Can You Eat A Full Meal Without Drinking Any Liquid?

Illustration for article titled Can You Eat A Full Meal Without Drinking Any Liquid?
Illustration: Jim Cooke (GMG)

Today, we’re talking about weed, toilet paper, golf, fucking to John Tesh, and more.


Your letters!


Is it acceptable to have no beverage with a meal? Like a juicy steak dinner?

If you can survive a full meal without any fluid to drink, that’s fine. I won’t judge you. I will however, stare at your place setting and spend the whole meal thinking to myself hey, he’s not drinking anything. Doesn’t he at least want some fucking water? And I’ll definitely ask you if you want something to drink, and then you’ll say no and then I’ll be like, “O….kayyyy,” and then go back to staring at you in puzzlement.

I am terminally thirsty, and I don’t mean that in terms of booze or approval. I just take in WAY too much fluid in general, and even more so during the course of a meal. Two bites of lo mein and my throat acts like I’ve been wandering through Death Valley for a month. So I cannot personally conceive of sitting there and eating a whole dinner without anything to drink. Like I said, I won’t judge people who can pull that off. I’d be more awed than appalled by their water retention abilities. I bet their urine looks like fucking molasses. Same consistency, too. It’s acceptable but I can’t possibly recommend attempting it.

By the way, kids are much more brazen about this than adults. I’ll watch a little kid double-fisting burgers and they won’t need a drop of water. In fact, they’ll get MAD at you if you offer one. They’re deranged. How kids live past age eight is beyond me, especially the ones I have to raise.


What are the chances that a miracle napkin-tissue-paper towel product exists? Like one that can do it all? Ever try to use a tissue as a paper towel? You’re better off using your hair. Paper towels shred your nose and clog the toilet...what’s the deal? Is such a mythical thing impossible or is it BIG PAPER holding us hostage?


I’m sure the enterprising minds at Procter & Gamble enjoy offering 76 different paper products for 75 specialized uses, but I do think that cleanup paper varies in stock and strength for a reason, toilet paper being the prime example. Toilet paper has to degrade when wet so that it won’t clog your pipes when you flush it down. This is why it’s useless for virtually any non-ass wiping purpose, save for blowing you nose when there are no Kleenex handy.

After that, you have in jack up the integrity of the paper in small increments. Next up in strength are the aforementioned Kleenex, which are strong enough to handle a sopping wet booger rocketing out of your nostril at 80 mph, but are apparently bad for flushing down the toilet if you believe this site called Hunker. I did NOT realize this. I have been flushing Kleenex for years. Uh oh. God only knows what kind of chaos I’ve wrought in this house’s crawlspace with all my chunky turds and used tissues. It’s all gonna come shooting out of the toilet like a cannon at any second.


After that, you step up to napkins, which need to be a little stronger than tissues but also have to look nice. Adorning your dinner table with Bounty napkins that have a tasteful floral pattern printed on them pleases both the eye AND the tummy. After that, you get to paper towels, which range in durability from wholesale generic-brand paper towels with all the strength of marathon finish line tape, to Scrappy® brand ones that could clean up a fucking oil tanker explosion and cost $87 for half a dozen.

I don’t think there’s a magic paper out there in the ether that can clean up anything but also be gentle on your starfish AND dissolve upon disposal. I got Wet Ones for dirty kid hands. I got baby wipes for tricky poop scenarios, both theirs and mine. I got honey-do list pads that my wife strangely demands only be used for honey-do lists, like they’re sacred parchment. I got too much fucking paper. I’m just gonna buy a single ShamWow at Target and use that for everything, like I’m Jim Tomsula.



I get the impression that you are a golfer and golf fan/watcher, or at least more than what you let on. Are you, and is there any particular reason you’re “hiding” your love for the impossible, frustrating game of a lifetime?


No no, I’m an out and proud casual golf fan. I watch the majors whenever I can. I worship at the altar of Mario Golf and Golden Tee, like a bro forever stuck in 1999. But I have to keep the game at a remove because, due to back issues, I can no longer play it. This is a shame because golf has always been the preferred method of suburban dads like me to shirk parenting duty for five-plus hours every weekend, and also because I liked playing it. Golf is fun, especially if you accept how much you suck at it, which of course I never accepted. Nevertheless, I liked getting angry at a very small ball and blaming my score on the course layout rather than my own physical shortcomings. That is enjoyable to me.

