Before we get to this week's bag of letters, a very quick Christmas story. My sister's husband was reading a Christmas book to his son a couple days before Christmas. The book was Patricia Scarry's Sweet Smell of Christmas (aside: Richard Scarry >>>>>>> Patricia Scarry). This is one of those old scratch and sniff books, where you turn the page and there's a new Christmas item to scratch and sniff. Smell the gingerbread boy! Do you smell Christmas coming? Smell the Christmas tree! Doesn't it smell like Christmas? Ooh, loogit! Mama Bear made hot chocolate! Can you smell Christmas coming now?
Well, my brother-in-law is reading this book to his kid, going through each of the scratch and sniff things: candy canes, oranges, etc. Halfway through reading the book, he drops ass. And my nephew sniffs the air, then turns to him and says, "Daddy, that doesn't smell like Christmas."
You got that right, kid. It sure doesn't.
Why does McDonalds Coke taste so damn good and completely different from other Coke? I never realized it tasted any different from other Coke until my wife got pregnant with our first kid 2 years ago, and she decided McDonalds Coke would be her only vice. At least twice a week I had to make a run for McDonalds Coke. Well she's pregnant again and again the midnight trips for Coke have started. I mean having an excuse to get a double cheeseburger at 2am when drinking wasn't involved is nice and all, but Jesus, what's in that shit?
There's an old urban legend that McDonald's exclusively licensed its own special formula for Coke that's a different formula from the Coke you get in cans and bottles. But that's apparently a myth. After all, McDonald's Coke is fucking awesome. But have you tried movie theater Coke? I could drink a lake of movie theater Coke. Most soda fountain Coke is pretty tasty, regardless of where you get it. The real leg up McDonald's has are the straws. Those things are wide as shit. It's like drinking through a silo. Like speedballing high fructose corn syrup. Also, all McDonald's food items contain roughly 56,000,000% of your recommended daily sodium intake. Coke tastes awesome right after you've eaten the equivalent of one acre of the Bonneville Salt Flats.
Of course, this begs the question: in what form does Coke taste best? Old timers will tell you it's the glass bottles. I'd say the ranking goes: McDonald's fountain, glass bottle, can, two-liter bottle (first pour only), and then the plastic bottles you buy at the rest stop vending machine. Those Cokes taste fucking terrible.
Then there's the whole issue of Coke in other countries, which is totally different and will fuck with any American palette, just as American Coke will fuck with your palette if you're not from here. I had a Mexican Coke once and it weirded me out. Same with British milk. British milk tastes wrong.
What is it about being in your office building late at night that makes your mind work like a late night Cinemax movie? My building is at like 5% capacity and many of the motion sensor lights have switched off long ago.
All I want to do is have unrealistically graceful sex with the moderately attractive girl in the cubicle across from me (without looking down and seeing actual penetration) and then Kung Fu fight ninjas who dive in through the windows by rappelling from the roof. Do other people have fantastical imaginations such as mine or have I just gone too long without the soft-core porn/action flick combo?
No, I concur wholeheartedly. It's one of those scenarios that porn movies ingrain in you, that you think SHOULD be part of regular life, but is decidedly not. Like when the maid comes to clean up your hotel room. When I was single and working in an office, my horniness rose exponentially each hour late I was forced to stay. If there is another woman in your office late at night, you WILL picture yourself banging that woman, regardless of attractiveness. Even if it's someone you really cannot stand. Even if it's some poor 60-year-old lady payroll. You can't help it. You're isolated in this little cubicle barn with one other person, and your brain automatically goes straight to picturing banging them in the copier room. No mental foreplay of any kind. You two just see each other and decide to have at it. Ditto with business trips. Hey, you and your female boss are staying in adjacent hotel rooms. HOW CONVENIENT.
Same with staying late in some sort of class. If you're in a classroom or a library at night, and there's barely anyone around, you WILL immediately have mindsex with anyone who walks by. Hey, who's she? I'd have sex with her RIGHT NOW. This instant. Right in the butt. No questions asked.
