Any tips on surviving a day of air travel - two flights and a layover - with a three-and-a-half-year-old and a two-month-old? Let's assume sedation isn't an option for the children (or adults) involved, and we'd ideally like to keep our marriage and custodial rights intact.
I assume the 2-month-old is a lap child, right? A kid under 2 can fly free with you so long as you keep them on your lap (and you have a copy of a valid birth certificate, and those fuckers at the counter won't hesitate to give you the shit eye when you've forgotten it). Keeping a lap baby with you for an entire flight is every bit as excruciating as you think it is. But buying an extra seat is an impossible luxury, so you just have to deal with it the best you can. The upside is that the baby almost always wants mommy on an airplane and not you (unless you're the mommy, in which case my condolences), which means you get to deal with the older child, who is easier and has his own seat.
As for older kids ... iPads and iPhones. That's a shitty piece of advice to throw out when not everyone has an iPad (I don't know how so many people have them when they cost so fucking much), but if you have a screen for the kids to stare at and you have snacks and you have a couple of books and you get up and walk the aisle a couple of times, you should be able to establish a kind of airplane training circuit for the kid: screen time, eating, reading, walking, screen time, eating, reading, walking, and repeat. This requires you to take enough kiddie supplies to fit inside a U.S. Army canvas deployment bag, and the one item that you need will ALWAYS be at the bottom of the fucking bag, leaving you hunched over in agony for hours at a time. But you have no choice.
All of this is substantially easier when you bring a car seat an board and strap the 2- or 3-year-old in it, but that requires bringing the car seat through customs (along with the Army bag), then getting it onto the plane and installing it while 200 people boarding behind you MURDER you with their eyes as you struggle with the seat belt. It's a pick-your-poison scenario, frankly. You're a dead man either way. Just keep lots of screens and unhealthy shit to eat close at hand.
Have penises become larger over the course of history? I am taking a Greek Mythology class and our professor shows us power points of arts of the Gods and other significant figures and all of them have very small dicks. I didn't think much of it at first, but then I recollected the statue of David, history's most iconic penis, and how undersized his is depicted as. Couldn't he have had the artist exaggerate? Or was penis size just not a concern? But it had to be, right? All these Greek Gods and Roman Emperors were sex-obsessed and fucked nearly everything that moved. Didn't they see bigger dicks as the enemy?? Dicks seem to be naturally bigger now. Or maybe we as a society just watch too much porn. If dicks have gotten larger, what, in the course of history, could have made them so?
Well, over the past century-plus, we have grown larger as a species. We are now taller and fatter than we were 140 years ago because we eat more and because we are less prone to contracting crippling hunchback diseases. I've been to museums and looked at suits of olde tymey plate mail armor and those suits always look like they were designed for the petite section at Ann Taylor. So, if we're bigger overall as a species, then it would stand to reason that our dicks are larger, no? And I bet bigger-donged men are getting more action and making more babies with their big dicks and birthing a larger segment of the dick-rocking population, right?
Perhaps not! Turns out that there have been numerous studies comparing body size to penis size, and, "They found that age and body characteristics were not associated with size of penis except for the 'index finger length' ..." Which means that Pedro Martinez must be hung like a fucking grandfather clock. Now, if we've grown overall as a species in the past 140 years, maybe it would stand to reason that our index fingers are a little bit bigger, which means our dicks are a little bit bigger. But you and I know full well that there are large men with small dicks and small men with large dicks. I looked when in the high school gym shower. I'm not made of stone! You can only keep curiosity at bay for so long, dammit! If our penises have grown over the course of history, it's probably not by a significant measure. You won't be able to comfort yourself at night knowing that you are more capable at deep dicking than your ancestors. Sorry, amigo.
I would like to get a proper measurement of my own apparatus one day. When I was a kid, I used to sneak downstairs in the middle of the night and try to measure my boner with a ruler, but the reading was never optimal. I used to really jam that thing down into the root, too, for maximum length. I need a professional length-assessment service that provides both customary and metric measurements for me to put on insurance forms. "Whoa, this guy is a full six and two-thirds! APPROVE THAT LOAN."
Justin Bieber's recent legal problems don't seem to have diminished the degree to which his biggest fans (Beliebers) adore him. What would he need to do to lose their affection? Murder? Rape? Chris Brown, arguably a peer of his, beat the crap out of his girlfriend, a pop star in her own right, and his biggest fans didn't miss a beat. I think Justin would have needed to crash his Lamborghini into a bus full of nuns before his Twitter tally dropped.
