I hate stretching. I hate everything about it. Ninety percent of all stretching done in America today is done in a cursory fashion. You have to go lift or exercise, so you grab your foot and stretch your quad for three seconds, then you jump on the equipment. This is how I stretch, and it does nothing for me. I resent having to do any more stretching than that.
The problem is, you HAVE to stretch. I know this from having a bad back. Stretching loosens the muscles and prevents cramping and persistent nerve pain and all kinds of shit. And watching women stretch is the best thing a man can do with his day. Going to the stretching area of the gym means you get to see women bend over many, many times. And yet, I cannot bring myself to do it. I can't be bothered to do a relatively simple and not-that-taxing activity such as stretching. I just ran for 45 minutes. I don't want to have to do fuck all besides that. Stay an extra 15 minutes at the gym to stretch? FUCK AND NO. I'm not doing that. My workout is OVER. Ever stretch your hamstrings? It's agonizing. I hate it more than anything in the world, and I hate every goddamn thing. I'm supposed to stretch my hamstrings for 20 seconds at a time. I take three seconds to count to 20. Fuck doing that for 20 REAL seconds. Do you know how long that is when you're stretching? I've had to go to physical therapy before, and the therapists will always make you stretch well past the point of comfort. It's torturous.
I wish I liked stretching more than I do. I totally wish I could do the "Timecop" pose on a kitchen counter. A lot of pro athletes stretch for an hour or more every day. It's a huge part of their success. And yet, I loathe it. If I could pay $500 to never have to stretch ever again and suffer no ill effects from it, I would do it. Immediately. Fuck stretching in the fucktoid.
Now, your letters:
So I've been seeing a girl who works for HBO and she let me know that there's a lot of unsimulated sex in their original programming, especially Entourage. Apparently the entire cast of guys are total pricks and demand that the actresses actually have sex with them or they won't get the part. The crew is totally in on it because they're a bunch of scumbags as well along with Wahlberg who gets a huge kick out of being a casting pimp. So Grenier is sitting there banging this broad for the whole crew to see and if you don't agree to the sex they fire your ass for a chick who will. Is this awesome taking advantage of the opportunity to bang hot models/wannabe actresses or totally skeeving? I'm on the fence with this (but really leaning towards skeeved, because those guys are dicks).
No, it's fucking shady. Record industry shady. Ufford says this rumor has been floating around gossip columns for years. A friend of mine who also works at HBO said he'd never heard the rumor, though he himself does demand sex from anyone wishing to place AdSense ads on his Blogspot site. Anyway, I'm the sort of person who believes everything he reads, and so I totally believe this completely unsubstantiated and possibly bogus rumor. Fucking Turtle. What a shitbag.
I myself have never tried to pull any kind of power play for sex. You know, the classic porn scenario. "Well, to get this part, you're gonna have to go the extra mile." "Give me ONE good reason not to fire you right now." "I have to fail you, unless you were to take off that uniform right now, MISSY." All of those are way hot in porn. In real life? Horrible and disturbing.
In my opinion, one of the best things about hockey (after the fights) is the goalie mask. I find myself judging goaltender ability on how original/badass the mask is. This got me thinking, could other sports incorporate individualized helmets? Personally, I think football is out. Too much of a "team" sport with everybody wearing the same helmet. But in baseball, a maximum of four people are wearing helmets at the same time. I think it could work. Thoughts?
I concur. For reasons of branding and general tightassedness, you'll probably never see custom helmets in baseball or football. Which blows, because both sports could use them. I'd be cool with QBs, kickers, and punters all being allowed to paint vampire alligators and shit on their helmets. Those are protected positions in football, so giving them a special helmet design would actually help. It would be the equivalent of giving the QB a red jersey, which is what the NFL really wants to do anyway. If I were rushing the passer and I saw that the QB had a shark's mouth painted on top of his head, I'd have to stop and admire it before I went about the business of ruining his shit. And think of the potential extra merchandising revenue.