School is also great for the imagined "Die Hard" scenario. Because if you save the school from terrorists, you get free campus poon forever. When I was stuck at dipshit prep school and had to attend assembly, I continually imagined well-financed Persian terrorists popping down from the ceiling, Mission Impossible style. I vanquished them in so many different ways: with throwing stars, with clean wrestling takedowns, with a deft bon mot. I was a triple threat to any daydreamed intruder.
My husband and I are expecting our first child, which we found out last week is a boy. Now that we know the gender, our attention has focused on picking a name. My husband is a huge, die-hard Milwaukee Brewers fan. I screwed myself royally by casually mentioning one day that Brewer would be a decent boy's name possibility and now he has locked in on it to the exclusion of all else.
He has paired it with Wynn for the middle name to create Brewer Wynn (Win!) LastName, edited down from his original choice of course - Brewer Wynn Molitor Yount 1982 LastName. I have mixed feelings...I think this is heading down a dangerous Pilot Inspektor (Jason Lee) type road that will induce eye rolling from all. Also, the first thing he did with our first sonogram picture, is the attached. (above)
Even if you weren't naming him after a sports team, Brewer is a fucking stupid name. According to the Baby Name Wizard, it belongs squarely in the category of trendy, workman-style names that so many stupid white people are giving their children these days: Porter, Cooper, Ranger, Banker, Magic-User, Taxidermist, and so on. And why Brewer Wynn? The Brewers don't win. If anything, the child should be named Brewer Sheetdebed Jones, or something like that.
If your hubby likes the Brewers so much, and you don't want the kid to grow up getting pinned down in the schoolyard and drooled on, you should name the kid Paul. Or name him Prince and feed him nothing but scrapple and corn dog batter. Don't name him Brewer. He'll end up playing lacrosse and fisting passed out sorority girls. Just last week, I found out a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend named their son Hedges. Fucvking Hedges. And the kid doesn't even have a brother named Benson. It's an epidemic of dipshit white person baby names. Kwinsee Pittsnogle weeps for the future.
However, if you insist on having one of those "standout" names for your kid, you can surely do better than Brewer. Commenters, help poor Liz NAME THIS BREWER BABY.
Big Black Richard:
So is there anything worse than the way your body smells when you're sick? I've had a severe case of the flu for the past three days, but from the way I smell, I'm pretty sure that I'm already dead.
It's not just you. It's the fucking room. If you stay in the bedroom all day because you're sick as a dog, by the end of the day the room will smell like a Rwandan killing field. THAT DOESN'T SMELL LIKE CHRISTMAS.
My friend and I have been getting in a few heated debates recently over our pocket utilization for pants. I use the front right pocket for my cell phone, front left for keys and chap stick, and my back right for my money clip/wallet.
My friend uses the front right for his keys, and the front left for his cell phone. It seems as though we are bizarro creatures of each other. He is also short and chubby while I am pretty tall and skinny (lanky). It seems like we should be mortal enemies, yet we are close friends. How do you utilize your pants pockets? The commenters? By the way, I highly suggest all men over the age of 20 use a money clip instead of a wallet. I recently switched over from a wallet and I feel like a whole new, classier gentleman.
I put nothing in my back pockets because sitting down with a wallet or money clip holding up one of my asscheeks would fuck up my equilibrium. Also, my wallet in my back pocket puts me in constant fear of being pickpocketed, regardless of wherever I go. Ever get on a subway platform and think you're being pickpocketed, then you discreetly try and whip around to make sure no one is, then you feel like a paranoid asshole? I do this.
Anyway, my pocket situation is highly seasonal. Winter is a blessing because my jacket offers me a whole set of pockets to spread shit around in. If it's summer, and you don't want to be an asshole wearing cargo shorts, you have only four pockets to work with, which is awful. Anyway, I put my wallet in front right pocket, my phone and Chap Stick in front left pocket, and my keys in my jacket pocket. If it's summer, I put the keys in with the phone, which is all wrong and often results in a key puncturing my thigh. Still beats carrying a purse.
I save my back pockets for receipts, scribbled reminder notes, and any other slips of paper I inevitably forget to take out prior to any laundry cycle. My pocket situation is not optimal.
Just imagine how much rock this produces.
Four necks? That's four times the rock. Not bad, but Rick Nielsen and his gay hats say FUCK THAT. He's going five necks! Your Quad Chopper just got Gillette Fusioned.