I don't think even that would turn off die-hard Beliebers. If you're that emotionally invested in an artist or a movie star or something like that, you'll concoct any reason to justify your habit. He's just a kid! He needs help! The media are out to get him! Those nuns were throwing themselves at him! WHORES. Stuff like that. I mean, it's not that different from my enjoyment of the NFL. Roger Goodell could stand on a podium this week and club a fetal pony to death and I'd still watch football.
The only thing that will diminish the whole Belieber frenzy is time. Kids are fucking insane about the things they like. I was no different. When I was a kid and Def Leppard got knocked off the top spot on Dial MTV, I would fucking FUME. And if anyone ripped on Metallica in front of me at school, I would get all huffy and be like, "You don't know shit about anything JAMES HETFIELD IS A GENIUS AND U ARE A LOOZER!" And if you were some girl who liked New Kids on the Block, as far as I was concerned, you were the ENEMY. I can't even imagine what an ass I would have made of myself on the Internet at that age. When you're young, you love the things you love a whole lot more irrationally than you do when you're older.
So it'll all fade away at some point. Bieber will keep getting into trouble and making records and the fanbase will move on to other shit, with a few stragglers left who grow up to be cat ladies. I worked with an old lady who kept a poster of Ricky Martin in her office. That's what a Bieber refugee will look like twenty years from now. The rest will grow up into perfectly normal, well-adjusted people. We all have our phases.
I've heard it's been about 10 years since "Nipplegate", aren't we due for a good Super Bowl halftime show controversy? And with the Bruno Mars/Red Hot Chili Peppers bill, isn't it probable there will be a "malfunction" with Flea's underwear/sock wardrobe? And will the weather play a significant role in this?
Well, there was that brief dustup when M.I.A. flipped the birdduring Madonna's set. M.I.A. was fined $1.5 million by the NFL for the incident. For the record, that fine appears to be larger than any fine that the NFL has ever handed down on a player or organization. Spygate, Bountygate, Ndamukong Suh going knee-hunting—all of that merited a lesser fine than a momentary bird flash that you probably would have glanced right over if you didn't have a DVR. Glad the NFL has its priorities in order.
That enormous fine was meant as a deterrent to any future Super Bowl performer hoping to get away with such ME FIRST behavior. I'm sure that Bruno Mars and the Chili Peppers (I liked the Chili Peppers in high school, but I really don't ever need to hear them do "Give It Away" with Mars) had to sign a stack of lengthy, unreadable contracts that stipulate an unreasonable punishment should either artist whip their dick out on stage: fines, jail, deportation, manual fingernail removal, etc. I bet Roger Goodell has spent more time trying to prevent televised penises that he has brain damage.
Why hasn't ESPN given up on espn.go.com?
It's because go.com still acts as the official domain for the Walt Disney Company corporate empire. You can go there and find links to all of the company's online holdings, including ESPN. And since typing ESPN.com takes you to the same site anyway, it's probably not that big of a deal, although I'm sure there's a "URL branding director" in Bristol whose only job is to make sure that the network's domain names contain the requisite amount of cross-promotion.
Back in 1998, we had a computer lab at school and I would hop in a few times a day (and often at night while drunk! Everyone loves the drunk guy in the computer lab!) to check out espn.sportszone.com (I found it using Infoseek!). It took fucking AGES to load but I had no fast Internet to compare it to back then, so I didn't give a shit. Just five minutes of a page slowly unveiling itself down the screen, like the world's dullest stripshow. I adored it. You can find the old archived ESPN SportsZone pages at the national Internet Archive. Here's one screen grab. Look at Mort's hair! So much more hair. This wasn't that long ago, and yet that page looks like it came from the Mesozoic Era. Shit ages ten times faster in digital form. I can't believe I tolerated such flat design!
Oh and here's a look at Deadspin's old layout. It's hard to look back fondly on shit like this without feeling like a loser. "Hey, remember that time I was surfing the Internet, alone? And not having sex with people? THEM'S WERE THE DAYS."
I go to a college with a prominent basketball team. I have a friend that goes to a D-III college but is a fan of my school's main rival. Every time we start shit talking about basketball, I will always bring up the fact that I actually attend the college that I root for, and he always responds by saying that he's been a lifelong fan and knows more about his team than I do about mine, which admittedly is very true. I still win, right?
You do. Going to the school is always the trump card, because I always assume that anyone who roots for a college team but didn't attend that school was too stupid to get in. And if you didn't want to attend that school or you went to a better school, then why the fuck do you like them so much?