Baseball desperately needs customized batting helmets. Why the fuck not? They already slather those things with buckets of pine tar, tobacco juice, sunflower seed husks, and used Dominican TP anyway (yaki yaki!). They look like shit. Maybe if you let players paint a golden skull on their own helmet, they wouldn't be so quick to tar them with their own feces. And it's not like in football, where the helmet plays crucial role in identifying an opponent. Helmet or not, you know damn well who's playing for whom on the baseball field. The guy batting. The guy leading off from first and not wearing a fielding glove. Those guys are quite obviously NOT on the defense. I say, let those fuckers paint a big-titted chick on a Harley on their helmets if they please. And if you get a tard player like John Olerud who has to wear a hard fielding hat, I say let him paint that too. He's special like that.
At work, I derive way too much pleasure out of using one of those super high-powered staplers that are capable of stapling 100+ pages together in one shot (note: my company has not gone green). Every time I want to shout out, "Stupid report, you go squish now!"
A good stapler is to be treasured and adored. There's nothing worse than some limpdick Swingline that only gets one prong of the staple through the document. I'm a terribly overambitious stapler. If I have 500 pages that need to be bound together, I'll happily try and do it with some garden-variety piece of shit. Bad move.
It's deeply satisfying to get off a good, solid stapling job. Pushing down HARD, like you're forcing the thing to go down on you. Then hearing that clean CH-CHUNK. You know damn well when you hear that sound that you got off a pristine staple, both prongs penetrating the entire stack and turning cleanly in. I'll even admire my handiwork. Look at that. That shit is TOGETHER.
I've stapled shit where neither prong even gets through the paper. They just get mashed right into the top page. Paper ruined the staple's shit. Or one prong will go through and the other is all squiggled up on the first page. Then I have to remove the original staple (annoying) and then do it again. Only now, the document isn't nice and clean. It has those bite marks on it. Such a tragedy.
That's why it's key to have the kind of stapler that Kid Presentable is talking about. The kind that has a fucking LEVER, like you're opening up a dam when you push it. Those never fail. So fucking cool.
One last thing: There are people out there who will happily staple documents way to far into the document. I'm talking three inches from the corner. You know the kind. You turn the page and you can't read the top paragraph for shit because some asshole didn't take it into consideration when stapling. That's a massive breach of stapling protocol.
Am I the only one that, when walking into the kitchen, notices that whatever is cooking in the microwave is just seconds away from being done and all of a sudden pretends it's a bomb timer and I'm Jack Bauer, sprinting across the room to hit the "stop/clear" button before it hits zero?
We have thin walls in our place, so my wife believes (wrongly) that the microwave going off and beeping could potentially wake The Boy up if he's asleep. So any microwave timer must be preempted if possible. Thus, I find myself knocking chairs and people out of the way to leap towards the STOP/CLEAR button to ensure the machine doesn't beep three times and not wake up the child. If I manage to do this just as the final second is ticking off, that's a win. If I do it with, like, five seconds left, I'm a fucking failure.
Microwaves aside, there are any number of things I try to shut off before they annoy me. Like my alarm clock ("6:59? SMACK IT! SMACK THAT ASS!"). Or the answering machine. Yes, we have a landline and an answering machine. I'm aware I'm a fucking Quaker for this. Whatever. I cannot ever allow the phone to just ring while I'm in the house. Mrs. Drew is happy to let it ring and listen to the other person leave a message. I can't. I have to answer the phone before that fucking thing goes off, and I don't give a shit who or what is in my path to the phone. Babies, toys, whatever. I'm plowing over that shit to get to the phone. I hate screening calls. What if it's a radio station calling to tell me I just won a million bucks? I don't wanna miss that shit.
Most underrated daily pleasure? Walking and eating. I like to get a burrito and walk to class. I've timed it so I get to class just as my burrito is coming to an end. It takes the huge pain in the ass out of walking to class on a crowded campus. I'm just in my own burrito zone.
When I lived in New York, I used to walk to work and read the New York Post for the entire duration of the walk. I liked to see if I could avoid other pedestrians and read Page Six all at the same time. I can't imagine how much this annoyed other people walking on the sidewalk. They must have hated my guts, rightfully so. In fact, I know they did because one time, I was doing this and a black dude gave me a forearm shiver. Just a completely random assault. I yelped like a terrier. Then he just kept on walking. I didn't walk with the paper much after that.