Is piss the only fluid you deposit in a urinal/toilet, or do you also spit into that porcelain throne? I first spit — usually after hocking up some phlegm — and then relieve myself. Perhaps to mark my territory before marking my territory? I simply don't know; it's a habit. But, I've heard that not everyone does this.
I'll spit into my toilet at home, or a private stall. A public urinal? Not as much. Ever hock up some phlegm, spit it out, see what you've spit out, realize THAT was in your mouth, and then shudder in horror? I do that. I'm coming off a cold, so sometimes the shit I hock up in the morning makes me terrified of what's inside my own body.
I also spank into the toilet. Ever get that dollop of mabutter on the beach, and you can't piss it away? Then you have to grab some paper and wipe it off the beach so no one knows what you just did? Again, I do that.
I was talking with my friend about this the other night, but is the game of 500 (where one kid throws up a football and every other kid tries to catch it) prevalent across the country? I think it's common up and down the East Coast, not so sure about the Midwest or West Coast. If so, how did it become so popular?
I played it in Minneapolis as a kid, but I don't think it's anywhere near as prevalent as Smear the Queer is or was. I remember there'd always be one kid who always called out very small point values like 5 or 10, just so he could milk being the B for extra long. I fucking hated kids like that. It was always much more fun to yell out 500, huck the ball, and watch everyone kill each other to go get it.
We played 500 with a Hutch ball. There was one kid at our school in Minnesota who had Dan Marino's release. He could throw the fucking Hutch ball to Canada. If he threw a Hutch ball at you on a cold day, you didn't even bother catching it. You just ran the fuck away from it, lest it obliterate your hand.
I don't know how many readers have had jerk-off in a cup in a doctor's office for "fertility" or other issues, but it's not as fun as it sounds. My biggest complaint is that you have to do it DRY and into the same type of cup you pee in at the doctor's office. This creates a problem with gravity. You either have to push your dick downwards or be really quick to scoop everything up (spillage is very frowned upon).
Consider this a warning to Deadspin readership. Couldn't they at least give me a hot receptionist?
Well, wouldn't you just jerk with one hand then have the other hand free with the cup to catch what comes out? You could yell out 500 when you do it.
The dry thing is too bad. That means you have to go with spitting in your hand. And then you get that spit smell, and you just feel disgusted with yourself. Not enough to stop, but still.
You mentioned last week about people who give their kids whacked out names. I named my son Cash (after Johnny Cash) and my wife somehow agreed to it. But now as we talk about more kids, she has really shitty names for a daughter. Since she went with me on Cash (without a fight, mind you), am I locked into the bad name for a girl? If my sperm pulls the upset and we have another boy, I'm probably OK.
I think Brewer is a lovely name for a girl. I think you're probably locked into whatever she wants for the daughter. But never be shy about presenting your case to her about liking or disliking certain names. She'll listen, as long as you're respectful. If you just go, "That's a whore name," she'll punch you in the nuts. As a last resort, you can always say, "We can't. I had a girlfriend with that name. It would be too weird." No woman will ever name her daughter after a chick you've slept with. Ever. It's foolproof. As a precaution, I suggest sleeping with as many differently named women as possible.
Also, if your son's last name is Warren, I hope he dies falling in a well.
There was no bow on the car, probably because someone shoved it up his ass.
How has that car not been keyed 700 times?
I love the NFL net Sunday night show. However, the pregame show is the complete opposite. Marshall Faulk offers up incorrect information and smarmy opinions for 4 straight hours.
If you would have told me five years ago that in 2009 I would love Deion Sanders and hate Marshall Faulk, I might have punched you in the face.
I concur. That's the weird thing about that Eisen-Deion postgame show. It's a fluke. The rest of the network's pregame and postgame coverage is abysmal. But somehow, they got lucky with Eisen, Deion, and Irvin together. I keep waiting for them to fuck it up by adding Mike Martz into the show. It's gonna happen.
My lady friend likes to sleep on her left side and I like to sleep on my right side. When on our normal sides of the bed, it turns out this means that we often sleep back to back.
ASS TO ASS!
