Before we get to the Funbag, two things. First of all, I'm on vacation next week. So we're gonna have another guest Funbag host to answer all your questions. To send a Funbag submission to our guest host, just email the tips line. The good thing about submitting questions to the guest host is that you get to skip over the three-week backlog of questions I have in my inbox. I'm lazy.
Secondly, perhaps this new commenting system baffles and confuses you. HOWEVAH, the good news for you is that the Head Gay has ordered all us Gawker writers to be more active in comment section or, as I've been mandated to call it, the "discussion section." So yes, let us DISCUSS. Let us don tweed blazers and sip fine brandy and discuss the finer nuances of what would happen if it came to light that Tim Tebow was a terorrist. Now, your letters:
OK, so the pit bull mafia gets a hold of you and forces you to eat pit bull poop (let's say an average size dog poo, 3 inches or so). They may be angry, but they also feel bad torturing you, so they allow you to put one topping of 5 ounces on it. What do you choose?
I kind of want to say wasabi or something so it might dominate the poo taste, but eating this poop might kill me so why not just throw some peanut butter cups on there, because that's the best candy in the world and if you disagree then fuck you.
You couldn't choose wasabi, because five ounces of wasabi would end up killing you. You'd want something that ideally masked the flavor of the turd. But let's face it, there's no masking that. And there's little hope of finding a topping that would pair well with dogshit, because dogshit is such an overpowering ingredient. Even Scott Conant's dreaded red onion wouldn't be able to match it. I think the only choice would have to be some kind of soft serve ice cream. It would go down easily, plus the cold would help numb your mouth while sucking down that greasy shit. You don't want a hot topping for dog poop. Trust me. And while you think a spicy topping would help shield you from the poopy taste, it would just make plowing through it take longer and ENHANCE the bold poopy flavors.
Actually, forget the soft serve. I'd coat it with five ounces of Baby Orajel. It's a numbing agent. Sometimes, I put the baby's Orajel on my own lips, strictly for the vicarious thrill of feeling like I just left the dentist.
While shitting at work today, I nearly make a tragic mistake. After I dropped a nasty shit, I decided, fuck this day, I'm going to stay in the bathroom for a while and read so I don't have to go back to my office, a technique I'm sure nearly every working male has utilized.
So, deciding to camp out, I did the only acceptable thing and gave myself a courtesy flush. I did not wipe at this time. I perused on my phone for a while, and when it felt appropriate, decided that my bathroom vacation must come to an end. It had been a good 25 minutes. I checked the damage in the toilet, and saw nothing, forgetting for a moment that I had already flushed. Thus, I started to pull my pants up...BIG MISTAKE. I still had not wiped, but by some miracle, realized this inches before disaster. Moral of the story: if you're going on a shitcation in the bathroom, always wipe early.
Noted. I think we can all agree that it's a sound idea to NOT sit on a toilet for 25 minutes with pieces of fudge ripple cake lodged in your crack.
I have a three-year-old and the three-year-old is mostly toilet trained. He can go to the bathroom and pull his pants down and take a whizz and then flush the toilet, which is all well and good. He can also drop a deuce in the toilet. The only problem is that he doesn't know how to wipe yet. And sometimes, when he goes to the bathroom, I forget to ask him if he's taking a dump or of he's just taking a whizz. I just leave him to do his business and forget all about it.
So one time, the three-year-old went to the bathroom and I sat there checking Twitter because I'm an awesome parent. Half an hour later, he's out of the bathroom, zooming around the TV room on his scooter when I smell poop. And then it hits me.
"OH CHRIST, DID YOU GO POOPY?!"
I plucked him off the scooter and the entire seat was smothered in shit paste.
I picked him up and ran with him to the bathroom, unloading an entire package of Pampers wipes and furiously cleaning his butt. Then I grasped him by the shoulders and interrogated him:
"Have you sat down ANYWHERE else in this house?"
"Just the scooter?"
"Mmm hmm. The scooduh."
"ARE YOU SURE?! LIVES DEPEND ON IT."
Then I put the scooter outside and asked my wife to clean it. I'm a man. Anyway, don't forget to wipe your ass, regardless of what age you are.
Is there anything worse while dining out than the appetizer(s) 'for the table'? Especially when you aren't particularly friends with the people at your table. It's one thing if you're with your buddies and encouraged to eat like a pig, but trying to not look like a derelict and figure out who gets how much of which appetizer makes getting one a lot less fun.
You know those nice Italian restaurants that have a full menu of appetizers and entrees AND an entire list of pizzas as well? Well, whenever I go to one of those restaurants with my folks, my mom will ALWAYS order an entire pizza for the table and then not take a single bite of it. Don't get me wrong. I'm a big fan of my parents buying me lots of food and then paying for it. But the "entire pizza" appetizer is a killer. Because everyone else at the table is nice and mannered, and they collectively eat a grand total of 1.5 slices. Meanwhile, I have to fight every urge in my body to wrap the entire pizza around my dick and fap with it. I always end up eating the eight other slices and disgusting everyone around me. Beware the starter pizza.
A few weeks ago, I was required to sit in a series of meetings in a hotel conference room near an airport for three days. It was very uneventful and boring, but I did get to see the slide in the photograph attached to this email at the start of every module.