I also liked playing with my old man and buying Cheetos whenever the cart lady rolled past. We used to play together on a course with a third hole that went up a lush green hill and I would hum “No Rain” to myself as we strolled up it, every time. As Jim Nantz has proven, golf lets you shamelessly indulge the cornball within. Shanks or no shanks, it’s not the worst way to spend an afternoon. I miss playing with my dad and getting extremely huffy anytime he politely offered me swing advice. Never got old!


By the way, Brooks Koepka won his fourth major last week, and while I’m sure he’s a swell guy, he looks like the Big Ben of golf. Nothing he can help, but when I see him out there I just picture doofy Big Ben blaming caddies for his errant drives and scanning the gallery for porn stars for the President to fuck. I don’t care for this Koepka fellow. He can eat shit.


How many people have had sex to the NBA on NBC theme song? A game being on in the background don’t count. I’m talking specifically played that song to bone to.


At least two people have put on “Roundball Rock” while getting laid, and those two people are John Tesh and Bill Simmons. I’m not saying they were fucking each other while it was playing. Tesh was likely with wife Connie Sellecca (whom Donald Trump has almost certainly claimed had “very strong interest” in him), and Simmons was likely with a VHS copy of White Shadow or something.

As for normal(ish) people, yeah I think there are basketbloggers out there who have put that theme on and fucked WHILE wearing a Penny Hardaway jersey. There’s nothing basketball people love more than telling you how much they love basketball, so I see no reason why they wouldn’t carry that very public corniness into the bedroom. I would also tell you that some asshole Lakers fan out there has had sex while simultaneously playing an NBA game on PlayStation that features that song, but it appears it was never licensed for videogames. Pity? Anyway, every piece of music in history has been fucked to, even “Friday.” Horniness knows no taste.


By the way, some people bitched because Fox brought “Roundball Rock” back for college basketball this past winter…


People need to stop being slaves to their own nostalgia. I CAN’T BELIEVE FOX WOULD RAPE MY TEENHOOD LIKE THIS. This is why movies suck now, because everything has to be designed to replicate an old fanboy feeling that died a longass time ago. Intercourse aside, I’m fine with Tesh’s jingle being put to new use. It’s not my fault Fox seized upon it before anyone at ESPN or TNT thought to do likewise, preferring whatever generic horseshit they currently use instead.

The ’90s aren’t coming back. Get over it already. The ’90s were shitty to begin with. I was there. Hootie & The Blowfish were big. So were Tevas. No one will ever be able to precisely recreate the past the way you want them to, so let it go. If modern times means listening to “Roundball Rock” in new settings, such as in your bedroom, or over a regular season Big 27 game, so be it. Let shit evolve.



My farts smelled so bad that they WOKE ME UP in the middle of the night. It took me at least 15 minutes to fall back asleep. I know this isn’t a question, but I just wanted you to know.


I’m glad you did, but I also have to tell you that I’m not sure I believe you. If you have video evidence of being roused by sour flatulence, please send it directly to me.


Post-Halloween domestic quandary: What’s the right way to begin carving a jack-o-lantern? My partner and her whole family cuts out the top and uses it as a neat little lid with a handle on it. I was trained to carve out the bottom for easy placement over a candle. Preliminary research indicates I’m in the minority - the prevailing opinion being that top-hole pumpkins last longer. That doesn’t hold water for me, which I made sure to voice. Anyway, you can’t un-ring a bell and I’m now a pariah. Do I deserve it?


I have never heard of cutting a hole in the bottom of the pumpkin before. I’ve always cut a hole in the top for a cutesy lid, and so that I can get hollowing out the thing out of the way, because scooping out pumpkin guts is wet and disgusting. I see the strategery in doing it from the bottom instead, but then it would be hard to subsequently gut your jack-o-lantern if you had to stand it upside down with the stem handle still there. Also, if you use a regular candle inside, wouldn’t the lack of a top hole deprive the flame of precious oxygen from directly above?

Honestly, I’m just thinking of ways to rebut your method because I’ve always done it the other way and making a hat-o-lantern seems weird and spoooooky to me. Do you, in fact, wear the bottomed-out pumpkin on your head and scream out “LOOGIT ME I’M CRAZY PUMPKIN HEAD NOW GIMME SOME CANDY!”? Because I would.



I tell my dog I love him multiple times a day. I want him to feel secure in the knowledge that he is a good boy. On a scale from 1 to Lady Who is Eaten by Her Cats After She Dies Alone, how insane am I? P.S. I’m 30 years old, married, and childless, if that helps in this calculus.


