OXFORD, OH—There’s a new criminal in town and he isn’t looking for gas stations to rob or people to mug, he’s looking for cats to smuggle. And he’s bringing a few friends along to help him in his illicit deed.
That’s right, Miami University student, Andy Martin, 21, smuggles cats. And he wants you to do it too.
Sources claim that Martin uploaded his public service announcement onto YouTube one early morning back in December and the views poured in immediately, reaching 5 views well before noon.
With total number of views reaching a whooping 11 by the end of the week, Martin knew this was going to be big.
“I just wanted to get cats off the streets. I didn’t have any idea my video would cause a nationwide phenomenon,” laughed Martin. “But I’m flattered so many people have joined the cause.”
And join they did. Martin’s PSA reached 22 views by March and by then there was nothing stopping it.
The video quickly reached 23 views and Martin’s term for capturing and illegally harboring stray animals, “smuggling,” was officially added to the Oxford Dictionary in early April.
And now, college students everywhere are “smuggling” cats, dogs, and animals of all sorts into apartments and dormitory’s that don’t allow pets.
Kassie Hollon, a proud Smuggler who’s been smuggling cats long before Martin’s PSA surprised the world, and who only just recently found an apartment with a housing contract that permitted her cute kitty, Lucile, happily talked to reporters about America’s biggest problem.
“There’s so many stray cats out there and every single one of them deserves a home,” explained Hollon. “And if every person just adopts one cat the problem’s solved.”
Being a heavy advocate of the cause, Hollon continued, “It doesn’t matter if a housing agreement says no to pets. Smuggling is exactly what Andy says it is: ‘worth the risk.’ A pet is a friend for life.”
Unfortunately for most of these kind-intentioned Smugglers, their lifelong friendship doesn’t last very long.
Reports of people harboring animals illegally have skyrocketed across the nation, and a large majority of the criminals are university-enrolled students.
“There’s nothing college kids love more than cats,” admitted Resident Advisor at Miami University, Matthew Cramer. But Cramer is quick to add that this doesn’t mean any resident should help in sheltering strays.
“Getting caught with an animal in your dorm would result in immediate disciplinary action,” said Cramer. “And it wouldn’t be hard to figure out is who is smuggling.”
According to Cramer, the chance of keeping anything on the “down low” in a resident hall is small. “The second everyone knows you have a pet, you won’t, because we’ll hear about it too.”
On top of disciplinary charges, some Smugglers are getting charged with heavy fines for breaking their housing contracts.
“The first time you’re caught it’s a $200 fine,” said Jordan Morrow, Community Assistant at Oxford’s Hawks Landing apartments. “After that it’s a $500 fine and then eviction from the apartment complex.”
With large punishments as consequence, Martin still urges the issue.
“How an owner takes care of his pet is his business and housing contracts shouldn’t be preventing anyone from experiencing what it’s like to love a living creature,” Martin adamantly preached. “Smugglers are doing good work all over the nation. We’re heroes.”
At press time, Martin’s PSA had amassed a total of 32 views and counting. Smugglers, smuggle on.
OXFORD, OH— Sources confirmed Wednesday that after weeks of build up, the dirty dishes inside Oxford Valley apartment 339 had reached a level of repulsion once thought to only exist in an OCD neat-freak’s worst nightmare.
Stacked well beyond the outlining of the sink, plates and pans with week-old, crusted on food protrude well onto the adjacent counter top. While fruit flies buzz around the kitchen enjoying the wafting scents of rotten egg and curdled milk that permeate the air.
Reportedly, apartment residents Thomas Mallory, Marie Smalls and Elise Smith assessed the situation later that afternoon while gathered around the last, overworked air freshener.
“I’m pretty sure I did the dishes a few months ago,” contested Smith through quick gasps of breath. “It’s definitely not my turn. Plus, remember that time I took out the trash?”
According to Mallory, Smith had taken the trash out one time, several months ago while she lived in the apartment alone earlier in the summer. Mallory made sure to add that this, however, does not make Smith exempt from doing her part in regards to other chores.
“And I’m not the one who threw that huge party last weekend,” continued Smith. “Most of those dishes are you and your friends, Tom.”
A perturbed Mallory responded to Smith’s accusation saying, “We had a party, not a pot-luck. That crusty, burnt chicken isn’t mine. And neither are any of those pans. I’ll clean the shot glasses, and a few cups but nothing else.”
Smalls, silent until now, quickly joined in on Mallory’s declaration. “The only dishes that are mine are those two plates,” she insisted. “But I didn’t get that nasty green stuff all over them. I shouldn’t have to clean that off.”
