It's Saturday Night. I'm Super Excited to...

Lowbrow Answer: Get Drunk at a Bar.
Can somebody please explain bars to me? I don't get it. You stand in a tiny room that smells like the inside of the machine they use to pump the stomachs of freshmen girls at Florida State so that you can overpay for shitty alcohol and yell into your friends' ears from seven inches away. Man, that sounds awesome. I can see why EVERYBODY loves it so much. Sign me up.

Who are you meeting at these places? Any girl who's even remotely attractive is surrounded by three fatties and a gay dude, anyway. At minimum, talking to her will cost you four Vodka-Sodas and a healthy groping from "Paul." Gag me. Instead, why not just drink the four Vodka-Sodas yourself and watch in amazement as the ugly girls you had previously ignored transform into Penelope Cruz.


Middlebrow Answer: Dance My Face Off.
Dancing rules. It's the only social interaction that allows you to ram your junk into some girl's crotch without being maced. Plus you're on your feet and getting some exercise. Good for you. Keep at it. Maybe someday you'll loose that Freshman Fifteen and people will like you again.

Hey. Legions of white dudes in button-downs and polo shirts. Learn how to dance or stay the fuck out of my way. I don't come to your stupid football games and try to jump in at Wide-Receiver; don't come to my club and jerk around arhythmically while you make "fag" jokes and drink Corona. Ladies - you're partly to blame for this. If you see a douchebag who can't dance; don't dance with him. You wouldn't get into a car with somebody who didn't know how to drive, would you?


Highbrow Answer: Stay Home and Read Proust
Can you say, "Clinically depressed existential French repressed homosexual?" Proust can! This dude is the man. He starts writing essays at the age of eleven, he founds a literary review while he's still in school, and and he literally becomes nocturnal in his later years. He's most famous for a seven-part epic novel called, "À la Recherche du Temps Perdu," which loosely translates to, "I'm Marcel-fucking-Proust, Who the Hell are You?"

Home is great. All your shit is there, you don't have to pay for anything, and you can do whatever you want. Feel like eating a peanut butter and pickles sandwich? Go for it! Need to watch Die Hard 2? All yours! Wanna dry hump your teddy bear while listening to Michael Bolton and crying about your ex-girlfriend? Be my guest! You're in charge! Huzzah!

Best Flightless Bird?

Lowbrow Answer: Turkeys
Was somebody making a joke when these things were invented? Huge fat body, little tiny bald head, and a goatee made of skin. Consequently, I'm pretty sure "Skin Goatee" is the name of Jenna Jameson's latest project. The turkey did get a bit unlucky with the whole Thanksgiving thing. Imagine if there were a holiday that was basically dedicated to eating you. Probably sends your life insurance premium through the roof.

And what's with the gobble? It sounds like somebody trying to play a trumpet underwater. Of all the scary animal noises in the world, from growls to roars, the turkey gets the gobble? That's some genetic misfortune if I've ever seen it. Kinda like being born with only one eye or having Paris Hilton as a sister.


Middlebrow Answer: Penguins
Instant points for always wearing a tuxedo and for hanging out in an environment that can get as cold as 1800 degrees below zero or some crazy shit. I admire your class in the face of certain death. Reminds me of death row inmates who insist on brushing their teeth and combing the hair for their big day.

Here's the bad news, fellas. You all look like butlers. Or limo drivers. Or waiters, depending on the restaurant. You also spend most of your time sliding around on your belly and swimming, which basically means you spend all day in a water park. Highbrow people spend all day lamenting the fall of humanism, not plunging down The Geronimo at Surf Coaster.


Highbrow Answer: Silkies
Look at this thing. Have you ever seen a more arrogant-looking animal in your life? I want to beat it up right now and I've never even met one. Its feathers are soft and silky (hence the name), it has blue earlobes, and it's one of the only birds in the chicken family with five toes instead of only four. I can just see it strutting around the forest, mocking the other animals by waving its five fingers and reciting Proust.

The silkie was first discovered by Marco Polo, who wrote about "chickens with fur-like plumage" during his travels in the 13th century. Badass. Being in Marco Polo' s journals is kind of like being in the Bible. Middle school-age children will be forced to read about you for the rest of time.