So a very minimal amount of spooning goes on, but what does happen is that we intertwine legs. I think she thinks that this is just us being cuddly, or some dumb shit like that. Actually what's going on is me practicing old-school WWF leg locks on her, such as the sharpshooter and the inverted figure four leg lock. I modify them some to deal with the sideways positions and to not wake her. I do this for two reasons:
1. I sleep about 4 hours a night so I get bored as hell when trying to fall asleep
2. I want to be prepared just in case she ever challenges me to a wrastlin' match.
I want to know if anyone else does this.
I don't do this, but that will soon be corrected. I loved that, if the guy stuck in the figure four was able to roll it over, it became HIS submission hold. Still my favorite wrestling move to perform in beds and on trampolines.
Your bit about sleep positions interests me for a couple reasons. One: Ever turn away from your lady in bed and have her take it as an insult? It's terrible. "Why are you facing away from me? Why the cold shoulder?" Lady, I'm just trying to get comfortable. Plus, my wife often complains about me breathing right in her face in the middle of the night. I can imagine that wouldn't be pleasant. You get a person doing that night breathing shit in your face, the real Darth Vader action, and it'll ruin you.
Two: My wife and I have a constant war over how sides of the bed are defined. I sleep on what I say is the LEFT side of the bed. That is to say, if you are lying down IN THE BED, I am on the left side of it. But my wife believes the left side of the bed is the side you see when you are facing the bed while standing AT THE FOOT of it, which makes no goddamn sense at all. So she claims she's always on the left side of the bed, but it's really the right. She is a fraud and a liar, and I will get her.
Also, I now sleep on the left side of the bed anywhere I go, for any reason. Even if I have the bed to myself. I am tamed, like a dog.
1.) What is your all-time favorite Skinemax show and why? (fuck the new shows, they suck)
2.) Who are the top three hottest actresses in Skinemax history?
3.) Is it wrong to prefer soft-core over hard-core?
I'm all about old-school Skinemax. Do you remember the glory days when Nikki Fritz rode dudes reverse cowgirl in every single episode of Nightcap? Or do you remember that one insane show about an online dating service where women literally jumped through the computer screen to suck dudes off? That shit was awesome! Those were the late-night shows I tugged it to all through high-school. I loved them in the way teenage boys love smoking weed, breaking things, and drinking booze about of Snapple bottles.
I am older now. I have a wife and a kid and yadda yadda yadda. But sometimes I find myself doing Google searches for "Tane McClure Thong Strip", "Kim Dawson Couch Tits" or something equally ridiculous. But it's all for nothing. I can't find these fucking clips anywhere. Part of me says, "Be a man and beat off to hardcore", but the truth is I want to see a slow striptease, followed by a chick on her knees in a thong mock-blowing a dude, and then a series of vignettes where the chick gets banged doggy and then rides the dude face to face before spinning around for the climactic reverse cowgirl session. And if that chick is Jeannie Millar, bonus points.
I'm more old school than that. As I mentioned on FKS, I watched shitloads of old 70's softcore porn on Showtime when I was a kid. They were all dubbed, poorly, and half of them had cameo appearances by Jack Palance. My favorite was Love Circles, reviewed here (NSFW). Since that was the first nudity of my life experience, it's far more indelible than today's porn offerings. But that doesn't mean it's better. In fact, it's all pretty damn ghetto. But the fairy Godpimp from the softcore "Cinderella" will always have my heart. I JUST GAVE YOU A SNAPPIN' POOSAY!
I recently started working afternoons and evenings, while my wife continues to work days, so we don't really see each other during the week. My wife is very sweet, and she often leaves me a note for when I get home late. Naturally, this note sometimes contains requests for me to do things during the next day (reasonable, because I'm home during the day.) She also signs it with a heart in that girly way that women do.
I came to an awful realization a few days ago...because of the thought she puts into leaving me a nice note and the way she signs it, I pretty much have to do whatever she writes. I mean, if she leaves me a note telling me that she loves me and she signs it the way she does and she tells me that I have to go murder four random strangers the next day, I have to go murder four random strangers the next day, don't I?
The worst part is that this doesn't work both ways, because, as a dude, I am physically unable to sign my notes that way.
