Okay, what happened was this...

2008-03-14T09:36:00.000-07:00

I Love the 80s! (and I'm a dick)

So, when I saw the car crash caused by Hulk Hogan's uber-douche son, my first thought was "Oh my GOD! That's terrible!"

But then I calmed down - because I realized it wasn't an image from a Transformers sequel!" Whew! What a relief!

Ehhhh - same level of disaster, different budgets. Still, sorry for the mix-up, Bumblebee!

2007-10-04T22:42:00.001-07:00

Apparently Spy Is Not Litigious

I know a lot of you have been kept awake wondering, "Man, who does that douchebag Spencer Pratt from The Hills look like? I mean, besides A Human Scrotum."

Well, I'm happy to set your mind at ease:

The basement! You'll love it! It's like a cave with a pool table!

2007-08-06T12:37:00.000-07:00

Shhhh, It's Okay Baby -- Daddy's Here...

At my job, I get a stack of free comics every week. (All that's keeping this from being the complete dream job from my childhood is an accompanying delivery of Ring-Dings.) Regardless, a recent comic pile included a thick, black and white book collecting Batgirl's earliest adventures from the 1960s.

And that's cool - kids love Batman. Hell, I love Batman. And I'd imagine that for a young girl, seeing a female version of Batman has got to be pretty exciting and empowering!

Except for for the fact that THIS is the cover of the book:

Aren't you just dying to read her exciting adventures? Are you even still reading this or did you already leave to place your Amazon order (selecting the fasting shipping option, of course)! I mean, there must be some real gems in there if the freakin' COVER STORY involves Batman and Robin beating up a mountain of ruffians while Batgirl stays out of the way and "puts on her face"!

All that's missing is a thought balloon reading, "Oh, those silly men and their awful rough-housing! Someone better buy me something soon! Hrumph! "

I realize not everyone gets a giant stack of comics every week, so let me fill you in on some of my favorite stories from this volume:

-"Red Tide Strikes Again" -- A gang of bank robbers terrorizes the city, but Batgirl sits it out because she's "feeling crampy."

-"Pumps and Circumstance!" -- During an orphanage fire, Batgirl spends 48 pages trying on shoes.

-"Election Daze" -- Batgirl votes for the presidential candidate that Batman tells her to.

-"Crazy Loves Company" -- When the Mad Hatter escapes from Arkham Asylum, Batman is stumped, but Batgirl sees her chance to shine. She shares her plan to catch him with the caped crusader, "Who better to predict the next move of a mental patient than a crazy, illogical female!"

-"Tears of a Clown" -- Batgirl gets badly beaten while apprehending the Joker. However, she doesn't hand him over to the police, claiming it was her fault for getting him so mad.

-"What Cookin' With Batgirl?" -- Desperate to prove that a woman can fight crime just as well as a man, Batgirl wins the respect and support of Batman, Robin and the entire Gotham City Police Department by making them their favorite dinners. Then fellating them.

There's also a great cross-over where she defeats Catwoman by making snide comments about her outfit until she leaves in a huff.

2007-07-26T21:05:00.000-07:00

Little Mr. Hilarious!

I'm really excited that the Little Mr. and Little Miss books are making such a big retro comeback! See? That's Little Miss Sunshine on Britney Spears' shirt during one of her many cooter flashes a few months ago...

For those of you who aren't big readers, there were about 80,000 0f these characters, and each starred in a tiny square book telling the story of how they lived up to their names.

For example, there's Mr. Happy...

Who is happy.

And there's Little Miss Curious...

Who's curious.

And there's Mr. Chatterbox...

Who is a real chatterbox!

There's Mr. Noisy...

Who is flamboyantly gay.

(Shut up homosexuals! No one cares about your "rights"! )

And Mr. Fussy...

Who is Hitler.

(Oh Adolf! Always so fussy!)

And there's Mr. Clumsy...

Who is Hitler first thing in the morning.
(Love that bedhead, Mein Fuhrer!)

So I was really excited when I came up with my own addition to this legendary collective.

Her gimmick is that everywhere she goes, she pushes around a baby carriage! Kooky, right? And the funny part is, she doesn't even have a baby! What kind of nutty character does that? Here she is...

Not to give anything away, but there's a surprise twist at the end!

Special thanks to Little Miss Darcy for all the Photoshop help!

2007-07-26T11:13:00.000-07:00

A Croc of Shit

It took me a while to figure it out exactly what it is that annoys me about Crocs. Like Hummers, sewer rats, and Joel Madden, there's just something about them that makes me hate them on sight. But after some closer inspection, looking at their stupid colors, rounded edges and soft, flexible rubber, it finally hit me. They're like some kind of safety clogs that would be given to Dutch Special Ed. students.

Dutch Teacher: We'd, like your son Jörgen to try the Crocs for a bit.

Jörgen's Father: (turns to wife) Damnit! This is because of your half-witted brother's genes!

Jörgen's Möther: (weeps gently into a windmill-embroidered handkerchief)

Dutch Teacher: Now, now - it's very common. We just want Jörgen to prove that he won't give himself a splinter, or put out his eye with the toe tip. He could be wearing real clogs with the other children by the time he's in 5th grade! Provided he also stops setting fires and soiling himself.

Jörgen HAS to wear them - why are you?

2007-07-26T10:45:00.000-07:00

The Dogfighting Days of Summer!

I'm pretty fascinated with the trouble Michael Vick has gotten into for running dogfights. I just really admire the fact that, despite the trappings of fame and fortune, he's remained so down-to-earth and can still enjoy the simple pleasures -- like watching one dog tear another's throat out.

But come on, Michael! You're a multi-millionaire! Just because you're a cruel, blood-thirsty dirtbag, it doesn't mean you can't up your game and raise the stakes a little! The same way you now drink Cristal instead of Asti Spumante, you can also afford a better level of bloodsport! Get some peacocks to fight! Pit some homeless dudes against one another! Hell, with your money, go ahead and genetically-engineer some velociraptors! You can get a little fancy and still keep it real.

But Michael's not the only victim here -- if you think about it, the dogs are victims, too! (I know, it sounds weird, right? Dogs as victims? What's next, schnauzers as defense attorneys? Ha!)

The Washington Post had this to say about the sport:

Historically, dogs seized and found to have been part of a dogfighting operation are euthanized because their level of aggression makes them unfit pets and neighbors, according to John Goodwin, a spokesman for the Humane Society of the United States.

And I understand why dogfighting is wrong - it's cruel and barbaric and inhumane (you know it's inhumane because the HUMANE Society is against it!) And, of course you want to rescue the dogs from a potentially lethal situation like dogfighting. It just sucks that being "rescued" includes getting killed. It seems like the solution is worse than the problem, really. Because all you're doing is removing them from a potentially lethal situtation and putting them into a DEFINITELY lethal situation!