“Well I’m not doing it.” “Me neither,” chimed in Smith and Mallory respectively.
With the responsibility of doing the dishes still in the air, and unwarranted passive aggression free flowing between all the roommates like hot water, all three walked away from the situation, not one of them admitting to anything more than dirtying a few dishes here and there. According to sources, the majority of the dishes remained unclaimed.
According to Mallory, his fellow roommates haven’t been pulling their weight for quite some time now.
“They’re so lazy,” Mallory confessed. “I do everything around here. I clean the counters, take out the trash, I even buy the cleaning supplies when we run out. If they’re not going to clean their messes anymore I’m sure as hell not going to clean up mine. These dishes can rot through the floor boards for all I care.”
At press time, reports confirmed that the stalemate had yet to cease and the piles of dishes continue to grow now taking over a majority of the left half of the kitchen.
OXFORD, OH— Avian sources confirmed Tuesday afternoon, that local pigeon, Larry Swoop, 1½, deliberately chose to unload his bowels onto the fur overcoat of a snobby, 19-year-old socialite instead of the bald head of a boy suffering from cancer.
“I might be a filthy, disease ridden street-rat with wings, but I’m not a monster,” explained Swoop while picking lice-looking vermin from between his feathers during his late afternoon cleaning. “I have feelings just like any other bird. And I know not to fuck with cancer.”
Swoop had spent most of his late morning before the incident begging park-goers for stale breadcrumbs and dumpster diving for tid-bits of discarded food.
“It’s important to get a hearty meal in before taking your mid-afternoon dumps,” Swoop explained to reporters. “It allows for a cannonball-like splat effect, like a gunshot, instead of a drizzle-y disaster. It really gets the people going.”
According to another area pigeon, Swoop usually avoids craping on people who don’t deserve it.
“I like to sit and wait,” said Swoop. “The majority of my day is spent on top of rooftops waiting for that perfect specimen: the perfect shot, if you will.”
“It’s a mindgame really,” continued Swoop. “You don’t want to waste your waste, but you never know if another person worthy enough for your crap will come along later.”
Swoop defended his decision saying, “I’m not going to shit on a kid with cancer. I know some birds live for that opportunity, but I always say ‘don’t poop for laughs, poop for justice.’ It’s my job to make sure the people who deserve it get ass-chunked. I’m basically the Batman of pigeons. Oxford’s own heroic vigilante.”
Distinguishable from his flock by a slightly darker gray breast, Swoop patrols the sidewalks of Oxford looking for what he describes as “the one.”
“It’s always a person, usually female, who struts the sidewalk with a undeserving sense of entitlement. They usually dress well and have perfect hair and make the biggest stink when I unleash,” explained Swoop in between chuckles. “The students of Miami are my own personal feeding ground—make that pooping ground. Why would I poop on a kid with cancer when I could crap on a frat boy’s Patagonia fleece and hear him complain about how much his parents paid for it. It’s hilarious every time.”
At press time, the unsuspecting socialite whom Swoop had defaced was completely beside herself.
“This is totally the worst day of my life,” she announced to anyone willing to listen. “Why does shit like this always happen to me?”
OXFORD, OH—Scared for his life and terrified beyond belief, local infant Allen Beckett told reporters Wednesday that this vicious, demon-eyed monster, otherwise known as Sweetie, will scar him for life and haunt his nightmares well into his early teen years.
“As I try to fall asleep every night, this giant, four-legged creature just sits in my room and watches me,” the two month old said, pointing at the murderous fuzz-creature. “When I close my eyes at night I can see its green-glowing eyes searing through my eye lids into my soul.”
“To make things worse, my parents just clap and cheer when it comes near me,” Beckett explained with terror in his young voice.“I’m petrified as it sniffs me for weak spots and licks me all over with what I can only assume to be some sort of flesh dissolving enzyme. It especially enjoys my feet making it near impossible for me to run away.”
Beckett’s parents confirmed later that day that they love it when Sweetie interacts with cute little Allen. “Sweetie has so much affection for Allen,” explained mother, Patty Beckett. “She likes to follow Allen around just to make sure he’s safe. It’s adorable to watch.”
“Allen never seems to enjoy Sweetie’s company much though,” continued Mrs. Beckett. “He usually just freezes there and stares all bugged-eyed at her, but he’s going to come around soon, I’m sure.”
According to Backett, this bugged-eyed attempt at communication is his silent plea to his loved ones for comfort and solace from a hell that never ends.