Same here. My handwriting looks like I wrote it with the pen in my mouth while being raped in a jail cell. I too will perform any task if it is in note form.
When standing to pee, do you only unzip your fly, or undo it all?
I unzip. If you undo it all, don't you pants fall down? Mine do.
The real question is, if you're jerking in a tight spot like a bathroom stall, do you just unzip? Do you risk the sides of the zippers scratching your tree trunk? Or do you just unzip, let the your pants fall ,and go to town? It's so much more luxurious to do it that way, I think. So to recap: unzip for peeing, undo it all for jerking.
I commonly wear a pair of khakis 5 or 6 times without throwing them in the hamper as long as there are no obvious stains. Jeans can go even longer between washings. Yet I consider shirts dirty after one wearing. Am I alone in this? It really doesn't make sense considering pants are only separated from your ass crack by a thin layer of underwear and are subjected to piss dribbles 3 to 5 times a day.
I never wash any shirt or pants unless there's a visible stain. I'm repulsive. Especially dry cleaning. No way I'm taking a shirt to the dry cleaner if I've only worn it once. That's crazy. The thing needs to have fifty pounds of mustard and encrusted chocolate on it to earn a trip to Kao Lu. Also, I never wash jeans, because they're kinda tighter after they come out of the dryer, and that makes me feel like a fatass.
Can we all just agree that every guy who puts his hands on his hips while peeing at a urinal is a douche? And why do I only ever see this display of douchery in offices and work settings?
Yeah, I don't get that either. No one is impressed by your handsless display, buddy.
Do you ever stop halfway through your jaunt in the market and realize that the contents in your little basket make you look like a complete fucking Jenny Craig failure?
This happens to me almost every time I have to hunt for the food. My basket can very easily only contain boxed mac and cheese, sour cream, "Grand's" biscuits, gravy, bacon, shredded cheese, bagels, frozen "TGI Friday's" appetizers (x3), and multiple packages of bulk Reese's and Cadbury eggs.
I know this happens to you too.
See, I have the opposite problem. I always shop for the family, and that means I'm in charge of buying shit like fruit and whatever. I put my shit on the belt, and it's clear as day that I am not my own man. Meanwhile, some single guy behind me pulls up with a case of beers, a bag of Cheetos, and six packs of frozen burritos, and it's clear who will be walking out of that joint a free man.
Yes, but are you an eater of said boogers? C'mon, be honest.
I don't eat boogers. I'm more of a scab man.
Which fruit flavors do you think taste best in artificial form? We're talking ALL ACROSS THE BOARD here. Sure, orange, lime or grape taste great as popsicles or candy, but they suck in stuff like yogurt or iced cream. Raspberry and strawberry are great as iced cream, but they're gag-inducing (or just downright lame) in stuff like sodas. And screw all that "boisonberry" noise — we're talking the basic fruits here, no hybrids or fancy-schmancy kinds. (In other words, go with "cherry," not "black cherry.")
Purple and red.
If you really want to warp your head, ask yourself what voice a deaf person hears in their head when they think.
I asked this to the mother of the local deaf kid (deaf from birth) when I was younger. She replied that deaf people talk to themselves "in signs". I find that weird because I think they would have to shut their eyes to think. Or at least I would.
Dolphins. All they hear are dolphin noises. EKEE EKEE EKEE BRAAAAAA!!!!!!
So yesterday my wife meets some girlfriends after work while I have separate plans to go out a bit later. I've texted my plans to her but she says she didn't see it and gets home 20 minutes after I get to the bar.
At which time she sends me a text saying I could be home having sex with her. Well shit. I tell her I just got there and she says it's OK as long as I get home at a reasonable hour. I have 2 beers and leave the party behind. She's reading in bed when I get home so I hurry to take the dog out, brush my teeth and all that shit. Takes another 10 minutes before I can get there and start undressing at which point she says, "I think I've lost my momentum."
FUCK! There's definitely nothing I can do to turn the tide, and I decide against going and rubbing one out, which was a mistake. Instead, I stew about it with my pitiful buzz waning.
That's the number one problem with marriage: women are always at the most turned on at the least inconvenient time. While you're at work or watching a playoff game, she's hornier than a fucking wildcat. But on a Tuesday at 9PM? No, no. That's far too practical.