If you were a dog that was really good at dog fighting, you'd be SO pissed when the Humane Society showed up.

Why have we given up on these dogs? They could still learn to become gentle, productive members of the community! There needs to be some kind of activity to rehab and recondition these pups and steer them away from a life of violence.

I'm thinking midnight basketball

2007-07-03T18:19:00.001-07:00

Kelly Rowland Doesn't Understand Her Own Album Title

Destiny Child silver medalist Kelly Rowland was on Good Day New York talking about her new solo album "Ms. Kelly." And for whatever reason, everyone on the show was pronouncing it "Miss Kelly."

My first thought was that she's an idiot -- "Ms." is pronounced "Miz" and Miss is just...well... "Miss." But then I started worrying that maybe I was the idiot. Worse still, maybe I'd been wrong for years! I mean, the anchors were pronouncing it as "Miss," too!

Then it got worse, because if I was wrong, that would mean Kelly Rowland was right --indicating that, on some level, Kelly Rowland was smarter than me. And I didn't want to be dumber than someone who had agreed to be in Freddy Vs. Jason (Lochlyn Munro, I could live with -- but not Kelly Rowland.)

So, I nervously looked it up on dictionary.com and was more than a little relieved to see that I was right -- "Ms." is "Miz" and "Miss" has no abbreviations at all. My Kafkaesque nightmare was over (I'm not saying it would've been one of Kafka's best works...)

When I saw the interview on TV, I only caught the tail end of it, but I managed to find the whole thing online. And watching it, a few things are clear:

1) Rowland definitely thinks that "Ms." is an abbreviation for "Miss."

2) She's most likely unaware of the "Miz" title altogether

3) She decided to name her album that anyway, going on countless radio and TV shows repeatedly mispronouncing the title of her own album.

Despite her misconception, Rowland does have strong feelings about what the title "Miss" connotes: namely, "more...grown"

I strongly urge you to watch the first 30 seconds or so, because the female anchor clearly had the same problems I did:

http://www.myfoxny.com/myfox/pages/Home/Detail;jsessionid=FCF1A5361DE4B9726ADD27DFD8911A24?contentId=3666706&version=1&locale=EN-US&layoutCode=VSTY&pageId=1.1.1&sflg=1

I love how the female anchor starts off giving Rowland the benefit of the doubt in clearing up the confusion, but soon has to jump ship. And pay close attention as the male anchor smoothly urges his coanchor to shut up and just humor Rowland's complete ignorance of surname prefixes, before she makes Rowland cry or her head explode.

I had no idea that Good Day New York was such a subtlely brilliant emotional ballet!

P.S., Kelly Rowland is a skillionaire.

2007-06-25T15:16:00.000-07:00

My New Favorite Thing

I'm something of a student of human nature. By which I mean, of course, that I like to laugh at douchebags.

At a bar, I'm not much for pool or darts. Jukeboxes can be unpredictable and trivia machines are boring. But douchebags are endlessly entertaining - and free!

So I was delighted (DELIGHTED!) to discover the amazing arcade game Stacker! Stacker is noteworthy not only because it uses shiny, flashing lights and the promise of prizes to attract douchebags, but it also controls douchebags like marionettes, making them dance wildly for the amusement of all onlookers!

For those of you unfamiliar with Stacker (shame on you!), here's how the game works: as a single row of squares moves horizontally back and forth across the screen, you have to hit a button to stop it, so it lines up with the previous row of squares. It's kind of like "Press Your Luck" - but without a breakdancing Whammy to soften the blow of defeat.

It's a dollar per play - and it starts off easy, when you can win "minor prizes" like keychains and pens. But when you stack higher, you get into "major prizes" like PlayStation Portables and iPods.

I know what you're thinking - a dollar to win an iPod? This game has got to be super-fixed!

Oh, and it is! The fact that it's bacially a high-stakes, more crooked version of the "claw game" should be obvious to anyone...unless you're a douchebag!

So, for a wonderful, magical evening, I got to watch a group of 3 meatballs spend 50 bucks and almost a full hour figuring out what most children would've deduced in minutes. Here is their basic comprehension process:

Game 1: "An iPod? Yo, I'll take an iPod for a buck - lemme try this."
Games 2-15: "Damn, this is hard! Yo, I bet we can figure this shit out!" (much furrowing of brows, and rolling up of pinstriped sleeves)
Games 16-37: "Damn. This thing is tricky as hell - but we were close on a bunch of them! Yo, I can't BELIEVE you fucked me up on that one game! Let's get serious and beat this bitch!" (more yelling, feigning to punch the Stacker/each other)
Games 38-50: "Damnit! This fucker is SO rigged! Now we GOTTA beat it!"

I mentioned it was a dollar a play, but you could also get 7 games for $5. Although, they only seemed to be feeding in singles. They were intent on losing as much money as possible! No pussy-ass bargains for this think tank!

During the whole process, there was a slow erosion of confidence as it gradually dawned on them that, FUCK! maybe this machine IS fixed! Still, they played on -- I guess partially because even if winning an iPod costs them $375 in plays, that's still a good deal, right?

Eventually, they gave up in defeat, like modern day John Henrys. Except, John Henry couldn't keep up physically, while these guys got outsmarted by the SwindleBot 500.

Seeing their repeated, distraught reactions after getting sooooo close to winning, but coming up short - - it was like watching someone get furious at a slot machine, or a wishing well. Or a paper shredder that repeatedly devoured your twenties.

And the capper is that this all took place in The Crocodile Lounge -- a bar where you get a free personal pan pizza with every pint of beer you buy. Free pizza! It's one of Manhattan's rare and legitimately great bargains, yet these knuckle-fuckers STILL sought out a way to get ripped off.

And for that heroic determination, I -- and the makers of Stacker -- are endlessly grateful.

2007-06-22T09:01:00.000-07:00

Ya Ya? No No!

Be it Ya-Ya, Traveling Pants, or some as-yet-unnamed monstrosity, if a movie's got "Sisterhood" in the title, I steer clear. And that goes double if it's "Sistahood."

Actually, based on this picture, I may have rushed to judgment...

2007-02-26T17:25:00.000-08:00

5 Things I Saw at the New York Comic Con This Past Sunday

1. Gary Coleman

There was a table of three Star Wars actors selling autographs (Darth Maul, Chewbacca and lil' Boba Fett, of course) and at the end of that table, inexplicably, was Gary Coleman. I'm pretty positive he wasn't in the movies (although there were a lot of Ewoks, and who's to say who was under that fur). The point is, he made it a bizarre group - even for a place that's made up entirely of bizarre groups. I'd make a joke about him, but seriously, this is apparently the guy's livelihood, and that's sad enough. Besides, he probably wasn't there two minutes before someone asked him, "Whatchu talkin' 'bout, Wookie?" (And that someone was me!)