This isn't really fair, given that all sports fandom is pointless and irrational. I haven't set foot in Minnesota for over twenty years but I'm still a Vikings fan. I'd never move back to Minnesota because it's cold as shit there and I don't really know anyone there anymore. I don't really walk the walk when it comes to total area loyalty. I just like my team and stuck with it. You could probably say the same about some dipshit Bama fan that ended up in trucking school. But this is sports. If you can find a reason to dump on some other group of fans, you do. And so that is why I say trucker school Bama fan is a bag of shit.
If sex and general affection didn't feel good, how would the dating process change?
It would cease existing. In general, sex is what gets men to leave the house. If you're 22 and going out for the night, you're going out for the night with the goal of getting laid. Whether it's a date or a party or even a trip to the grocery store, you leave the house thinking, "Hey, this might end up with my penis in someone!" That's the motivation. You know what a chore it is to get fucking pants on? If that potential endgame were to be taken away, you'd never fucking go out. Men want sex first. The whole friendship-and-camaraderie-and-general-enjoyment-of-a-woman's-company thing? That comes after we've gotten our fill.
We are such pathetic, disgusting animals sometimes. There are mornings I can barely look at myself in the mirror. It's just me sitting there and saying to myself, Welp I hope today isn't the day that my most obscene and disgusting impulses don't come flying out of me! Without that frantic, annoying desperation, sex would cease, men would put bros even MORE before hoes, and the human race would die out in short order. Probably for the best if that ever happens. I think people might still get married later in life though, just so they have someone to change the bedpan.
I find the imaginary post-game press conference meltdown rant an important, cathartic practice for myself. I hate to admit it, but I've been plagiarizing Dennis Green quite a bit.
I always try to keep a level head whenever I imaginarily address the media or my own players after a tough loss. I mean, I'm the guy in charge. In my brain, at least. Gotta keep my cool. In my mind, I'm the sort of head coach who gives the media honest quotes without being a showoff about it. Look, you guys. You saw what happened out there. Am I pleased? Of course not. But I am the HEAD COACH. And as the HEAD COACH, I have failed to prepare these players to succeed out there on the field. As men. I'm not gotta throw my guys under the bus! WE'RE GONNA FUCKING MAKE THIS WORK, BY GOD.
Since my team actually fired their coach last month, I have pictured myself as the owner of the team addressing the media after the firing ("Leslie is a good man and I'm sorry that we couldn't make this work."), but I've also TOTALLY envisioned myself as the new coach, introducing myself to the guys at minicamp ("Hi! I'm Drew-Mike Zimmergary.") and giving my first big all-hands speech to the guys. I have the speech all set to go if I'm ever plucked to lead a football team despite having absolutely no credentials of any kind. The door to my office is always open, gentlemen. My staff and I are here for one reason and one reason only: to help you win every game you play. That's it. You won't see any funny slogans around here. You find many rules except for 'Don't be a fucking asshole.' If you're a fucking asshole, we'll have words. Unless you're awesome, in which case I'll probably leave you alone (players all laugh). But I ain't here to lord over you. I am here to help prepare you, to guide you, to lead you if you want to be led. Because it's you boys who do the hard work: the lifting and hitting and running and kicking ass! That's you! And I'm gonna do all I can to get you out there and FUCKING KILL AND MAIM AND DESTORY AND BEAT EVERYONE TO DEATH NOW WHO'S WITH ME KILL ON THREE ONE TWO THREE KILLLLLL...
I would probably delegate game strategy after that. That stuff is boring.
Does Tom Brady use the same shitty tube sites that we use or does he have a paid subscription to a higher-end porn site? Maybe there is a special site reserved exclusively for celebrities that has much better content? Maybe the yearly price for Brazzers is well within his financial means and he uses that? Maybe I'm a dreamer, but I'd like to think Brady's frustratingly jerking it to YouJizz like the rest of us.
I'd like to think that once you reach a certain level of fame and fortune, someone discreetly mails you some kind of special Hustler Black card that gives you special access to diamond-level hookers online ready to obey your every typed command. That seems like something the Illuminati of the world would make a high priority. If that doesn't exist, then I bet plenty of celebs have entourage members who double as PORN STYLISTS. They surf all the dirty sites all day long for the bossman and pick the choicest new tidbits for him based on what they know he likes (big butts, etc). Then they hand him an untraceable iPad with all the good links ready to go. That's what I would have Fonsworth do for me.
Anyway, I bet you that Tom Brady sees himself as above fapping to standard porn in his room, alone. My bet is that if he videotapes himself WITH his old lady. Like, I bet they hire a professional stylist and director of lighting and everything and then get it on REAL good. Then he takes that DVD on road trips and uses it for his own ends. I bet that's what happens. He's a fucker.