That’s extremely standard dog owner behavior if you ask me. Every dog person becomes an Insane Dog Person at some point. Even I have. My asshole dog sent me to the doctor for a tetanus shot after he bit me, and yet I now dote on the fucker like he’s Pu Yi, The Last Emperor. I scratch his tummy. I spoil him with cheese. My family went away this weekend and on the ride home I was like I can’t to see the dog again! I bet he’ll go INSANE when he sees us because he’s such a good little boy! Meanwhile, we pick him up and he just runs around, looking for someone to feed him more cheese. He loves us, but really only as conduits for very small cubes of supermarket cheddar.

It doesn’t matter. I tell the dog I wuv him every day, in part because a trainer told me to praise a dog a lot when he IS a good boy, so that he continues to be one. But it’s also because it’s fun. When your dog is in the right mood, which is fairly often unless your dog is Cujo, you can smother it in love and affection. You have permission. You can be slavish and overbearing to all you like, and some dog owners take full advantage of this. I don’t carry mine around in a tote bag and spend all day teasing his hair, but plenty of other people do because their particular dog won’t stop them from taking full liberties when it comes to full-on spoiling.


This is because it feels nice to love something so totally, and also because the more love you shower upon the dog, the more convinced you become that the dog loves it and needs you ALL the time. You are now the center of its universe, even if all it really wants is a plate of leftover scrambled eggs. My daughter always picks up the dog off the couch and hugs him and I’m like, “Don’t do that! He was happy just sitting there!” And she’s like, “No he loves it when I do this,” and then she keeps doing it even though he audibly growls when she does. Again, this is normal dog owner shit. Every dog owner is really just a dog stalker.



You shit yourself at work during a meeting. It’s obvious to all present—they can hear it, smell it and, as you run out of the room, see it. Do you quit your job? If not, what’s your return to work plan?


I do not quit my job if everyone sees me poop my pants. I freelanced for so long that my boss would have to murder my dog (but he was such a good boy!) before I quit a job without a new one ready on deck. And even then, I’d probably hesitate. America, right now, is littered with millions of people who work under circumstances that are the labor equivalent of being forced to shit on a conference room table in front of everyone, and they don’t quit. They don’t quit because money is money, and because their current health care benefits, even if they suck, are enough to keep them tethered in place.

Or they don’t quit because, and this is worse, they have deluded themselves into believing that their boss’ mission is righteous and that their boss’ cause is their own. The Trump administration is LOADED with assholes like this. Trump will literally ask them to eat his shit in a meeting and tell him it tastes like a club sandwich. You guys love to eat my shit, right? Some people will commit very very bad crimes to do it, is all I’m saying. But let’s not go there for now. And they really DO love it! It’s a nation of Darren Rovells: people fully divesting themselves of their humanity to live in the uncanny valley of a brandroid, swooning over some horribly misbegotten business idea or political cause. No one should ever work at Facebook, but of course they do. You have to sell off your morals to earn a living at a lot of places. BUT DEFINITELY NOT GREAT HILL PARTNERS NOSSIR.


I’m sorry, I’ve gotten way off track. You were talking about me shitting my pants in a meeting. Again, I would not. I got kids to feed. Also, assuming I work in an office when it happens, my “incident” would basically guarantee that no one ever talks to me or wants to hang out with me ever again. PERFECT. That’s an ideal work situation for me. I might develop extreme paranoia and assume anyone talking in low voices is talking about the time I laid a sloppy joe in my trousers in the middle of a meeting. And I might have to deal with office bros being like DUDE YOUR NAME IS POO MAGARY NOW LOLOLOLOLOL. But again, if the end result is everyone otherwise avoiding me, that’s well worth the price. I should shit in a meeting my first day and get right to the blissful solitude part! Knowing me, I’m always bound to embarrass myself at work in some fashion regardless. May as well be the pant-shitter. Beats being the office sex creep.


Now that weed is legal in any place anyone would want to be, how do I, a forty-year-old dad, smoke weed like a grownup? It’s been since college and from what I’ve seen, the weed business has changed dramatically to an actual industry where I’m expected to make decisions and have opinions on things. Or is it too late and should I just go back to drinking scotch and opining on IPAs like every other guy my age?


Who says you gotta smoke weed like a grownup? The whole thrill of smoking weed in your forties is acting like it’s still illegal everywhere and that you’re still a dirtbag teen for firing up a joint out in the woods where no one is looking. YOU STILL GOT IT, BABY. YOU’RE A REBEL!