2. A Playboy Playmate

That's just sadistic! When you're at what is, essentially, a virgin convention, you don't force the socially awkward teens to interact with a professional sexpot! That's like making a diabetic eat a garbage bag full of cotton candy. Don't shock their systems like that. Start them off with Yvonne Craig and let them find their way from there... Baby steps!

3. Three guys, all dressed as Superman

Not particularly noteworthy, except for the fact that they were all huddled together, excitedly and awkwardly talking about a girl there who was dressed as Supergirl. Apparently, you can add "casual social interaction" to the list of the Man of Steel's weakness.

4. Black 20-somethings dressed up as Naruto characters

For those of you who don't know, Naruto is a Japanese cartoon about a ninja training school. And for those of you who do know - why? I guess if white kids can co-opt the gritty, urb

an black culture, black kids can co-opt the nerdy suburban white culture. MLK talked about it in his "I Have

an Extremely Nerdy Dream" speech.

And, of course...

5. Princess Amidala with a FUPA

Just use your imagination on that one. Better yet, don't.

2007-02-21T20:57:00.000-08:00

Finally, Something for Kelly Rowland to Enjoy!

Despite what my girlfriend will tell you (and she WILL tell you), I came up with a joke that I think is hilarious. Give it a try!

YOU: Knock, knock!

SOMEONE OTHER THAN YOU: Who's there?

YOU: Beyonce!

NOT-YOU PERSON: "Beyonce" who?

YOU: Beyonce who?!?! Are you serious? Beyonce Knowles, genius!!! Jesus, how many Beyonces do you know? Ever heard of Destiny's Child? How about Dreamgirls? Ringing any bells? Wow! Do you live under a rock or are you just retarded? She's on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue for chrissakes! She's impossible to avoid! Jesus, my grandmother knows who she is! Hello?!? (And so on!)

The trick is to spin it out into an epic, Aristocrats-esque freestyle performance. Try pulling in bystanders to join the mocking ("Hey, buddy! Can you believe this guy here doesn't know who Beyonce is?!?") Just keep it going for as long as you can. You can stop when you get tired of hearing your own voice (with my robust baritone, that's not a problem), the other person starts crying (dry-heaving is also acceptable) or both.

2007-02-02T19:52:00.000-08:00

Superman Vs. Specialman

Know what's pretty disturbing about Superman? The fact that one of his main villains is Bizarro - a character that's just a disheveled, moronic, "opposite" version of Superman. As if that weren't enough, he also speaks in a weird "opposite" style. For example, if Bizarro was going to punch Superman, he'd say "Me am not going to punch you, Superman." So, basically, Superman - America's hero - regularly beats the shit out of the retarded version of himself.

And, obviously, that's horribly, horribly wrong - but it's also hilarious. Because life doesn't work that way - your arch enemy never ends up being a mentally retarded person who looks kind of like you. If that ever changes, though, Eric Stoltz is going to be locked in constant battle with Chris Burke from Life Goes On.

2007-01-30T10:51:00.000-08:00

Some Settings To Avoid When Writing An Axe Body Spray Commercial

-A family reunion
-The free clinic
-Prison (the male kind)
-An old age home (any kind)
-A Convention for the National Association of Gay Steve Buscemi Impersonators

2007-01-29T20:59:00.000-08:00

You've Mislead Me, Rachel Ray!

Obviously, I'm big fan of Rachel Ray - as well as anything else that Oprah has expressed an even mild fondness for. And tonight, I made Ray's chili recipe from her "30-Minute Meals" book. But I found out that it winds up taking longer than half an hour for that particular dish if, while cooking, you forget that you've been handling jalapenos and then absent-mindedly rub your eyes. In the end, the whole half-hour timeframe is completely thrown off if you spend 15 minutes in the bathroom furiously splashing water in your face and saying "Ahhh! Fuck!" over and over again, while trying to push past the pain so you can open your eyes long enough to make sure they're not actually bleeding.

That one's more of a "45-Minute Meal...That Leaves You Feeling Like a Thwarted Mugger." But I guess her title sells more books

2007-01-08T21:24:00.000-08:00

I'm Not Above Stealing From Spy!

I've been following the Nicole Richie death watch pretty closely, and obviously she's gorgeous - that's a no-brainer. What's harder to figure out, though, is exactly what makes her so damned attractive.

Then it hit me - that stringy hair, that poor posture, that sickly figure, those noodle arms! Of course! She's a dead ringer for sexiness incarnate - young Richie Tenenbaum!

Lookin' good, Nicole - keep it up, you stone cold fox!

2007-01-03T15:20:00.000-08:00

Double-O Heaven

Another year has come and gone - which means that on New Year's Eve, there were lots and lots of people wearing those 2007-shaped novelty glasses.

Just a side note, but it's pretty ironic that with novelty items, the novelty wears off almost immediately - except for the ice cube with a fly in it - that's hilarious AND a thinker.

But somehow, these glasses beat the odds, too - they've been going strong for 7 years now! In fact, I took my 2006 pair to LensCrafters and got them fitted with prescription lenses.

Whoever thought them up is definitely raking in the money (probably with some kind of hilariously-designed, novelty rake). Yep, he's sitting pretty...for now. Because come 2011, he's out of double-O years and that glasses-making gravy train comes to a screaching hault!

As it is, he's probably working over time to revamp designs for 2010 ("Damnit, the eyes are just too far apart! Hmmm...maybe we can use the 1 as the nose bridge! To the molding plant!") But after that, he's screwed until 2020! What's he supposed to do? Trying to sell a line of glasses to companies with two consecutive Os in their name? (I'm looking at you Google! And you, too...uh...Cheez Doodles?)

That's no way to live! If he intends to keep living the high life in 2011, there's only one solution to his problem: novelty monocle.

2006-12-31T11:18:00.000-08:00

I Think About Deep Stuff Like Death

A small part of me was hoping that, due to some kind of zany shipping mishap, the bodies of James Brown and Gerald Ford would get mixed up during transport. Granted, it would've been more surreal than hilarious to see J.B. getting a state funeral, but the sight of Ford's corpse being displayed on stage at the Apollo would've been pretty damn delighful.

2006-12-17T20:20:00.000-08:00

It's Time for Change!

Maybe it's my natural love of shiny things (especially if they have pictures of presidents on them), but I'm always excited when I get to pay with exact change. It makes me feel like I'm doing the cashier a big favor.

