dynamic dynamite duo

In an unexplainably Looney Tunes-esque manner, you suddenly find yourself holding a lit stick of dynamite. You don't know how or why it is there, but it is, and from the looks of it you have about 50 seconds before you are blown to smithereens. You are currently feeling far from suicidal; you have a great life... your mom mailed you some of her splendid cabbage lasagna for lunch today, your significant other no longer clips his/her toenails onto your pillow, and you won 2 free tickets to see a DEVO cover band (SKEEVO, as they are known) this weekend. Yes, in fact, life is very good.

Of course, your initial reaction is to toss the dynamite far, far away. Unfortunately, your surroundings are not very conducive to dynamite-throwing. To your north, there is a playground full of bright and boisterous youngins' [ages 3-7] all of the very-very-adorable-and-worthwhile persuasion. To your south, there is a Cancer Survivors Convention for Teens. To your east is a dynamite factory and to your west is an apartment complex specifically targeted at cute old ladies, puppies, kittens, and rock stars. You would feel terrible tossing the dynamite in any of these directions, knowing good and well that it would destroy and kill 92.6% of everything in a 20 foot radius.

As the dynamite is burning down in your hands, you notice on the very far far edge of the playground is the house of Adolf Hitler who has been kept alive secretly for all of these years. You don't think that you can throw the dynamite that far, but you were on the javelin toss of your high school track and field team, so just mayyyybeeee.....

You considering leaving the stick of dynamite where it is and running, but rather unfortunately you are surrounded by a 30-foot-high fence made entirely of electric eels and you cannot climb it, not only for fear of electrocution but also because they are all very slippery.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

Keep in mind: if you throw towards Hitler's house, you will probably kill many'a'children and be considered the most evil human being on the planet. However, if you hit the house, you will be dubbed a hero and March 10th will officially be named in your honor.

The pea soup predicament

After many dismal years of the single life, you have finally scored a date with your semi-attractive coworker, Shelby. You don't want to fuck things up, so you make sure the date is well-planned and high class. You decide to take your date to the most chic new restaurant in town, La Femme Aerienne. Everything is going well: she laughs at your anecdote about Fluffy, she twirls her hair about her little finger like freshly boiled spaghetti, and she even answers the dumb and obvious question, "What do you do for a living?" in an only slightly condescending manner. The waiter takes your orders and within no time brings out the starters, setting in front of you a bowl of lobster ass chowder, and Shelby the split pea soup. Before delving into the hearty bowl of soup, she excuses herself to the restroom and leaves the table. Meanwhile, the aroma of the split pea soup is making its way towards your nostrils, penetrating your senses and sparking a long-forgotten grade school memory....

You are on the playground of your elementary school, sitting quietly alone with your trusty pocket knife and Dick Tracy thermos. As you begin to spoon the thick split pea soup into your mouth, a kickball covered in warm dog shit comes flying towards you, crashing into your agape mouth. The putrid taste of the shit pea soup combination causes you to vomit repeatedly on yourself, permanently earning you the nickname The Turd Nerd.

Snapping back in to the date, you begin to feel your stomach churning, and before you know it, you've projectile vomited straight across the table into Shelby's soup. You keep vomiting and vomiting and vomiting and vomiting, always straight into the soup dish. On the final upchuck session, you accidentally blow out the candle on the table right before Shelby takes her seat again. As you are fumbling with your matches to relight the candle, you glance up and see your date take a huge spoonful of the vomit-soup concoction. Upon seeing this, you vomit in your mouth, but you hold it in so as not to spoil the date. You are unable to speak due to the vomit in your mouth, but she does not seem to be protesting the god awful soupy throw-uppy mess; in fact, she says mmmmmmm every 3 seconds and demands that the waiter bring her another bowl. Upon receiving the fresh bowl of soup, she is outraged and disgusted by the blandness of this new soup! She declares on the spot:

"I don't know who made that last soup or how they did it, but I swear to God if I ever meet them I will fuck them like a cowboy fucks his horse on a lonesome solo ride!"

This is a tantalizing offer. WHAT DO YOU DO?


Remember: If you speak up, you must tell her how you made the soup because you must recreate it for her. Also, you will inevitably vomit all over the table. BUT if you don't speak up, you will be awkward and silent the entire date, probably ruining your chances of getting with this hottie-by-middle-age-man-standards.