Allegedly Beckett’s parents watch his grueling torture sessions with Sweetie gleefully. “I’m paralyzed with fear as this fuzzy behemoth berates me and all I can do is hope for it to be all over soon,” said a distressed Beckett while chocking back tears.
“Seriously, this kind of shit is going to fuck me up for years,” assured young Beckett. “I can’t crawl around my own house without fear of becoming some ferocious, baby-feasting beast’s early afternoon brunch. I’m going to need therapy for sure.”
Beckett continued, saying his parents should prepare themselves for years of bed wetting, night terrors, and family sleepovers when he’s too scared to sleep alone.
“I’m probably going to have some sort of post-traumatic stress syndrome because of this,” admitted Beckett, “and that’s not going to go away on it’s own. My parents better hire a damn good psychiatrist because I’m going to grow up with some serious issues.”
OXFORD, OH—Longtime acquaintances confirmed to reporters this week that local teenager, Chris Moore, an easily tempered and emotionally sensitive 16-year-old, has joined the Brown Road cat gang, otherwise known as the Hissing Whiskers.
Claiming that the hormonal delinquent used to be a fun-loving, outgoing young adult with several meaningful relationships with kids his age, a stunned and extremely distraught mother is unable to understand Moore’s motives.
“He’s recently become so withdrawn and stoic, even around the family,” explained Claire Moore. “It’s like he doesn’t care about anything. He just spends all his time with his new feline friends. And I’m at my wits end about what to do. He’s going to get himself killed in a gang like that! The Hissing Whiskers don’t mess around.”
Known for their mad aggression, and trailer park smarts village-wide; the Hissing Whiskers is one of Oxford’s most notorious cat packs.
Headquartered in the densely wooded area adjacent to the Oxford Post Office, the pack spends a majority of its time begging for scraps, avoiding animal control, and fighting the nearby opossum gang away from their strictly designated territory.
Sources at the post office have reported that Moore, who recently tattooed The Hissing Whiskers’ insignia of three black lines across each of his checks, had been seen loitering in the parking lot at night crouched on all four legs and covered in dirt.
According to Moore’s mother, the distressed teen has been returning home in the morning stinking of catnip and demanding heavy whipping cream instead of milk with his breakfast cereal.
“He’s out of control,” said an exacerbated and frizzled William Moore, younger Moore’s father. “At first we all thought he was doing the community a favor by playing with those wild creatures, you know, domesticating them a bit. It’s clear now that wasn’t the case.”
Speculations as to why a cat gang like The Hissing Whiskers would allow young and tenacious Moore a spot in their feline posse remains unknown, but Moore’s father has his suspicions.
“They’re using him. Plain and simple,” suggested Moore’s father. “The whole town knows that The Hissing Whiskers have been getting their asses handed to them by the recent wave of renegade raccoons. Those mangy pussies are taking advantage of my sweet son’s size and stature.”
“He’s their muscle and he’s going to end up getting hurt. Heaven forbid he gets himself rabies and dies.”
Moore acknowledged the risks as a newly selected member of the cat pack, and has reportedly been training in anticipation for weeks now.
“I’m ready for anything,” said a grungy looking Moore. “If I end up getting rabies, I’ll wear it like a battle scar. My brothers and sisters would do the same.”
With a recent surge in raccoon sightings in the area, Moore will play a significant role in any future gang fights that the Hissing Whiskers incite.
At press time, no other member of the Hissing Whiskers were available for comment. When approached by reporters a majority of the pack scampered back into their woody hovels, while a few remained only to hiss at any question asked.
OXFORD, OH— Pinned against the mat and struggling to find leverage on his formidable, 200 lb. teammate, local Miami University wrestler, Joe Brust, reportedly fought his darndest to not only win the wrestling match, but subdue his quickly stiffening boner as well. Brust’s attempts were futile in both regards.
“I’m no stranger to defeat,” admitted the lanky, 160 lb. Brust, “but this boner thing is really starting to bother me.”
Embarrassed and frustrated to once again be in this awkward situation, Brust was forced to reassure his fellow teammates of his unwavering heterosexuality.
“I’m so straight they actually use me in math to measure things,” exclaimed an exasperated Brust. “Guys, I love chicks. I have a girlfriend! Listen. Guys, it’s the adrenaline, that’s all…Look it’s already starting to go away.”
According to a fellow teammate, this is the fifth time this month that a match has been disrupted thanks to a surprise boner, and six if counting Cory Stevenson’s “halfie” during last weekends meet in Indianapolis.
“Sometimes boners happen,” an understanding Stevenson’s tried explaining to the rest of the team. “Don’t tell me none of you have gotten boners in the middle of mowing the lawn, or watching True Blood or something. Sometimes the little fella just needs to say hello.”