For those of you who have never bought something (or, in shopkeepers' terms, "made a purchase") the way it normally works is, you give the cashier money, he gives you some money back, and then you go. But when paying with exact change, I remove an ENTIRE STEP from the process! That's the kind of innovation that made Henry Ford a millionaire!

"$4.78, eh? Hold on, friend! Your tiny cashier brain won't have to do any math on THIS transaction! Here's three quarters and two pennies! Now you can go home early!"

I like to think that when he arrives home and greets his wife with a barely repressed grin, she'll asks him why he's in such a good mood. At which point, he'll shake his head bemusedly and say, "Funniest thing - this guy today at the store gave me exact change. That's why I was able to make it to Joey's little league game!" And then, at dinner, they'll raise their glasses to "the exact change guy" and wish there were more "good eggs" like me out there.

The thing is, when I do pay with exact change, the cashier never appreciates the favor I'm doing him. And, in reality, why should he be? He's a cashier - he makes change all day and he's probably really good at it. I'm not saving him any time - I'm actually screwing up his flow by taking 30 seconds to fish in my pockets for an elusive penny (that may or may not even be there). Sure, sometimes I find a stray Life Saver while I'm looking - but the cashier's never excited about that, either. It's like they're made of stone.

And, worst of all, my "benevolent" gesture is actually done for selfish reasons. I don't pay with exact change in order to make some cashier's life easier. I do it because I want to get rid of the half-pound of coins I'm carrying around (which is a shame, really, since that's pretty much the only exercise I get).

In the end, it's no better than the blood drives I do solely for the stickers and sugar cookies, or the babies I sell on the black market in order to "give them a better home."

Nope, I've been kidding myself. I'm not some benevolent do-gooder. I'm not a time-saving genius. I'm no genius at all. Because no self-respecting "genius" would be using his exact change to buy a Dr. Pepper and the latest issue of "Black Tail." (Geniuses prefer Sierra Mist and "Ass Parade")

2006-11-02T10:24:00.000-08:00

Whore-oween
(My apologies if that sounds like an offensive Asian accent)

I like boobs as much as the next guy (well, unless the next guy is gay, I guess...), but there's still something pretty depressing about most women's Halloween costumes. It's like they just took anything a little girl would want to be when she grew up and made it slutty! Nurse? How about a nurse who loves giving blowjobs? Teacher? You got it - but she's teaching a class on gangbangs! (P.S. Class is in session!)

Worse still, they've even delved into the fictional characters that girls grew up loving. There are costumes for short-skirted, cleavage-sporting versions of Rainbow Brite, Strawberry Shortcake and Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, amongst many, many others. You've gotta wonder what goes through a woman's head where she's thinking, "Aw, I used to love She-Ra...Hey! I wonder what She-Ra would look like if she just couldn't get enough of the wang?"

The most impressive example I saw, though, was Sexy Raggedy Ann - a base character that is as close to asexual as a female can get. Those dolls don't even have fingers, let alone boobs. They must have had a team working overtime to sexualize that gal! But those countless man-hours paid off! It gives me hope that within my lifetime, I will see a girl dressed as "Sexy Grimace."

Regardless, why stop with childhood heroes? There are plenty of adult female role models that can be turned into fun, sexy Halloween costumes for the ladies! They've got 51 weeks to get cracking on these and cut me a check. Here's some I hope to see next year:

-Naughty Rosa Parks
-Slutty Marie Curie
-Cock-sucking Madeline Albright
-Nymphomaniacal Mother Teresa
-Jacqueline Kennedy-Onassis: Bukkake Queen (All you need is lingerie, a pillbox hat and a jar of mayonaisse)

Of course, if you need a last-minute, quick and easy costume, you can always go as "Sexy Ghost" - all you need is a sheet with a giant hole in it to show off your boobs.

2006-10-27T19:12:00.000-07:00

Jocks and Frocks

Know why it sucks to be Michael Jordan? Because he's the only person in the world who's not allowed to wear a Michael Jordan Jersey.

Think about it - if I wore his jersey to a barbeque or something, no one would even care. But if he showed up wearing it, everyone would think he's a colossal tool. Not that I ever would wear a Bulls jersey - I only wear gang-neutral colors. But the point is, it wouldn't be a big deal if I did. (I mean, it would be kind of a big deal - after all, I have beautiful, pale shoulders. They've been compared to carved ivory...but we're getting off topic here. )

The point is, he's a living legend, an icon of the game, but everyone would still say, "So, uh.. is it laundry day or something?" or "Yeah, man, we get it - you're Michael Jordan - give it a break, Your Airness!" or "Hey, you were supposed to bring the slaw!"

I should mention that in this particular fantasy, the barbeque is a potluck and Jordan had promised to bring coleslaw! (The poor guy just can't win today!)

And it's not just Jordan - this double standard applies to every professional athlete. If Eli Manning goes to the post office wearing his jersey, everyone would think he was a complete wank - it's like a surgeon running his Sunday errands in full scrubs. But we think nothing of a regular schmuck in a Manning jersey who's never played a single day of professional football in his life, but shelled out $50 so he could wear some other guy's clothes!

He's just playing dress-up! So how come society frown on him the way they do when I wear a suit of armor, my bandito outfit or my french maid uniform? (Actually, I'd be happy if all they did was frown - their taunts are both hurtful and surprisingly thorough.)

But maybe the problem is bigger than sports. There's a definite stigma against wearing shirts with your own name stitched on it. And I don't mean for work - there are plenty of people who do that (athletes, janitors, mechanics - as I call them, the embroidered class). But when not working, the only people who walk around with their names on their clothes are children and retarded adults (monograms are different - but they're certainly a sign of latent retardation).

We need to flip our perspective - start calling out the weirdos and start giving the professional athletes some much-deserved, clothing-based credit. After all, what good is making millions of dollars, entertaining countless fans and being able to sleep with any woman you want, if society won't let you wear your peronalized playclothes all the time? And, obviously, when I say that pro athletes can sleep with any woman they want, I'm excluding Randy Johnson. I'm sure even his wife is skittish.

2006-10-24T19:38:00.000-07:00

Exciting News!

I just found out that my piece "Less Money, Mo' Problems" won a "Bloggy" award for "Best Satirical, Comedic or Humorous Blog Entry"! I know it sounds lame - but I'm actually really excited! For those of you who don't know, The Bloggies are an extremely prestigious online award that I created about 10 minutes ago - so it's been a real whirlwind!

They're like the Daytime Emmys of blogging! Of course, "The Golden Entries" are still the Primetime Emmys of blogging and, in an odd twist, the "Blogcademy Awards" are actually our Tonys....I only wish I had thought of creating them all.

But a big thank you to everyone who's been reading and who helped me earn and invent this very special award. I think I can safely say, this is going to be a really great résumé padder!

