And Now, An Appreciation Of The Bra

Time for your Thursday edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Find more of Drew's stuff at KSK or on Twitter. Today, we're covering strange children, poop, dissecting things, hugging, undergarments and more.

I went to the doctor the other day. I was sentenced to wait in one of the examination rooms for roughly 90 minutes while the doctor played CALL OF DUTY in the next room over under the guise of supposedly saving other people's lives, or some bullshit like that. Anyway, they had the reflex tester laying out on the exam room counter. I spent the next hour and a half kicking the shit out of my knees with that thing. Testing your reflexes never gets old, I tell you. LOOK AT THAT! IT MOVED ON ITS OWN! THAT'S SO COOL!

Your letters:

Tori:

At home after a long day, I started taking my "work clothes" off…

GO ON.

…to put on "bum around the house clothes".

Ah.

/pants back on

I got to the point where I unhooked and removed my bra, and realized this HAS to be the most freeing feeling for a female. There is nothing better than getting that damn uncomfortable-too-tight-underwire-poking-your-skin bra off after an entire day suffering from the self-inflicted torture of wearing an over the shoulder boulder holder. Especially if it's been a warm day and the room you are in is nice and cool. I don't mean to be crass or unladylike, but really, it's nice. I would like to know if there is a male equivalent.

There are plenty of male equivalents, but first let me sympathize with your plight. I'm told by the Mrs. that finding a comfortable bra sounds like an easy task, but is in fact the equivalent of trying to find a marble in the Pacific. And bras are EXPENSIVE. I had no idea. I figured they cost, like ten bucks MAX. No, no. They can cost shitloads more than that, which seems grossly unfair. Underwear is $10 or less a pair. Bras shouldn't be quintuple that price.

So finding and then wearing that goddamn thing all day has to suck. It's like wearing a belt around your chest. I can't imagine that being fun. I appreciate it when women wear uncomfortable things like bras so that their tits stay up so that we men can find them more attractive. WE TOTALLY GIVE YOU POINTS FOR THAT, LADIES. Same with heels. Giving yourself chronic foot and back pain just to display your sexy calves and elongate your legs? That's great hustle.

Anyway, there are many male equivalents to this since, as a man, I find virtually piece of clothing far too restrictive, regardless of size. Here some similar experiences.

UNDOING THE BELT. With the hand going down onto the ballsack and remaining there until the evening of TV watching is over.

TAKING OFF DRESS SOCKS. Dress socks are horrible. They're thin and get sweaty five seconds after you've put them on. So when I go to a wedding and have to wear them for an extended period of time, nothing feels better than getting back to the hotel room and peeling those fuckers off to let the dogs bark.

UNDOING A TIE, UNBUTTONING TOP SHIRT BUTTON. I can't get through any wedding without doing this a solid hour before I really ought to. FACT: Undoing your tie at a wedding increases your drunken swagger by at least 43%. If I was rich, I would get drunk every night and walk around wearing a tux with the tie undone. That's always a great drunken look. You feel like George Clooney after bedding six Monte Carlo cocktail waitresses.

REMOVAL OF SWAMPASS-CONTAMINATED UNDERWEAR. No one wants to keep ass-sweat soaked undies on any longer than they have to.

REMOVAL OF SHOES AFTER WORKING SHIFT AS A RESTAURANT WAITER. You spend that whole job on your feet. It's agony. Every time I took my shoes off after waiting tables, I expected my foot to look like Denzel's when they take his boot off in Glory. "Shoes, sir. The boy was just lookin' for some shoes."

Poppy Poppanapolous:

I've had a lot of experience dissecting cadavers (I'm a med student, not an axe murderer), and let me tell you, human meat looks and feels almost exactly like cow meat. I don't eat much meat, but I absolutely craved steak after a few hours in the lab. So my point is... given the chance, your doctor will probably eat you if he has to.

Oh, I have no doubt of that. I have a friend who went to med school, and I spent at least two hours asking him about the whole cadaver dissection thing. I'm repelled and fascinated by it. Do you have to take out their genitals and cut them up? Do they shave the genitals, or are there dead guy pubes hanging around? That would be terrifying. If I could pay $100 to dissect a medical cadaver (with proper instruction), I think I might do it. Not to become a doctor, mind you. Just for the sake of dissecting a dead body. You don't forget something like sawing open a dead guy's ribs and taking a look at his ticker.

When I was in school, we dissected a lot of shit in bio class. We started with earthworms (surprisingly interesting), then sheep eyeballs, then frogs, and then fetal pigs. The pigs had been injected with a fluid that clearly marked arteries in red and veins in blue. It was AWESOME. But that was where the progression ended. We had been working on larger and larger animals, but then stopped at the fetal pig. I always wanted to keep going. Take it to the next level. I would have liked to slowly worked my way up to dissecting an elephant. With maybe a horse and cat in between. Just go through the entire old lady who swallowed a fly's menu.