I graduated college and had a real job for a year, but after realizing how much that sucks moved to Europe to play a sport professionally. I don't make much money doing it (actually less than my old job in the States), but I love it. The problem is that it's not a sustainable career, however. I'm 26, so at what point do I need to stop avoiding responsibilities and move back to the US and get started on a career? I love living like a child and having everything taken care of for me, but does there come a point when I become a loser/pussy for putting off the real world?
NEVER. Never ever ever ever. Do you realize how few people in the universe get to play sports for a living? In fucking Europe? Never give that up voluntarily. Only a shithead would do that. Don't worry, the real world will be here waiting for you when your knees break down. And what you do will always look cool on a resume. "Well Bill, I see you have no experience in accounting… HOLY FUCK YOU PLAYED WITH THE REAL VALENCIA PING PONG TEAM?!!?!?!?!!! You're hired. Come on, let's go grab a drink and you can tell me about some of the sweet Spanish tang you pulled." There's always a job waiting for former pro athletes. You need only turn on ESPN to know that. I'd give my nipples to have a minor league European athletic career.
Have you ever done any illegal dumping? I'm convinced there is no rush that matches the rush of the illegal dump. The anticipation builds as you look for a spot. Once you're out of the car you're fucking racing to get the shit out and get the hell out of there before you get caught. I love it and actively seek out dumping opportunities. And none of that dump the shit at the end of dead-end road, no it has to be somewhere semipublic.
After my growing days I dumped all my spent ganja plants at a local church parking lot during the middle of the day. I've dumped truck loads of lawn waste on the side of busy streets. I dumped a shitty Hammond organ in the heart of the ghetto on a Friday night. Now the ultimate illegal dump is obviously a dead body, but what's the second biggest dump a guy could pull? I say a car in a large body of water.
Did it take you until halfway through that email to realize he was talking about garbage and not poop? Me too. But both are germane to this discussion anyway (and poop IS garbage). The answer is YES, there's a huge thrill to be had with illegal dumping (of garbage), especially if what you need to dump is something completely repulsive, like a bag of hot beef grease. Our garbage pickup is once a week in my neighborhood. That means if it's August, and I just tossed a chicken carcass on a Saturday, that carcass is hanging around the can for another six fucking days. That's unacceptable.
Beaches are excellent for illegal dumping, because lifeguards and cops are too busy patrolling the beach to bother with the parking lot. And the parking lot is home to any number of wide-open oil drum trash cans. You can toss a dirty diaper bag in one from ten feet away, which is cool as shit. The biggest illegal dump I've ever pulled is a TV into the East River. Fairly modest. I agree with Brian that dead bodies and cars would have to be the top dogs of illegal dumps, just because dumping a car would be difficult (you have to remember to chisel off the VIN number). Mattresses and couches would be next on the list. Getting rid of large, cumbersome objects and knowing some other prick will have to deal with them and you never have to again is a really nice feeling.
I thought you would like to know about the best deodorant of all time. It is sea salt deodorant. It is by far the best thing to ever happen to me. I have been using the same stick for over a year now. I honestly think I can make it to 2015 before I ever need to buy another stick of deodorant. I found it while shopping with my ex at one of those hippie-organic stores. Six bucks and it lasts for years!
Sounds excellent. AND DELICIOUS.
Came across this at work.
Have we not evolved as a society to the point where they can make a can of shaving gel that stays clean after each use? It doesn't matter how many times I rinse or wipe off the dispenser on a can of Gillette Fusion, or whatever the brand happens to be. When I take the cap off the next morning to shave again, the inside of it looks like the aftermath of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man at the end of Ghostbusters.
I'm glad you brought this up, because we talk about shaving here a lot at the funbag, and reader responses convinced me to alter the way I shave. I bought a shaving mirror at Target, spent three hours figuring out how to make it stick to the tile, and then went about shaving in the shower without gel, just a little bit of shampoo or soap lather.
The result? Delightful. And no more shaving scum in the sink. I don't even have to fill my dad's rubber boots with coleslaw anymore!
To think, I've spent all these years buying Edge gel LIKE A SUCKER. Best of all, having a shower mirror means I get to spend even more time staring at myself in the mirror than I already do. Hey look! IT'S ME! LOOK AT MY NOSE! IT'S SO SQUISHY WHEN I PRESS IT! Man, do I like playing with my face. I could stare in the mirror for hours. I am vain.