2006-09-23T08:52:00.000-07:00

Less Money, Mo' Problems

The other night I was in the East Village (I realize not everyone is familiar with Manhattan - but if you've ever seen "Rent," the East Village is the place where they make fun of you for having seen "Rent") As is my custom, I had about $3 in my pocket and, naturally, my bank had no branches in the area (I've eschewed Chase or Citibank in favor of "Latvian Savings," a dependable-but-unpopular Eastern European lending institution). Because of this lack of planning, it meant that I would have to go to a bodega and use one of their Brand-X ATMs for cash.

In general, bodegas are not the type of place you want to be accessing savings or attempting to transfer personal information (it's why I no longer keep my diary hidden in one). But the closest bodega added to the already-admirable level of shadiness by having the ATM mounted directly into the front of the store, right on the sidewalk. No security doors needed! No surveillance cameras required! To reassure me further, someone had actually carved the message "Don't Use" into the screen (I'm not making this up) Furthermore, there was a chalk body outline right beneath where I stood (Ok, that part is false).

So, knowing what I know about the increasing inevitability of identity theft, and having read news stories of ATMs being tampered with and/or being mob-controlled (seriously), I paused for about 4 seconds before taking out 80 bucks.

And I realized that using the bodega ATM is the financial equivalent of having unprotected sex with a prostitute. You go into it knowing it's not a good idea, but, damnit, you have needs - so you do it as quickly and cleanly as you can and hope that you beat the odds.

In an ironic twist worthy of Alanis Morissette (since I'm pretty sure it's not actually ironic), if you pick a real winner of an ATM, you'll not only get ripped off, but also catch some of the very same diseases you'd get from having unprotected sex with a prostitute! (I guess it'd be ironic if you were taking out the money in order to pay a prostitute...I'll have to reread her lyrics.)

2006-09-18T10:15:00.000-07:00

It's Always the Year of the Rat!

Recently, a building across the street from our apartment was knocked down. And as a result, there's a herd of displaced rats constantly scurrying back and forth from their old demolished home to potential new homes on my side of the street. And, of course, it's pretty gross to see a pair of rats scampering on the sidewalk ahead of you - but I soon started to feel bad about my disgust. After all, if it were squirrels or chipmunks traipsing about, it'd be adorable! But rats get no love whatsoever - it's a despicable double-standard!

Sure, rats are dirty and eat garbage - but what animal doesn't? It's not like squirrels shower daily and shop at Whole Foods. (Actually, even in humans, those two traits don't coincide...ZING!) Besides, it's been centuries since a plague - just how long are we going to stay mad?

If we were completely honest with ourselves, we'd realize that there's one simple real reason we hate rats: the tail. Every "wild" animal that society tolerates has a cute tail. Squirrels? "Oh, big bushy tail! Give them some peanuts!" Chipmunks? "Awww, fuzzy little nubbin! Let's pet them!" Rats? "Ugh - rubbery, hairless whip. You distract it while I crush it with this cinder block!"

Still don't believe in the hypocrisy? Raccoons rifle through garbage, carry Rabies, keep nocturnal hours (like rapists), and are shifty-looking (what's with the mask, rapist?). But people love them! But give raccoons a giant rat tail and what have you got? A possum! (or "opossum," if you insist on being an asshole) And as we all know, a possum is just a rat that is big enough to maul you and eat your intestines while you're watching, still alive. (We all know this!)

It's clear that New York doesn't have a rat problem - it has a rat prejudice. Fortunately, we can solve this problem - and without any costly extermination or diversity training. All we need to do is eliminate those tails! Just cross-breed them with foxes or something equally bushy (This could really be Justin Guarini's chance to redeem himself!) Ten to fifteen years of that and we'll have a gaggle of adorable, cuddly "Roxes"(patent pending) running around the city! Instead of recoiling in disgust, tourists would be posing for pictures and letting them eat breadcrumbs out of their mouths! (The rat problem would be solved, but tourists would still be morons.)

2006-09-06T21:17:00.000-07:00

Not-So-Good-Natured Ribbon

I was driving along the other day and the car in front of me had one of those magnetic ribbons on its trunk. Except that this ribbon wasn't declaring support for our troops, or calling for autism awareness or finding a cure for breast cancer or whatever. This one had a more important message - and that message, offset by a trail of little pawprint graphics, was simpley, "I Love Shih Tzus!" And I realize there's probably no such thing as justifiable vehicular manslaughter - but that should definitely be grounds.

It's not that I expect any kind of brillance from the back of a car (although I do make sure to adjust my ideology depending on what Calvin is pissing on). As a rule, anything you put back there (bumper stickers, college decals, those license plate holders) all scream of insecure, self-centered nonsense. You not only need random passerbys to know what you're all about, but you can also sum it up that succinctly. Shih Tzus! That's me! Fishing! I like fishing! Who's with me?!? There are even those who would say that my vanity plate ("HORSECOK") falls into that domain.

But in that sea of obnoxious, pointless adornments, the magnetic ribbon had a kind of odd nobility to it. They called attention to an issue and just reminded you of its existence. If you wanted our troops to go home, you spent a buck and slapped it on your car. And maybe while someone was stuck behind you at a toll booth, they'd think about it too. And of course, those ribbons aren't going to change the world - but at least they had their heart in the right place.

Using a bumper sticker to trumpet your extremely brave pro-Shih Tzu stance would be insipid enough. But coopting the ribbon to deliver that message takes a special breed of moron. It's like using the obituaries section to list the Honda Civic you have for sale.

It got me so mad that I immediately covered my rear windshield with a decal of Calvin pissing on a frivolous magnetic ribbon. Then again, if it's open season on magnetic ribbons, maybe I'll just get one that says that says "I hate your ribbon!" and be done with it.

2006-08-16T20:31:00.000-07:00

An Earful on an Earful

Whenever I see someone with one of those Bluetooth cell phone ear pieces, they always remind me of animals that have been tagged and released back into the wild. Except that instead of coyotes or deer, it's douchebags.

What's so great about the Bluetooth is that it assigns an absolutely comical urgency and importance to phone calls. As if owning a cell phone in the first place didn't do that job thoroughly enough. But, apparently, having a tiny phone that's on you at all times still isn't accessible enough! The thought process is, "I am on the phone so often! I simply do not have the time in between calls to even put the phone down, nor do I have the energy to continually hold my tiny phone up. Know what? I'm gonna just go ahead and attach this directly to my face!"

It's like sitting in your office with your hand on the phone receiver all day long, just waiting in a state of cat-like readiness for it to ring. And not being ashamed of how sad that is.