There were girls in my class who said ewwww or freaked out and refused to cut open the animals. I thought that was so shortsighted. You'll never get to chop open Kermit again in your life, Missy. SEIZE THE FUCKING SPLEEN, I say. Dissecting stuff was the tits. It was like a teacher asking you to hold a magnifying glass up to a dead mouse AND GIVING YOU CREDIT FOR IT. I'd dissect an animal again in a heartbeat. Call me, taxidermists of the world!

MHM:

Have you noticed how hard it is to find an "out-of-the-way" place in a grocery store?

Usually when I'm at the store with my wife, she will tell me to 'wait right there' while she gets something, which inevitably takes forever. There's no single place you can stand with your cart where you're not in the way of someone who needs to get by you, or is otherwise totally interested in whatever product you're now blocking their access to. I usually choose to stand by the most disgusting-looking canned vegetable — "who would want this?" — and that's when 38 people all decide that they need expired beets. Never fails.

Indeed. Every grocery store desperately needs a safe haven, particularly in the produce section. The produce section of every grocery store is fucking AGONY. You have old ladies pinching nectarines and kids running around and people trying to weight shit. It's not like the rest of the store, where you grab something and throw it in the cart. It involves bagging and all this other shit that takes time (NOTE: It takes me three minutes to pry open any complimentary plastic bag offered on a roll in the produce section. I always guess wrong on which end is the end that opens). And since the produce section is usually the first part of the store people walk into, it creates this massive bottleneck of incoming customers. Horrible. The produce should be placed in a pavilion ninety yards away from the rest of the store.

Rest areas are about the only advantage of fancy grocery stores like Whole Foods. Those stores always have a café where you can sit and gather your strength to go fight people for the last of the yellow bananas.

So yes, most regular grocery stores desperately need a series of alcoves and wide aisles where you can decamp to rest and munch on all the yogurt pretzels you swiped from the loose nut section. I'll also be in the store and need to leave my cart somewhere to rush and grab one little item down the aisle. So I'll try and find a good place to leave the cart for three seconds, and there's really no good place for it.

This sucks, because I know any time I'm in the store and I come across an unmanned cart blocking my way, I get fucking PISSED. I shove that thing out of the way as disgustedly as I can. Also, I've noticed that other people in the store will choose their little resting spot in a place where I desperately need to reach something. Hey, fuckface parked by the seltzer, move your cunty ass. I need that shit.

Alden:

I was recently traumatized: A decade-old pair of boxers just ripped while I was sitting in them on the couch- ripped from left inner thigh to the junk, completely spilling me out- and they had to be thrown out... This pair had traveled to several continents to over a dozen different countries - they were really comfy. What is the appropriate grieving process?

Appropriate?

I've ruined boxers by stepping in them wrong. I'd like to think other people have done this, yet I suspect I'm the only person on Earth dumb enough to go put on boxers, step on the taint bridge instead of through the leghole, and then put my whole fucking leg through the crotch, ruining the pair. I steadfastly refuse to sit down to put on my boxers. That's for dipshits. Instead, I have to stand and precariously balance on one leg to put that first foot through. Four times out of ten, this leads to an accident of some sort. But I'll be damned if I change my ways.

Jared:

Sadly el capitan was nowhere to be seen.

And Now, An Appreciation Of The Bra

Sad indeed. That's even better than a tattoo of yourself. I hope he has a boat painted similarly.

CurseofBobbyLane:

Why is it that children scare me more than anything on earth? One of the most uncomfortable feelings in the world for me is trying to respond to one of these little fuckers when they approach me in public and try to start a conversation. On one hand, I don't want to be a rude, cold-hearted prick to the kid, but on the other, I don't want to look like Herbert the Pervert in the act of luring the kid into the cellar for some popsicles. Of course, when said child approaches me, the parent is NEVER around.

What would be the best thing to do to avoid unwanted conversation with these beings?

I dunno. The worst are the kids who are 10 or so and are clearly freakshows. For example, I went to a playground the other day with my kid. There was only one other kid there. He was, like, 9 or something. He had a Super Soaker and he pointed it at me.

KID: I'm the playground patrol!

ME: That's great, kid.

KID: This is my playground, and I'm going to arrest you!

ME: (ignores kid, talks only to own offspring) Why don't you go play on the slide, dear?

KID: I'm the playground patrol!