Ever since spell check has shown up everywhere, my spelling has gone to shit. Whenever I write paragraphs in pen, I can barely spell some words. Ever have this problem?
Yep. I reverse letters. I skip words entirely. I'll miss al etter and then go back and make a little carrot and add the missing letter above, so it looks like a third grader's failed English test. It's horrible, but the good part is that it gets me out of writing thank you notes. No one wants a thank you note that looks like a ransom notes, so that shit is left to my lovely Mrs. and her crazy calligraphy skillz.
In 2005 Alex Smith was working out for a few teams prior to the draft. One of the teams he was scheduled to work out for was the Lions. He thought it was a bit odd, because they just drafted Joey Harrington three years before and also because they only had the 10th pick, whereas the 49ers and the Bucs, the two teams who liked Smith a lot, were picking first and third, respectively.
He and his agent decided, what the hell, he'll make a good impression and go to Detroit for the workout. You never know what will happen so you might as well cover your bases, right?
He arrives at the airport and the Limo driver holding the "Alex Smith" sign has a weird look on his face. Alex notices it, but doesn't think much of it.
He arrives at the Lions facility and Matt Millen has an even weirder look on his face. Smith has a bad vibe. The two of them have an awkward conversation for half an hour, Millen thanks him for making the trip, and sends Alex back to the airport, no workout, no serious football questions, no nothing.
A few days later Smith and his agent figure out that Millen and the Lions wanted to work out the other Alex Smith, a tight end out of Stanford. Apparently they called the wrong agent.
That is awesome.
On the topic of douchy personalized plates I send you these 2 gems. The second one I found in the parking lot behind my apartment, which was shared with a nursing home on the North side of Chicago.
Yes, but does he love "Love Circles"?
What if mini Reese's cups and/or Starburst came unwrapped? Do you have any idea how sick I would make myself on either of them if that were the case?
Thankfully, those candies can't be sold unwrapped because they would be in danger of melting and sticking together if left on the shelf. It's what makes M&M's so much more dangerous. There's no barrier to the gorging.
But yeah, if they found a way to sell mini Reese's unwrapped, we'll all die.
I just wanted to touch on a little something that inevitably happens when I go to Giants games (aside from being drunk, pissing myself and alienating the other tailgaters). I will fucking high five every person within 20 yards from me. If you are a Giants fan and we have just ass fucked the opposing QB, get ready. If you are not a Giants fan and I notice you sulking after your RB breaks his leg, I will high five the Giants fan next to you and tell you to eat shit. It is my right as an American.
Here's the thing... you know when you go to church and have to do that awkward "peace be with you" crap? I hate that shit and church is lame. But if they did a high five instead I would go all the time because high fives are the tits.
Yeah, I went to church at Christmas and everyone did that "Peace be with you" stuff. It completely weirds me out, because I'm not really a church person. I always assume the ultra-churchy guy in the pew in front of me just had his finger up a twelve-year-old's twat. If you've ever gone to a Gymboree class (or an AA meeting), you've also been forced to participate in some involuntary hand-holding. It's horrible. You can't get your hands away from other people fast enough.
I saw Cannibal Corpse last weekend in Milwaukee and they were HORRIBLE. I can't explain how much they did not want to be there. Some guy spit on them and it was awesome. He threatened to kick the guy's ass, but somehow came across as a total ass, even though the spitter deserves to have his ass kicked. Hatebreed blew them off the stage. One positive, the lead singer's neck is gigantic from all the head banging.
And from drinking all the rectal slime! It's great for the muscle tissue.
How long do you hesitate before eating the chip with the unidentified black spot on it?
I don't. It goes right in the hole. I also look very carefully for those mistake nuggets, that are just lumps of the flavoring, with no chip attached. I'll eat those. It feels so wrong.
Concur on the banana bread. However, instead of putting butter on a slice, once it comes out of the oven and nice and warm, poke holes in the bread with a wooden spoon, then pour a mixture of melted butter and sugar over it so that it seeps in the holes. Let it soak until cool, turn it upside down to take out of the pan, slice, and enjoy. Absolute. Fucking. Heaven. This is one of the few things that my wife cooks that I look forward to. Only problem is she makes it as a gift for everyone else BUT me. What the hell? I paid for the ingredients but yet the kid's teachers, her co-workers, and the church bake sale get the buttery goodness. Wrong, just wrong.