While most of Brust’s teammates look at the situation humorously, Brust is concerned that this occurrence will happen again.
Brust isn’t the only one apprehensive of this possibility. Coaching assistant, Trey Kramer, has also begun to take notice in Brust’s boner problem.
“No one knows why Brust is having these issues. But sexuality is never something the team discriminates against,” assured Kramer, “however, you can’t just be popping boners left and right. It’s unseemly. Brust needs to learn some self control. It distracts the crowd as well as the players.”
Allegedly, Brust has tried to prevent his serendipitous boner with thoughts of his deceased grandmother, Khloé Kardaskian’s face, and the idea behind waffle and chicken flavored potato chips. He’s even tried large amounts of duct tape, but nothing has worked thus far.
I love how confident these guys are with their sexuality! They’re more than just your average everyday boy band. They’re also the gayest.
And I love them for that! (Check out my previous post about my dearest love, Niall Horan)
Here’s their awesome, hilarious, and brilliantly directed new music video for the single, Best Song Ever.
And here are 7 Supercalifragilisticexpialidociously gay things about it:
1. Niall Horan himself…obviously. And also his love for tap dance (1:26).
Soooooooo sexy. Love me some Niall.
2. Zayn Malik is sexier in drag than he is in real life. And all the other boys take notice of his cutie patootie. (0:43)
3. Liam Payne’s portrayal of Leroy the Choreographer at 1:34. Enough Said. It’s as fantastically homo as a freshly pooped unicorn turd.
4. The way Harry Styles lusts after Zayn’s pretty-painted lips the whole video.
5. One of many passionate make-out sessions shared between Liam and Niall at 3:51. I feel luck to have the opportunity of sharing their moment and you can tell Niall enjoys it.
Niall clearly likes it rough.
6. Every single one of their adorable faces, with or without makeup.
7. And finally, their sick-ass dance moves at the end.
I love One Direction and all their gay goodness. Keep it up boys 😉
****All photos taken as screenshots from music video or from OneDirections website****
OXFORD—University of Miami police officers were displeased to find another poorly attempted act of vandalism on the side of a residential hall on campus early Monday morning.
A call was sent through to dispatch around 4 in the morning of a man wearing a Patagonia hoodie and Sperry’s walking around the building suspiciously.
According to Miami University officer, Stanley Bailey, the suspect was probably deciding the best place to put his eyesore of a masterpiece.
“This is the third time in two weeks that this has happened,” reported Bailey. “And the culprit is not getting any better. His graffiti is terrible.”
Though the motive is still unclear, sergeant Darfey suggested that it’s more than just petty vandalism.
“Whoever is doing this is doing it with little to no effort on purpose,” said Darfey. “We’re just sick of having to deal with vandalism of such poor quality.”
According to Darfey, vandalism on other campuses, such as Ohio State University or Dayton University, are much more highbrow and worthy of criminal charges.
“This is a joke,” exclaimed Darfey. “What is that even supposed to be? An eight ball? The moon? Whoever did this needs to take some art classes. That should be the punishment here.”
As the investigation continued throughout the morning, many other officers, as well as bypassing Miami students, looked onto the crime scene with confusion as to what the poorly scribbled doodle may mean.
“There’s no depth at all and the line perspective is all over the place,” critiqued Miami student, Sam Toodley after seeing the graffiti.
Speculation as to who has been defacing the walls of Miami resident halls continues but officer Bailey hopes the criminal is caught soon.
“We can’t allow such poorly skilled criminals to practice their artwork on our walls,” explained Bailey. “Miami has an image to uphold. This type of vandalism would be acceptable in Hamilton, but Miami deserves something better.”
My brother, John, visited me at Miami this weekend! And that means alcohol. And lots of it.
And today I learned that when I’m drunk I apparently like to think I’m a philosopher on life and such. And also, that my understanding of the world needs to be shared with everyone else because it’s “so deeeep, ya know?”
I woke up today at 10 in the morning with a killer headache and this alarm message:
(Note: My cute doggie-dog, Rexy, as my iPhone wallpaper. <3)
So I check my Notes App and under my Blog Idea thread was this:
I thought this was pretty funny. It doesn’t make any sense at all. Not to me at least…and I don’t remember writing any of it. I guess Blackout Me wanted to get something across, but I have no idea what it would be so “further analysis” stops here.
But I respect my drunk ass attempt to make sense of the universe, and even more so, the iPhone’s amazing autocorrect: correcting my drunken ideas since 2009.
Lets hope that one of these days a good one comes out of it…
pretty blog SWAG 