This kid would not shut the fuck up for 30 minutes about his goddamn playground patrol. And he'd run to various stations around the playground and point his stupid fucking water gun at me and announce that we were trespassers or something. It was horrible. It was 90 times worse than being stuck at a cocktail party talking to a lawyer. All I wanted to do was see the kid go away or fall down and break his leg. I prayed for other kids to show up and dilute his presence, because the kid clearly ate paste and had no friends. And now every time we go to that same playground, he's always fucking THERE. He's ruined a whole public space just by being a socially awkward little shit.

My mistake was ever engaging him in the first place. People, when you encounter a strange child, you must treat them exactly as you would treat the homeless. Do not look at them. Pretend they do not exist. This may hurt the child's feelings and cause them massive insecurities, but it beats being bothered by their nonsensical, rambling bullshit. Plus, their parents clearly neglect them anyway. They're the ones doing the real damage. You're just an innocent bystander.

I do not like other people's children.

HALFTIME!

SportsCentre:

Is there a rule about arm placement in a hug? When you go for a hug, you have to decide if your arms will go above or below the other hugger's arms (basically one hugs around the shoulders, and the other hugs around the waist). When I hug a female, I usually try to go for the low arms, because, that's how it used to go when you'd slow dance in high school, right? Guy's arms below, girl's arms above. For attractive girls, this also gives the advantage of having your arms closer to her butt. When I go for a man-on-man hug, I try to do it equitably: one arm above, one arm below. So nobody feels like the woman. But sometimes your hug partner just screws everything up and flips your plans back in your face.

In a perfect world, I'd hug every gal below the arms. Not only does this allow good ass-to-hand proximity, but it also gives you a chance to feel around her ribs and press her bobbies up against you. However, I am a relatively tall person, which means I've spent my entire life trying to hug girls under the arms, bent down awkwardly, and then realized I can't hold the hug for more than three seconds due to searing back pain. You don't have to be a tall guy to experience this awkwardness. Many women are petite, and getting a solid around-the-boobs hug on them is a process fraught with landmines.

It's especially difficult during adolescence. When I was a horny teenager, hugs were about the closest thing I ever got to legitimate sexual contact. So I was the type to go for the hug and make sure my arms went around the waist. I'd also hold the hug for far longer than any girl would allow, resulting in the dreaded pull-away. BUT WHY CAN'T WE KEEP HUGGING? IT'S SO WARM AND SOFT IN HERE!

I don't know how you hug another man with one arm above and one arm below without poking your friend's eye out.

RP:

I just bought something that came in a cardboard box and was taped. Every time I open something like this, I immediately picture myself as a surgeon doing some life or death operation. I'm careful with my knife and slide it gently along the edge. And when I break open both sides of tape, I ever so gently open the flaps of the cardboard to expose the product (heart) inside. I remove it by scooping both hands underneath and then pull it from the cavity.

Then I throw the box on the floor and let my dog rip it apart. He didn't make it.

I strongly urge you to buy an Exacto knife and use it for just such instances. The Exacto knife really enhances the whole "I am holding a scalpel" feeling.

My wife found a set of steak knives on sale at Home Goods the other day. They were, like, $10 or something. So we busted them out and had some steak with them and cutting through steak with a new steak knife is downright erotic, it feels so good. Look at it slice effortlessly through that meat. I am dissecting a cooked cow! GOD DAMMIT I FEEL HUNGRY AND POWERFUL.

I don't know about you, but any box I open that's been taped is always taped in eight more places than is necessary. I'll cut open the two sides and think it's ready for opening, then I'll find it's taped along the ridges and shit. This never fails to enrage me. STUPID FUCKING BOX! I WILL CRUSH YOU! Then I'm too lazy to go back to the scissors to cut the tape and I try opening the box BY FORCE, which always fails and ends up with the tape stretching but never snapping completely. Only a few times do I actually get the tape to snap apart when pulling the box open. That's a great feeling. DREW STRONG.

EA:

At the gym, the woman working out next to me had 3 piercings on the top of her wrist and one on the back of her neck. Why on earth would anyone do such a thing? This seems more extreme to me than genitalia piercings.

Agree. I didn't even know those were viable piercing places. Usually, you place piercings at places that stick out along your body. Anatomical peninsulas, as it were: Ears, clits, noses, etc. I dislike the idea of piercing a flat surface. Just seems unnecessary. "Say, you know what would spice up this kneecap? A silver stud!"

You're not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but fuck that. People with odd piercings are always, without fail, neurotic attention whores who have at least one dead parent and a wicked case of manic depression. That's a FACT. Ditto white people with extensive tattoos. People like that got touched by an uncle.

John:

Did you know Frank's came in packet form? I wish I'd known earlier. Every food establishment on earth should have these bad boys available to their patrons.

And Now, An Appreciation Of The Bra

HOLY SHIT! And to think, restaurants happily supply packets of disgusting mayo instead.

