These are the best pens in the world

In Superimportant's tireless quest to take the pain & frustration out of your life, we present to you the conclusive conclusion on what we know for you has been a painful, tiring quest. We can say with authority that Uni-ball Vision pens are the best. That's it. The best. The best what? Pen. The best pen. Nothing more needs to be said.

But we'll say more. For years, we have used these pens for our stunning & groundbreaking artwork. Let us remind you that we buy these pens in bulk at Staples. Not some fancy art store where they try to convince you that moleskine is worth it, but Staples, where no one gives a crap about anything you do. The smooth, unbroken line is not as variable in weight as you can get with a traditional fountain pen, but with a light touch and some persistence, one can achieve a variety of density with this low cost pen.

The color is solid and deeply black. At times, the wet ink may smudge, but that's only because we have this way of writing where it looks like we're a lefty, but we use our right hand. People have been pointing and laughing at us because of this for years. It's a source of great humiliation, so we'd appreciate it if you didn't really bring it up.

Furthermore, and this is important, we now now that when you inevitably leave your pen in the pocket of your shorts when doing your laundry, it will not burst, completely ruining all of your clothes. Which brings me to a point about cargo shorts and why maybe we'll just give up on them and wear plaid golf shorts from now on. Who really needs all those pockets anyway? And how are we supposed to remember what's in all of them? How many washed $20 bills is it going to take? How many packs of Now & Laters stuck to my ass is it going to take? How many cellphones have to be lost to the unforgiving maelstrom of the 24 hour laundromat? Enough with the pockets! As if it wasn't hard enough figuring out what that mystery inner pocket inside the right front pocket is all about. It hurts my fingers to try & get errant change out of that inexplicable thing.

In conclusion, just go with the uni-balls. But don't shop at Staples during the week before college starts. It's a goddamn madhouse in there.

I seriously can't get enough of Entenmann's Raspberry Danish Twist

Oh man, I feel like I'm 12 again. Or 14. Or 8. Maybe even 20. Who knows when I first had Entenmann's Raspberry Danish Twist for the first time? But it was definitely in an even year of my life. Definitely. But oooh, that sticks with you. What DO they put in this junk food that makes it so addictive? Sugar? Is that it? Sugar? Genius, really. So simple. They should put sugars in everything. Simple, complex? Gimme a goddamn break, it's delicious.

Is this good for me? Clearly not. Do I care? I certainly should. If you follow twitter, you'll know that A) I'm concerned with my health. Hence the frequent "I'm watching something like Ghostbusters on Hulu while riding my rollers in my apartment and sweating my balls off" posts. The rollers. They're good things. It's like having a gym in your apartment. Like Nordicflex or the Crazy Fit Vibration Plate Fitness Machine. Holy. Crap. I think I'm gonna get myself one of those things. I thought they were outlawed in the 50's because they didn't do a goddamn thing. Like the way Halcion was outlawed in the 90's, except that Halcion certainly did stuff, and my Dad apparently has been hanging on to a couple pills somehow. (Abrupt discontinuation of Halcion can cause convulsions, cramps, tremor, vomiting, sweating, feeling ill, perceptual problems, and insomnia. "Disturbing thoughts" and something called "Traveler's Amnesia" are also warned about).

So yeah, pretty much not like Halcion at all. But I can see the Crazy Fit Full Body Vibrator sitting in a corner collecting dust and working as a thrilling sex toy, at least. Oh man...there are all sorts of worthless, yet accidental-sex-toy-gems on that overstock link!

Take the Giddyup Core Excersizer here. No explanation necessary.

Or this ball-chair thing. OK, I can't think of anything salubrious about it really, but it looks hilarious. Let's order 'em for the kids here at the superimportant offices so I can run around knocking them off their chairs so much easier! Wait, $110 a pop? F that. The kids are staying on the floor.

Anyway, I'm delighted and slightly mystified that my Google Image search for Entenmann's came up with this, eventually:
I definitely, definitely feel like I'm 12 again. Or at least 22.

listening to songs alphabetically is far superior

There are something like 5000 songs on my iPod. Maybe 5000 hours. I can't remember. Whichever is more. It's a lot of music. And it's all good. Probably better than yours. Anyway, the point is, I have a far more superior way of listening to my music than you do. Alphabetical order by song. That's right. It's clear you've never thought of this yourself. It's not entirely worth me explaining why it's totally so much better than your "shuffle" or "playlist", because by now you should know to trust superimportant news. Honestly...how would shuffle ever put "America" from West Side Story right before "America" by Weezer & Soul Coughing. Why do I have West Side Story on my iPod? That's seriously none of your business. Before "America" was "Ambush" by Sepultura. Come on! My music listening is far more rewarding than yours.

