Now, I watch people order from the turkey hill DIRECTLY ACROSS THE STREET from me ALL THE TIME. The delivery guy always drives 5 minutes down the road and has to double back to find my house. “We only go as far as Rutherford” they tell me. My house is before Rutherford. By 5 minutes….

So, you can understand why this makes no sense to me.

I’ve made a decision. I’m going to walk to the development BEHIND my house, a little birthday walk, if you will. And I’m going to call and order my sandwich. And then I’m going to show the delivery driver, gently, that my house is in their delivery range.
Also, I wont order there again after that. Because screw them, that’s why. I’m a girl. I know PMS when i see it. That chick on the phone, yeah her. She’s got PMS.

Review by UHpinionist Brittney F.

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Friday, September 2, 2011

The $5 Box Remix at Taco Bell

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I can’t say that I’ll never go to Taco Bell again…because that would be a lie. Like everybody else in the entire world, this is not my first experience with Taco Bell. My experiences with the food and the establishment have always been quite favorable.

But after ordering the $5 Box Remix at Taco Bell, my view on the restaurant completely changed. And, please, let me preface this. It was not the Taco Bell Franchise or the items contained within the $5 box that has resulted in such a poor review, but one punk-ass teenager that decided to pull a stunt:

It was a typical, quiet, late Monday night in the dorms when I decided to go “south of the border”. All my friends were studying for tests, and I was hungry for some 4th meal. I had seen the $5 Box Remix commercial earlier in the night and so I decided to make the trip to Taco Bell.

I should have been suspicious when I pulled through to the window after ordering. The freckled fuck that took my money had a giant grin on his face. He was up to something, I just didn’t realize yet.

Naturally, I gave him my money, and he handed me a bag, containing my $5 box, and a medium Baja Blast. I put the food in the passenger seat and headed back to the dorm (a good 15 minute drive).

When I arrived, I set the bag on the table and turned on some old 30 Rock episode on Netflix. I took a couple sips of my drink and reached into the bag.

Item #1: ah, the Crunchy Taco. A staple of the franchise. I devoured it without even thinking.

I reached into the bag again…

Item #2: Burrito Supreme! Such a delicious feast. It took me a tad bit longer to enjoy this treat, but finished it all the same

I reached into the bag a final time…

Item #3: Cheesy Double Beef Burr- (something was wrong…even before the burrito had left the bag, I could tell that the paper it was wrapped in felt different)

I removed the item out of the bag and it was obvious.

This was not the typical wrapping paper they put the Cheesy Double Beef Burritos in, but a crumpled-up page from a magazine.

Out of shear curiosity, I decided to unwrap my burrito.

Monumental mistake.

It took me all of 3 seconds to realize what my burrito had been wrapped in.

There, printed on the crumpled paper, was the photo of the most vile, disgusting vagina you have ever seen. This thing was so gaped open, I think I caught glimpse of the chick’s pancreas. This thing had jowels.  It looked like a bulldog had gotten into a jar of Miracle Whip.

I’m not sure where (or really, who) found this revolting image, but it had been wrapped around by Cheesy Double Beef Burrito!

Immediately, I started dry heaving.

I managed to grab my keys and high-tail it back to the taco bell. By the time I got there, the fucking place was closed.

I went back there the next day, and talked to the manager. I told him exactly what happened and described the kid who had given me my food, right down to his fucking gay-ass freckles. I gave the manager my number but he still hasn’t called me. (I don’t know if its because he doesn’t know who the employee is or if he even really cared about the situation.)

But I’ll go back to Taco Bell again. Maybe to look for the asshole who wrapped my burrito in porn, or maybe to grab a cheesy gordita crunch. Only time will tell.

Review by UHpinionist Drew G.

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