What would the reaction be if a sitting president were to commit suicide? Would the US lose all stability and would Russia and China attack immediately? Or would the FBI/CIA can't cover it up and frame someone for it and the public would never know?You'd never know about it. The President would be dead from "sudden cardiac arrest" or some other pat cause of death. Because if America learned about the suicide, everyone would want to know why and no one would buy the first explanation. After all, your average President has too large of an ego to ever commit suicide. So it would have to be some pretty extreme shit to cause him to put a gun to his mouth: a secret love child with a blackmailing mistress, an illegal war, a sex tape with a dog, etc. You would never find out about it until the Vice President took over and you were already used to him being the guy in charge. THEN the sordid shit would start to trickle out and you'd be like, "Oh wow, that makes sense. Good thing we have ol' President Underwood in charge now OMG WHAT IF HE WAS IN ON IT?"
We wouldn't lose all stability just because the president offed himself. All of the entrenched, pointless government institutions that the president was never able to rid America of would still be around and would hum on as usual. The CIA black ops squad doesn't need a president around to tell them who to massacre and who not to massacre! DON'T BE SO NAIVE.
I turned 30 a couple of months ago, so I'm starting to think I should start behaving like an adult. Are there any ground rules for shirts you wear to the gym? My go-to is pretty much any too-embarrassing-to-wear-in-public-but-not-gross shirt, mostly leftovers from college that say things like "spring weekend 2004," "ACC/Big Ten Challenge 2005," or "Chipotle: Better Ingredients." Is it time to spring for some real gym clothes?
I still wear old t-shirts, including a free K-Swiss T-shirt I got once that says MADE IN CALIPORNIA across the front, which seems highly inappropriate. And if I have a favorite t-shirt that's fully pit-stained out, my old lady will toss those into the "Gym only" pile as well, despite my opposition. You and I should probably spring for actual, somewhat adult gym clothing, but holy shit, I don't think there's a single item in the Under Armour store that costs less than $50. No man alive wants to pay $50 for a piece of clothing that he will immediately defile with his fromunda cheese. This is why you go to a gym and see fifty men in old KAPPA SIG OLYMPICS: IF YOU AIN'T 'FACED, YOU IN LAST PLACE shirts and 50 women in $100 Lululemon pants. Women don't destroy gym clothing at the pace that men do, so they can afford to spring for that crap. We cannot. If I buy some nice adidas T-shirt with my own money, that is NOT gym wear. That is home lounge wear. Maybe even going out wear.
I think you're fine to wear old clothes at the gym for as long as is financially necessary. When you've made your millions and paid for your house and the kids have gotten through college and somehow you aren't a broke-ass piece of shit by the end of that process, maybe you can start buying proper gym clothes.*
(*Nothing in the above answer accounts for being a single gay man. If you're a single gay man and you go to a gay gym, I bet you gotta really keep up with the joneses and keep your shit looking tight.)
Email of the week!
In Minnesota, they have a School Safety Patrol Training Center called Legionville up north of Brainerd. Basically, it's a week long camp for elementary school kids who want to become crossing guards or on the bus patrol (nerd alert). When you are 9 years old, the bus patrol kids were fucking gods. I wanted in on that action and if this camp would help me get there, I was all in.
It was the summer of 92 and it would be my first time away from home. I remember getting home sick right away that night. It was a crippling. The next morning after breakfast, they had a kickball game for all the campers. During this kickball game – it all went wrong. Big time. I had to flee from the field mid-game and made a beeline to the bathroom but it was too late. I had shit myself. Not a solid shit, but the wet, sloppy nervous shit that a puppy has when you first switch to new dog food. I was terrified. I somehow managed to not get shit on my zubaz shorts, but my hanes underwear was a goner. I panicked and did the only thing I could think of – I stripped off my shit stained underwear, plopped them in the toilet and tried to flush it all away. It didn't work. In fact, it clogged up the entire system. The counselors had to ask each bunkhouse who did it. They had to call a plumber out. I never confessed to it. The cool kids at camp decided that it must have been the smelly kid, Sam. They started making fun of Sam for shitting his pants and trying to flush his underwear. I joined them in mocking him. The cool kids and I became friends and spent the rest of the week playing basketball, kickball and bullying Sam – the kid who supposedly shit his pants and tried to flush his own underwear down the toilet.
Drew Magary writes for Deadspin and Gawker. He's also a correspondent for GQ. Follow him on Twitter @drewmagary and email him at firstname.lastname@example.org. You can also order Drew's book, Someone Could Get Hurt, through his homepage.
Image by Jim Cooke.