Starve a fever, feed a whole box of girl scout cookies to a cold

That's the way the old saying goes, right? If so, why do I still feel so goddamn shitty? I'm just trying to adhere to the only wisdom i know. It's a collective history that teaches us how to take care of ourselves, and I'm honoring that history by eating that entire box of Samoas. Why is my nose still running? I'm even more than half way through the box of Lemonades. Why are my sinuses freaking killing me? What does our American mythology have to say for itself when it's folklore - clearly more accurate than its science - still cannot help me cure my common cold. I am furious.

I love the consistency of my snot rockets

On days like today, when a light breeze can bring tears to your eyes, the chill climbs up your nose and does some kind of scientific stuff to make you create more boogers. Probably something to do with the body's self-defense system. Inexorably, this accumulation of boogers must be evacuated. Preferably not when I'm riding behind you. That's happened, and let me tell you, I didn't appreciate the consistency of that guy's snot rocket. Loose and unpredictable, like buckshot or a pack of Rutgers sorority girls. Today, however, at least in my case, the rockets were well formed and condensed. A precisely aimed nose bullet to the maw of the Williamsburg bridge. Satisfying.

Here's some crutches, feel better

Science & medicine have not progressed quite as far and quite as dramatically as I might have hoped. I was under the impression that X-rays didn't just show you spooky looking pictures of your bones, but went all *CLUNK* *CLUNK* *CLUNK* and microwaved your ankle sprain back to normal. Apparently, that's not the case. Apparently, the emergency room can't even really give me some high powered pain killers for that time yesterday that Ch0mb0, my teammate, tried to disable me. I can only hope that I took out a few spokes when I threw my mallet at his wheel.

But man, seriously. Where's that box that you stick your arm, or leg, or back into, and it fixes you? You know what? I'll even push back the plans for the slingshot so that Science can make this box. I mean, you've got microwaves that you can push "potato" or "pasta" on, and poof! you've got a plate of pasta. Where's the microwave that says "Irritable Bowel Syndrome" or "Hives"? The future is dissapointing. My cellphone didn't even work in the ER. I had all sorts of hilarious text messages to send out. Like "Thanks for the mallet, Jarrett. It's a good crutch". HAHAHAah HAh. Hah. h. ...

If the fixitall box really existed, I would've been able to avoid the inconvenience of fumbling through the Rite Aid for a box of Advil. Not surprisingly, walking in on crutches doesn't make anyone else in the store less retarded. I'm pretty sure "Excuse me" is well understood by just about anyone, even if English is not your first language. Not in Drug Stores.

I would've missed out on the next hilarious interchange at the coffee shop down the street though. The young barista couldn't help but ask me what happened, as he sees me hobble in with a weird looking mallet sticking out of my bag. "I was playing bike polo, and I had a little spill."

"What? Bike Polo?"

"Oh. Yeah, it's like polo on bikes. Can someone bring me this coffee?"

"Yeah, of course"

A few minutes later, I hear murmurs from the end of the bar.... "Bike Polo? Yeah, Bike Polo. I've never heard of that. Sounds dangerous. Murmur murmur murmur. Well there you go..."

If only I had a giant slingshot

Fuck matter transporters, fuck moving sidewalks and the monorail, fuck short range jets landing in central park. Matter transporters only turn you into flies, and the monorail has all these dudes dressed up in Mouse suits on it, posing for pictures with you & your kids. A few years ago, that line would've read "pictures with you and your mom" but superimportant is getting old, and has to face reality. And the reality is that short range jets won't work either. What we need is a giant slingshot, so we can just launch ourselves to Greenpoint after we're done having dinner in Hell's Kitchen.

This slingshot would either come with complimentary parachutes or complimentary fat suits to pad the landing. To be honest, we haven't really thought out the landing part yet. But how magical would it be to be suddenly flying through the air with your date, watching the sparkling city pass below you. These are precision slingshots, of course. There won't be collisions. It'd use Google maps. Those dudes can pretty much do everything. I mean for god's sake, look: It's the polo court Unbelievable, right? I'm sure google could figure out how to sling you anywhere from anywhere. It's simple math anyway. We figured this out in 11th grade calculus. Totally.