And it's not like the people who buy them need to have their hands unfettered (here, I'm thinking of the "hands-free holy trinity": air traffic controllers, sculptors and pizza makers) . They're just regular dudes who don't want to use their hands.

I was in the Men's Warehouse (And, by the way, if ever there was a classy name for a clothing establishment, they've got it covered. They should partner up with Dress Barn for the ladies and just call it a day) and the salesguy was wearing a Bluetooth. And it used to be that if you literally had your hands full - say, selling a suit - you couldn't also answer the phone. And I say thank
God those days are behind us.

It's really reassuring that technology is constantly finding ways to overcome the physical limitations of rudeness. I hope the next development is a Bluetooth that not only helps you ignore and annoy people, but also sprays mud on passerbys or sends out second-hand brain cancer waves in a 50 foot radius (ideally, both)! Let's raise them stakes!

If I ever get a Bluetooth (and I assume such a decision would come after some kind of adult-onset retardation), I would always be twirling two yo-yos, or working a cat's cradle or something. Just to make it seem like this technology has freed me up to all kinds of new activities!

In the meanwhile, I'll be walking around with a letter opener duct-taped to my hand - to let the world know in no uncertain terms that I'm the type of guy who gets urgent mail and lots of it.

2006-08-11T10:38:00.000-07:00

I'm Smarter Than Martyrs

I've been thinking about the whole suicide bomber/Islamic paradise thing - and it's really weird that 72 virgins is their big reward for turning themselves into a Jackson Pollock.

I know virgins are pure and untouched and all that - but, by definition, they also know JACK about sex. And doesn't that defeat the whole purpose? What kind of sick joke is that? "Welcome to the eternal orgy! With all virgins!" It's like the twist ending of a Twilight Zone episode! Eternity? You're gonna need it, Casanova.

But it's actually a really telling contrast between our cultures - because the American guy's fantasy afterlife would be shockingly similar - it's just that the 72 women would all be sluts. Which makes infinitely more sense. If the whole goal of that deal is sex with lots of ladies, you want dirty, knowledgeable whores - not 72 women who are going to make you wait six months before they even let you feel them up. Thanks for the offer, Mohammed, but that sounds closer to hell.

So when I hear about a "martyred" bomber, it's comforting to know that even if he is somehow delivered to the promiseland, he still has a wicked case of blue balls.

2006-08-07T10:27:00.000-07:00

Shame on You, Nintendo!

For my last birthday, my girlfriend gave me a Nintendo DS. Which means that, for the first time in about 15 years, I'm ferociously cursing tiny cartoon Italians for not following my controls more accurately. I pretty much assumed that I had outgrown that kind of game-provoked fury. But I'm 27 now and I still want to throw the thing against the wall when a fireball kills Mario and I have to watch him make that infuriating "Oh, I burnt-a my ass-a" face while the patronizing "doot doot doo doot doo doot doot" ditty plays. By the way, when it comes to signaling pathetic failure, that song is this generation's equivalent of the "wah-waaaaah" trombone riff.

What has changed, though, is the way I view the characters. Mario is still Mario, of course - but the Italian-as-plumber stereotype makes less sense than ever. I'm sure they were DYING to make him a pizza man - but felt that they could only get away with the absurd ethnic behavior (It's-a me!") by giving him a less stereotypical and more affluent career to make up for it. Like if Luigi were a staggering Irish drunk, but instead of being a pub owner, he was an orthodontist.

The most terrifying change in perspective, however, how I now view the abduction of the Princess. When I was 12 and would watch the evil, dinosaur-ish Bowser run off with her, I'd think "Man, I've got to rescue her from that villain!" Where as now, when seeing this grotesque, vaguely-human monster kidnapping the screaming bombshell, the first thought that goes through my head is "Holy shit, he's totally going to rape her!"

It makes the whole game so much more stressful and traumatic. Worst of all are the bonus boards where Mario plays a slot machine or something in order to win extra lives. While he's happily playing these games of chance, I know the poor princess is using a candelabra to keep that turtle-shelled dino-beast at bay. The only time I ever feel any peace is in between boards when I see her being carried off by an escaping Bowser to the next level - and at least I can see that she's ok.

It's supposed to be a mindless diversion - but instead it's a white-knuckled, stomach-knotting nightmare. After an hour of gaming, I feel like I've done 40 hours of social work at a battered women's shelter. And worst of all, I'd love to play Dig Dug again - but in light of the recent cave-in deaths of all those miners, I know I'd be hysterically crying before I even got a chance to read the title screen.

2006-07-24T16:08:00.000-07:00

Some Things I Saw on the Street Today!

-A truck for "Yeast and All Baking Ingredients" - which alludes to an impressively thoroughly stock - almost cocky, really! I imagine the following exchange at their store:
CUSTOMER (probably wearing a chef's hat): Excuse me, but do you carry...
CLERK: Yep.
CUSTOMER: But you didn't even hear what...
CLERK: We've got ALL baking ingredients, guy. It's right on the sign, Dr. Hawking.
CUSTOMER: (Quietly takes out revolver and blows his own brains out)
END SCENE!

Of all the ingredients to spotlight, yeast isn't exactly the matinee idol that gets people excited about baking. It's not delicious, it smells terrible, and it's most commonly associated with a feminine hygiene problem.
That aside, though, written underneath"Yeast and All Baking Ingredients" on the back of this truck was the message "Just Say No To Drugs!" The paintjob was new and very professional, so it wasn't some handpainted afterthought, or some hold-over from the 80s. But it made about as much sense if the Poland Spring Truck had "Always Practice Safe Sex!" written in calligraphy underneath their logo. I guess they figured it was a message that needed to be spread - and that if the kids look up to and listen to ANYONE, it's the purveyors of baking supplies.

-A shirtless guy who was clearly proud of his body - which is no real rarity, except for the fact that he was pushing up 9th Ave. on a Razor Scooter. Kind of sad, really, because with the obvious gym time and the shirtlessness, he had expended a LOT of effort to send the message "I am sexy." And it was all immediately undone by his choice of transportation, which screamed "Do not have sex with me ever."
Basically, no one's going to be impressed with your amazing biceps if they're holding onto a pair of three-foot-high handlebars . He really should have just run up the street chanting "I have syphilis! I have syphilis!" - he would've gotten more exercise and it would have been less of a turn-off to women.

-A very casual businessman - soon after seeing the scooter enthusiast, I passed a guy wearing jeans and what can only be described as a tanktop polo (collar, three buttons, no sleeves whatsoever). And, of course, he had a briefcase. I have no idea what he was up to, but I like to think the briefcase was filled with cash, and he was negotiating for the safe return of his sleeves.