Dan:

Have you heard about this kid? The short story: 9 year old kid sees a mural in his elementary school and is inspired. Tells his dad that night he wants to climb the 7 tallest mountains in the world. Dad says, "Okay Jordan, we'll make that happen." They started training the next day. He is 13 now and at Everest base camp right now, going for his 6th of the 7 mountains. He plans to climb the tallest mountain in each state next, and perhaps do some motivational speaking. He said he'd like to inspire other kids to live healthy, active lives and reach for their dreams. How enraged does this make you? I won't go so far as to say I hope he fails, but, well no, I'll go that far. I'm rooting for the mountain.

Agreed. The fact that his name is Jordan doesn't help. I don't trust any white kid with the name Jordan. And I hate children that overachieve. Who the fuck is this little shit to climb seven tall mountains? I bet he did it without supplemental oxygen too, JUST FOR SHOW. Little bastard. You know damn well he's doing it just to pad his Harvard application, and the admissions board will totally buy it. That kid can lose his toes to frostbite, for all I care. Thirteen year olds shouldn't be climbing mountains. They should be stealing porn and microwaving insects and smelling their own taint cheese. Anything else is creepy and unnatural. Kids who do more productive things than that aren't to be trusted. They have ulterior motives at hand. I'm not saying that kid is a Nazi. I'm just saying... he's probably a Nazi.

Again, I do not like other people's children.

Mickey:

Why do I feel the need to immediately wear to work my recently purchased clothes? And it's not just one article...every shirt I wear for the whole week has to be one I just went shopping for last weekend.

I'm not someone who cares about the way I look, and I don't work at a place where people try to impress each other w/ their sense of fashion, so why am I in such a rush to show my co-workers my new wrinkle resistant button-down shirt from Eddie Bauer?

Because it's new to you, and therefore a hundred times more exciting than your old clothes. Why wouldn't you want to wear new clothes right away? They give you that NEW YOU feeling for a solid five minutes. I know any time I buy a new shirt, I immediately think to myself THIS IS THE SHIRT. PEOPLE WILL SEE ME IN A WHOLE NEW LIGHT NOW. Producers will see me on the street and offer me movie roles on the spot. Women will gawk. The CVS cashier will give me free shit. All because I tossed on a new polo from Old Navy. The new clothes feeling is a nice one, even for men. Women may go to greater lengths to always duplicate it, but that doesn't mean we can't appreciate it too.

Brad:

I am from Chicago and live in Nashville now. Have you ever noticed the staring problem in the South? It's crazy, it's like people have nothing to do down here.

It's because they know you're a no-good dirty YANKEE. Time to wrap up this week with a GREAT MOMENT IN POOP HISTORY. Reader Bryan submits this story I call COUNTRY TIME POOPADE.

So my wife is kind of an organic food weirdo and always makes me eat and drink various weird food items that she says will help me lead a "natural" life. One day, she says, "I think we should do a lemonade cleanse". I thought, "I like lemonade, let's do this".

Well, come to find out, a lemonade cleanse is a ten-day fast where all you do is drink a mixture of lemon juice, maple syrup, water, and cayenne pepper. I promise it is just as disgusting as it sounds. The goal is to cleanse your body of all the nasty shit that houses itself inside of you after eating the common western diet of processed food. To aid in this evacuation process, you are supposed to do a salt-water flush every morning (or every other morning) of the ten-day cleanse. The salt-water cleanse goes like this:

1. Drink a cup of "Smooth Move" tea the night before (I prefer the chocolate flavor).

2. Wake up the next morning and drink 32 oz. of water with 2tsp of sea salt mixed in (totally awful in every way).

3. Wait

4. Shit

5. Profit?

Well, the first time I did this, I did not manage my time well. I woke up an hour early and drank the saltwater mix to allow myself time to "evacuate". After an hour nothing was happening so I said, "Screw it, I gotta go to work".

On my way to work I feel a nice healthy fart brewing and I raise up the right butt cheek to let forth the gas. What happened next was the scariest thing to happen to me while farting that I've ever experienced. Liquid shit shot forth out of my butt and filled my underwear while simultaneously dripping all down my legs. It was the warmest, slimiest, most disgusting thing I've ever felt. Moreover, the smell was that of a freshly soiled baby diaper mixed with burnt hair.

Luckily I was able to drive home and clean up. The first wave in the car was only the beginning. I began to shit with such ferocity that the sounds alone coming from the bathroom were nothing I'd ever heard before. Even crazier is after the fourth day of not eating solid foods, the salt-water cleanses produce the most otherworldly shit that comes out of your intestines. I'm talking alien-looking shit. Once you get all that stuff out, you then proceed to shit-piss which is kind of fun because your asshole feels like a vagina . . . always a fun feeling.

So yeah, never do a Master Cleanse.