Yeah, I hate that. Woman, make TWO! One for home, one for the bake sale dicks.
I must share with you the way to eat banana bread…put peanut butter on it.
It will give you a boner…and is good for your waistline.
Why not do both CT AND Chips' suggestions? We can always get fatter here, people.
When my brother was in jail, he contracted conjunctivitis, or "pink eye." Since nobody gives a fuck about you when you're in jail, he had to self-medicate. So, when pissing, he placed his index finger into the stream and then dripped a little into the infected eye(s). He claims it cleared right up.
I'll take his word for it. Prison is the mother of invention, I tell you.
How come whenever people eat Chinese food on TV or in a movie, they eat it straight out of the container? When I eat Chinese food, I need a proper and even mixture of meat/rice/MSG laden sauce, so I dump everything together on a plate and mix it together. The only thing that comes in an edible condition is fried rice, and if you just eat fried rice, you're a fatass.
What about lo mein? That's self-contained. Most Chinese place don't even give you paper cartons anymore. I'm seeing a lot more plastic tubs and foil tray with plastic lids. Is nothing sacred?
Regarding the Canadian toilet paper from last week's mailbag. Canadian Cottenelle recently changed its branding/name to simply, "Cashmere."
I think that's all you need to know.
You don't even flush it, I bet. You just hand wash it in Woolite.
As long as you are posting license plates on Deadspin, here's one I spotted in LA last week.
My buddy claims the car belongs to a lesbian couple who lives next door to him. Somehow that does not completely explain the plate, but you've got to love it.
And on a Nissan, no less. CLASSAY!
And now, a crucial piece of advice:
In your last mailbag "David" repeated a story about grossing his girlfriend out with a wad of bellybutton lint. During their exchange he argued that it couldn't be the grossest thing she has ever done because she has licked his asshole. When your girlfriend is willing to do freaky stuff in bed NEVER, EVER, make her think about it before or after the act in question. That's a guaranteed way to get her to stop doing that freaky shit. That's how women work. Somebody makes a comment about how they wear their fuckin' scarf (something they have never given a second thought to) and they spend hours in front of a mirror and reading Cosmo trying to figure out if they are doing something wrong and then chuck the fuckin' scarf in the garbage because they can't figure out how to make it look right. My advice - If she is licking your ass during sex, stock up on mouthwash and keep you trap shut about it!
Agreed. It's not every lady that will toss your Caesar. And finally, we end with poop.
I used to work in an office that had 1 toilet per gender, per floor. We occupied 3 floors in this building, with roughly 25-30 people per floor. So you're sharing a toilet with 12-15 guys. Naturally, since it's a one-toilet-bathroom, the door locks. Except the guy's bathroom on the floor below ours had a broken lock. So an old dude - 65 or so - would come up over the stairs twice a day to take a dump. He always had a newspaper under his arm. And man, did his shits stink. For a LONG time. You did NOT want to be the poor bastard who went in there after him.
Since I had a view of the bathroom, I started sending out an e-mail to all the guys on the floor when this guy went into the bathroom. It was a form e-mail that basically said, "You-know-who just went into the bathroom. Try avoiding it for at least an hour." This was a hugely popular and appreciated practice. When a new guy got hired, we'd let them experience it once and then clued them in and asked if they wanted to be included in the e-mail. They always did.
But my programmer friend one-upped me - he actually wrote a program that went on each guy's desktop that indicated a) whether this guy was in the bathroom or had been in it within 50 minutes (10 minute shit, 50 minute air-out period), or b) if some other guy wanted to alert the rest of the guys that he himself had just taken a nasty shit. This was fucking brilliant. It was just a series of 3 lights with buttons above them. So if you saw the old smelly dude go in, you'd press the red button. 10 minutes later the light would turn yellow. 50 minutes after the yellow button was pressed, it would turn green. I tried getting my friend to sell this piece of ingenuity, but he didn't want to fess up to inventing it. And he didn't think there would be much of a market for it.