-A Learning Annex flier featuring Jessica Biel - which is the perfect opportunity for struggling actresses to ask Biel for tips on how to make it in movies. Well, let's see - you studied drama in school, you've got lots of theater experience, you're always working to hone your craft. You seem to be doing everything right.... Oh, wait! Are you really, really hot? No? Well there's your problem! Mmm hmmm - rookie mistake! That'll be twenty bucks!

-A gang of street urchins fighting a swarm of rats for the meat on the corpse of a hobo - oh, Mondays!

2006-07-15T13:10:00.000-07:00

I Will Be A Millionaire Restauranteur!

New York has a lot of really popular restaurants that sound like they were started by well-funded 8-year-olds. There's a mac & cheese restaurant, another one that only sells rice pudding, and there's even a peanut butter and jelly place. There were also TWO separate grilled cheese restaurants, until one closed (I guess the market couldn't support both - considering all you need to make your own is 78 cents worth of ingredients and an iron). But for the most part, these places are amazingly successful.

Which is why I've been racking my brain trying to come up with the next big fad. Maybe this city is begging for a place that only serves tap water (I'd call it "Waterworks"!) Or the next big thing could be "Puttin' on the Ritz!" - an exciting new dining experience that offers over 40 toppings to put on Ritz crackers! Huge! Or maybe a dorm-themed eatery that only features Ramen noodles! (I don't have a name for the place yet, but maybe I could go with a reggae angle instead and call it "Hope You Like Ramen, Too!")

Sure, they're all million dollar ideas, but wasn't it Donald Trump who said, "Million dollar ideas are for faggots"? (Answer: no)

And that's when my SKILLION-dollar idea hit me! An idea so trendy, so comfort food-centric, so nostalgic yet ironic (or "nostronic") that it's guaranteed to make me as rich as a castmember of "That 70s Show"!

Discriminating diners of New York City, I give you... "Lefty's: The Left-overs Restaurant"! Here's how it works: customers bring in their left-overs from home and, after paying a $10-per-person table fee, they heat them up in a personal, table-top microwave. Then they eat them. And afterwards, they wash their own plates and leave (tipping is optional, but sneeringly-encouraged).

If anyone is interested in investing, or just has an old microwave they want to get rid of, let me know. Get in now before the "Time Out" cover story has the line wrapping around the block! Remember, the sooner you start cooking, the sooner we can seat you!

2006-07-10T14:33:00.000-07:00

See? No! Evil!

If I was blind (and if adult onset diabetes doesn't do it, my love of bottle rockets surely will), I'd be bitter about losing my sight and having to learn Braille - and as a result, I'd also really resent anyone who still had their vision. But it would definitely ease my pain if all Braille reading material included hidden jokes about people who weren't blind. It'd be a nice, secret "Fuck you!" to the rest of the eye-using world. And how would they ever find out?
It'd soothe my tortured soul to open up my Braille edition of "Classical Pianist Monthly" (I just assume that after my blinding, I'd take up classical piano) and read a delicious bon mott like, "It takes two 'i's to make an 'idiot!' (you know - "i"s to "eyes" - it's more of a verbal gag, but you get the idea).
And for the same reason, I think people who aren't deaf should be taught the wrong meaning for some sign language. That way, deaf people can have the last laugh when non-deaf people say goodbye to them by unknowingly signing, "Have a nice testicle."

2006-07-10T10:32:00.000-07:00

Mix Tape Emotions

Over the weekend, my girlfriend and I were sitting around, picking a CD to listen to, and she suggested that we put on a mix I had made her. And it was extremely exciting, because that happens to be my favorite kind of music - the kind that I've selfishly preselected!
Making someone a mix tape is supposed to be really thoughtful and even romantic, but if you cut through all the crap, you're just saying, "I think your taste in music is pretty shitty...here, listen to these songs that I like!" Come to think of it, that was actually the mix's title.

2006-07-06T21:40:00.000-07:00

All the News That's Tits to Print!

I was riding home on the subway today, and the guy sitting across from me was reading some Asian language newspaper. I have no idea what it said (although today's Beetle Bailey was funny in ANY language!), but the title of the backpage must have roughly translated into "Sheer Blouse Round-up" - because the entire bottom half of the page was devoted to images of women in see-through shirts (with accompanying text - that I'm sure was extremely entertaining and painfully unnecessary).
The best part, though, was that it wasn't some sketchy guy reading a pervy paper - it was a normal looking Asian man, reading what's probably the equivalent of the NY Post. And I learned two things from this cultural study. One, our newspapers suck. And two, even though no one noticed or cared what this guy was reading, the second I started masturbating to it, all of a sudden, I'm on a train full of prudes.

2006-07-05T18:41:00.000-07:00

Items That Have Fallen Inbetween the Counter & the Stove
(presented in chronological order and with the accompanying concern they caused)
-A blob of butter: greasy, could cause fire, somewhat worried.
-An unopened 8x11 envelope (sent from my work, used in a failed attempt to retrieve the butter): envelope probably contained personal information, no threat of it leading to identity theft now: not worried.
-A good-sized hunk of brocolli stem: deemed "no big deal" by my girlfriend - she's a vegetarian and I trust her on these things, not worried.
-Roughly half of a "restaurant style" Tostito: I enjoy Tostitos a great deal, not worried, just sad.

Stay tuned for updates! Also, if anyone knows how to make one of those precision water cannons that they used to free Baby Jessica, please post instructions in the comment section.

2006-06-26T22:43:00.000-07:00

Some Junkies Have the Worst Luck!

There are a a lot of addictions. You've got the major ones: namely, drugs and alcohol. Then you've got the lesser ones: choco-holism, shop-oholism and a stronger than normal fondness for argyle. Robert Palmer famously sang of being "addicted to love" - an addiction that led to his untimely death in 2003 (although the press reported the cause to be a heart attack).
But of all the addictions, gambling has to be the shittiest and least gratifying. Think about it - if you're addicted to crack (and if you were honest with yourself, you'd realize that you are), it sucks - but you do what you need to do and you get some crack and you're set. (Most crackheads get money through one of the "3 Bs" - Breaking & Entering, Blowjobs, and Bake sales)
Bottom line, though their addiction gets fed....for, like, 8 minutes - but that's not the point.
With gambling, though, the pay-off isn't gambling, it's winning! So, unlike crack, where you KNOW you're going to get high after you smoke it (trust me!), when you start gambling, there's no guarantee you'll win. So for a gambling addict, not only aren't you getting your "fix," you're losing money the whole time! It's the double whammy!
At least with my addiction to Freecell, the only one losing money is my employer. And that kid I hustled and eventually strangled.

2006-06-23T10:45:00.000-07:00

It's a Hell of a Town!