What do you think is the maximum amount of time you can spend in the bathroom before people assume you are taking a dump?
Five minutes. Five minutes is enough time for a leisurely piss, a thorough hand washing and perhaps a sidebar conversation. Any longer than that and everyone knows the chocolate factory is open. Longer than fifteen minutes, and most people assume you're either masturbating or shooting heroin. I live in constant fear that, when I take a long dump, people are assuming that I'm masturbating in the bathroom. But I'm not! If I was jacking it in the can, I'd only need two minutes! I know from practice!
I've gone to jack it in the can, then gone back 20 minutes later to take a shit, then become paranoid that everyone now thinks I'm jacking it when I was really jacking BEFORE this trip, then I hurry the shit out and try and get the fuck out of there as past as possible. A man can really psych himself out if he tries hard enough.
Your finger is on a button that will destroy every fast food chain except one. Who do you keep and make king of this new world order? Please show all work.
So, in other words, you're asking me to name the most indispensable fast food restaurant, as opposed to the best. So I could either go for variety (Jack in the Box, McDonald's), or quality (Chick Fil-A). I don't really eat a shitload of fast food anymore, so variety isn't that big of a deal to me. And I hate every fast food kind of pizza. The question then becomes… which signature fast food item do I not want to live without?
• McDonald's fries
• KFC or Popeye's fried chicken
• Chick Fil-A sandwiches
• Subway's BMT sandwich
• Arby's roast beef sandwich
• Taco Bell's fire sauce
Fried chicken. I don't wanna live without fried chicken, because I can't make that shit at home. Not as good as KFC or Popeye's can make it. If I ate fast food all the time, I'd probably say McDonald's. But I don't want to live in a world where I can't get KFC once or twice a year. DON'T YOU TURN MY KFC INTO A POT STORE.
I have a partner who impregnated his wife 5 months ago. Well, last week I decided to start calling my partner "Pops". I saw him Wednesday (3/10) and he said she lost the baby. My question to you is, am I a jinx?
Yes. Way to kill a baby, babykiller.
Last night as I was being serviced by a girl in a bedroom at a house party (which doesn't happen for me very often/ever), she paused, looked up at me, and told me "Ok seriously, you have a beautiful cock." I'm telling everyone!
As well you should. But for real, what the hell makes a beautiful cock? Lack of curvature? Glassiness? No bulgy veins? A shiny head? A flower tattoo on the glans? I guess mine, which looks like a knob on a tree stump, does not qualify for such praise.
Do you think there's anything wrong with asking a Mormon to grab you a beer from the fridge at a party or a social occasion? After all, it's not like they're recovering alcoholics or anything, they've simply chosen not to drink.
I think you should ONLY ask Mormons to get you your beer. Make sure that hat-staring freak touches a cold can of Bud as often as humanly possible. Soon, the beer will seep into his soul and POISON him.
And finally, another GREAT MOMENT IN POOP HISTORY.
In high school, my best friend and I worked for a landscaping company that was owned by a guy that was a few years older than us. The parents of our boss owned a houseboat and we would often spend the weekends at the lake drinking beer, smoking pot, fishing, knee-boarding (this was before wakeboarding became popular), etc. After a morning of fishing, my buddy and I grabbed some noodle floats (you know, those ones that are loud as shit when you slap them on the surface of the water) and drifted out into the middle of the lake.
I am not sure why, but something about spending a weekend on the lake plugs me up to almost no end. After two days of not taking a dump, it hit me hard while we were lazily floating in the middle of the lake. A responsible adult would have clenched up and paddled the 200 yards back to the houseboat. But at this time, I was nowhere near being a responsible adult. So I dropped by swim trunks under the water and released the baby leg that has been brewing for the past few days, all without my friend knowing what was going on. I fully expected the turd to quickly sink to the bottom of the lake. Of course, that didn't happen. It pops to the surface and immediately floats towards my friend, who is facing away from me. As it neared the back of his head, I told him to turn around. He turns and BAM, turd to the face. This happened 15+ years ago and he is still pissed at me about it.
Oof. Just like Joey Pants eating the steel beam at the end of the The Fugitive. You're a cruel man, J.