Anyway, you don’t have to become a weed snob to get into weed at a late age. Some adults prefer cheap beer (as I have with great enthusiasm) and greasy fast food and all other manner of low-class garbage. No reason you can’t treat weed the same way, buying cheap schwag and openly mocking picky stoners who will only smoke their preferred strain of Triple Zombie Scrote from the local dispensary.


I will tell you that, as someone who is newly green and sober, that it’s probably smarter to just smoke cartridges now instead of smoking weed the old-fashioned way. I am deeply fond of the latter, both because of nostalgia and because I (probably mistakenly) believe it’s a better high, but it’s too fussy and stinky if you have kids around. Better to just skip old-school joints and bowls and bongs and go right to vaping sour peach Mongo Buttmunch brand oils. Then your kid can be like “What’s that smell?” And you can be like, “It’s daddy’s new cologne!” You can also get into edibles even though I don’t like eating half a gummy bear and then getting hit on the head with a hammer.

I try to keep my weed purchases very simple but I do know that I prefer sativa over indica. I told a clerk at a dispensary why and she was like, “Oh, you want Do Stuff pot!” And I did. I wanna feel bouncy. I told her that the last nugget of sativa I bought from her place made me feel like I was riding a bike even though I wasn’t riding one, and that I wanted whatever I bought from her on that day to do that again. And she was like, “Whoa, that sounds SO COOL.” She was high as balls. Good clerk!



Can we rank the best Hitlers in the history of film and television? I’m going with Last Crusade Hitler first, because they make him look idiotic without giving him any lines.


It’s the late Bruno Ganz in Downfall, a role that got meme-ed into oblivion but is almost certainly the definitive Hitler portrayal. Ganz was so good in that movie that having “definitive Hitler portrayal” on his resume wasn’t even a bad thing!

It’s not easy to do a serious portrayal of Hitler on the screen because A) He was a monster, and B) He was an inherently ridiculous man: deeply paranoid and prone to long-winded, melodramatic rants that read as hate-mongering first and self-serving nonsense second. So it’s not easy to make him feel REAL even though, to mankind’s extreme detriment, he very much was. I’m on board with Charlie Chaplin or whoever else satirizing that piece of shit into oblivion. But Ganz blew past all that and committed to recreating the whole man, in all his ugliness. That it ended up itself being used for web satire was an inevitable irony.


But for real, go see Downfall if you haven’t. It’s one of those great movies that you’ll NEVER want to see twice.



Do you and the missus drink before showing up at a social engagement? My wife and I find ourselves drinking before events providing alcohol such as her work holiday party, dinners involving either of our parents, and other events in public we kinda dread. Is this normal pre-partying behavior or do we have some kind of social anxiety?


PRE-GAMING! Who doesn’t love a little pre-gaming, AMIRITE? When I was in my 20s, I looked forward to the pre-gaming more than the actual going out. You can drink all the tall boys you want. You can crank up Andrew W.K. It’s delightful. I was like WE ARE GONNA RAGE TONIGHT GENTLEMEN before stumbling to a bar at midnight, throwing up in the toilet there, and then stumbling back home without coming close to getting laid. Great, great years I was living through.

Anyway, I kept on pre-gaming well after that, whether my wife joined in or not, because A) It’s fun, and B) Why not show up at a function slightly (or, okay, VERY) lubricated and ready to mingle? Why WAIT to have a cocktail? You’re a grown adult living in a free country. Knock back a few before you go to that funeral and then you’ll be ready to be the life of the party. If anything, older people pre-game even more than younger people. I’ve met old fogies. They don’t need an excuse to start drinking. They get right down to business.


Email of the week!


So this morning my boss calls. We’re talking but there’s some background noise and as it gets louder I realize it’s moaning. Well my boss is currently in Korea and it’s night time there so who knows where he is or what he’s doing. It keeps getting louder and I realize it’s got to be porn but I don’t judge, because again it’s Korea and who knows what sort of place he’s been dragged out to by work associates. It is however very distracting and we’re trying to have an important conversation. Finally as it’s getting really loud I realize that I was the one watching porn on my phone but for some reason the video didn’t stop and the audio turned on when I answered the call. I immediately closed the window and continued the call. I hope to God he couldn’t hear it or at least couldn’t tell what it was.


Our man Victor has been there, amigo. Stay strong.

Drew Magary is a Deadspin columnist and columnist for GEN magazine. You can buy Drew's second novel, The Hike, through here.