As I was walking towards the subway turnstiles yesterday, I saw this black butterfly floating around, maybe 15 feet ahead of me. As I got closer, there was a guy walking towards me and the butterfly actually landed on his shoulder, right on the strap of his messenger bag. It lingered for a second or two before flying off again - and while the guy was completely oblivious to the whole thing, an MTA worker standing by him freaked a bit, because, I guess, it flew pretty close to him when it took of.
And I thought it was really beautiful and cool - because I couldn't remember if I'd ever even seen a butterfly in N.Y. before. And I felt that way for about a nanosecond, before I had my Crying Game moment of realizing that although I hadn't seen black butterflies in NY before, I HAD seen plenty of giant flying cockroaches. And I got the fuck out of there without even looking back to see if that massive roach was devouring that transit worker's face.
And I realize that the subway experience is basically a combination of the worst parts of urban living and the worst parts of nature. Where else can you can get attacked by a guy with a knife AND a cockroach the size of a bowtie.
On the plus side if that happened, The Post would have the delightful headline, "Mugged and Bugged!"

2006-06-22T10:17:00.000-07:00

Important Spam!

I got a spam today and the subject line was "We Cure Any Desease!" And what's great is that although they're clearly the finest minds in medicine and have achieved a truly miraculous feat, they're still just no damn good at spelling. This morning, when they had their huge breakthrough and finally found the cures for ALL of the world's diseases (I'm guessing lyme disease was that last hold-out), someone probably suggested they spell check their announcement before mass-mailing everyone on their email contact list. And the head scientist of this think tank slammed down his beaker, dramatically whipped off his glasses and said, "Damn it, there's no TIME! People are DYING!"
Oh, and be sure to check MySpace for the solution to that world hunger thing. Exciting times, people!

2006-06-20T14:50:00.000-07:00

I want to write TV theme songs!

I was thinking about the theme song for "Happy Days" and it's got to be one of the all-time stupidest. Think about it - "Sunday, Monday - Happy Days! Tuesday, Wednesday Happy Days! Thursday, Friday Happy Days!"
That's catchy and all, but all it's saying is, "These days of the week? They're Happy! The next days? Happy too!"
And it's even worse if the "Happy Days" in the song is just supposed to be referencing the title of the show. It's like a retarded kid who loved Happy Days rewrote the "One Two Buckle My Shoe" song. Just try plugging in the title of another show and you'll see just how dumb and generic it is. I like these ones:

Sunday, Monday _________

"Who's the Boss?"
"Facts of Life"

"Charles in Charge"

"L.A. Law"

"C.S.I."

"Primetime Live"
"Dr. Phil"

Grab a TV Guide and get crackin'!

2006-06-20T10:51:00.000-07:00

Can I die a young genius?

I turned 27 over the weekend - which means that if I want to be remembered as a gifted, tortured genius, I have to die in the next 12 months. Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Basquiat and Jim Morrison all died at 27 . Their work broke major ground - until they turned 27 - at which point their coffins broke major ground. The only problem is, I'm not a daredevil, I don't abuse liquor or drugs, I'm not having tons of dangerous sex (although my technique has been described as both clumsy and awkward). So my end will most likely be of the Mama Cass-choking-on-a-sandwich variety. So, start hoarding my work now - and try to contain your excitement when you see me going into Au Bon Pain.

2006-04-23T20:55:00.000-07:00

Crowd of Strangers = Romance!

I was waiting to get into a show at the Hayden Planetarium this weekend (that's right the Hayden Planetarium!) and while we were in the little pre-show holding area, the usher calls for everyone's attention and asks "Dawn" to step forward. Then this other guy joins Dawn at the front of the room and gives this speech:
"My girlfriend Dawn and I have been dating for a few years and she says I never do anything romantic...so I wanted to do this today. (pause) Will you marry me?"

I've never actually seen a public proposal before, and I kind of hope I never see one again. It's more awkward than uplifting. And it's creepy to be forced to witness what's normally a private moment. And, not to be mean, but this one just didn't deserve an audience. I still can't figure out what was supposed to be romantic about his proposal. Maybe they were both astronomers... or maybe he had a lifelong fear of public speaking and this was a monumental and touching breakthrough for him.

But most likely, though, he just did the math and saw that hiring a gospel choir or trained doves, or getting a gross of long stem roses is all, uh, expensive. And the cheapest shorthand for romance is just doing something in front of crowd of strangers. The underlying message of his speech wasn't "You think I'm unromantic, but check THIS out," so much as "You think I'm unromantic...uh, wanna marry me anyway?"

So yeah, no one really wants someone else's private moments forced down their throats - pointed out the guy writing a blog.

2006-04-23T12:12:00.000-07:00

America's Favorite New Game!
"Who said it - bank robber with hostages, retarded kid, or girl starring on an episode of My Super Sweet Sixteen?"

1. "I want a brand new car!"
2. "I'm done talking about this - just DO IT!"
3. "I want everything to be shiny!"
4. "Whatever I want, I get!"
5. "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!"
6. "I'm the princess!"
7. "No freshmen allowed!"

(Answer Key: 1. = robber & party girl, 2. = robber & party girl 3. = party girl & retarded kid, 4.= robber & party girl, 5. = retarded kid, 6. = retarded kid & party girl 7. = party girl (who may also be a retarded kid)

2006-04-21T06:42:00.000-07:00

I'm not allowed to dress like a pimp

I was walking to work today and there was this girl who was dressed kind of stylishly, but also pretty hooker-ish - like, a short dress and boots and a big, wide belt. Nothing crazy, but it was in that gray area of "maybe she interns at Cosmo...or maybe she blows guys at Port Authority." But I realized that there's definitely a fine line between "sexy" and "whorish." And that line consists of whether the girl will take money for sex.
P.S. she would not.

2006-04-20T20:01:00.000-07:00

I am a very savvy New Yorker !

On the street the other day, I saw these real touristy-tourists trying to hail a cab. There was a mom and a couple of teenage daughters. And the older daughter, who was probably 13 and who clearly had had enough of vacationing with her laaaaame family and, at the same time, was trying to prove that she was, you know, more "NY" than the people she was traveling with(she was probably wearing Uggs...I don't remember) -- steps out to hail a cab, complete with the textbook yell of "TAXI!" and the elevated, slightly-shaking index finger. And the taxi doesn't even slow down...because, naturally, it's already got a passenger in it.
And what's nuts is that I bet that family will go through the rest of their lives completely oblivious to the light system taxis use to let you know if it's available or not. They'll just think that taxi drivers really ARE crazy (just like in the movies!) and New Yorkers really are rude (again...just like the movies!), because nine out of the ten taxis they tried to hail just plain ignored them.
Man, tourists are fucking rubes! Hey - just like in the movies!