Unfortunately, I was the only one who appreciated it, but at least it made the entire experience slightly more tenable.
Holy shit, look at that slide. Some of the type is sideways! What kind of cruel corporate drone does that to an audience?
I feel like people should have to get a federal license in order to present Powerpoint decks. If your Powerpoint deck ends up looking like a goddamn kindergarten craft project, you should be forbidden by law from boring people to death with it.
UPDATE: Yes, I know the slide says PERFORM FAP on it. It needed no further elaboration from me.
Do you think there has ever been a scientific study as to weather large people are more disgusting poopers than normal size people? I'm like 5-11, 170 and I can WRECK a toilet. But when I see a bald fat guy waddle in, I'm like oh shit, call hazmat. Is this discrimination?
Not really. Your dietary habits play a large role in how messy your turds are, and it's reasonable to assume that a fat person has that lousy dietary habits needed to drop down five gallons of vinegar diarrhea in the next stall over. That's not always true, of course. Skinny people are just as capable of eating poorly. But I can tell you as someone who has experience losing a great deal of weight that you do end up spending less time on the shitter. When I was 280 or so, I could spend hours sitting on a toilet, laying down some endless stream of French cabbage soup that would take eight rolls of paper and a BP cleanup crew to disinfect. But when you eat better, the end product is usually a bit cleaner. You wouldn't want to douse it in soft serve, but it's a more pleasant toilet experience, doubly so with the Metamucil.
However, in an ironic twist, my farts smell worse than ever. So there's that.
Idiots jump on the field and get crushed by 300 lb security guards all the time. How long do you think Barry Sanders in his prime or Chris Johnson or Messi or whatever rugby player is fast would last if they jumped on the field during a MLB game and just tried to elude security? 1 minute? 5 minutes? I assume they would only get caught once they were fatigued. Thoughts?
Obviously, it depends on the number of security guards involved. Even Barry Sanders would have a hard time slipping away when surrounded by twenty men, regardless of what shape those men are in. There's no one blocking on that play. He will be caught. In fact, I have drawn a graph that represents the time it takes to catch Barry in relation to the number of guards sent to fetch him:
The y-axis represents time. The x-axis represents the number of guards. The penis I drew represents a penis. Anyway, zero guards never catch Barry, nor does just one. But once more and more guards are added, the faster he's caught. In fact, the rate of his getting caught accelerates with each guard added. You could do a whole calculus derivative of this, but I got a C- at calculus and don't really understand it. Still, look at the penis!
Say an angel comes down and tells you that Tim Tebow is plotting a terrorist attack that is going to kill thousands of people, none of which are your family or friends.
You are the only one that knows about it and the only one that can stop it-by putting a bullet in his head. The catch is that if you decide to go through with it you will be convicted of the murder of Americas favorite son, and any attempts you make to explain your situation make you look like a nutball. Do you let those people get what is coming to them, or do you suck it up and accept the lifetime prison and anal rape to become the unsung hero?
I would probably resort to alternative means and take to the airwaves WARNING people that Tim Tebow was plotting their demise. That way, I would be able to either A) Prevent the attack or B) Be able to say "I told you so" once the attack has happened. Nothing makes a sportswriter's dick harder than to predict something and then look all smart for having predicted it, and I'd be no exception there. The bombing would go down and then I'd run around screaming I TOLD YOU HE WAS EVIL BUT YOU DIDN'T LISTEN! It would be far more gratifying to expose Tebow as a fraud than to save thousands of people from burning to death. NO ONE DENIES THIS.
I live in an apartment. Every time I throw eggs or sauce or old milk down the garbage chute I often wonder: What kind of disgusting cocktail of leaked garbage has collected at the bottom of that thing? How much money would it take for you to eat a tablespoon of this shit? I say 25 grand should be enough for me to do it.
That's a hard bargain. I'd accept those terms. In other news, having a garbage chute is one of the big perks of apartment living. You couldn't get me to empty the garbage fast enough when I lived in an apartment. Chuck a bag full of chicken juice and old underwear down six stories? FUCK AND YES, PLEASE. The time between putting the garbage in the chute and hearing it hit the bottom of the chute were some of the most exciting moments of my time living in New York (I didn't get out enough). I loved putting brittle objects in there as well. One time, I put a VCR in there and heard it shatter at the bottom. It was great. I wanted to go buy another one right away and throw it down as well.
Sometimes, the garbage bag would be too big to fit in the chute, and so I'd have to really pound on the fucker to get it in, and then sometimes it would burst and leak garbage juice all over me and then I'd get all mad and be like SCREW YOU, BAG. Then I'd kick the fucker and it would finally go down and I felt as if I'd just successfully tamed a grizzly bear. There should be more chutes in life: garbage chutes, bank chutes, mail chutes, poop chutes... They're the best. My old building in New York had a mail chute that they didn't use anymore, and I had to fight against cramming my mail down it anyway.
It's time to expose the terrible truth about figs: they're not crunchy just because of the seeds. This is horrifying. Can we still eat Fig Newtons in good conscience?
Well, let's see...
In figs of this sort, the crunchy bits in the fruit contain both seeds and wasps.
Is there any way I can undigest all the Fig Newtons and Fig Newmans I've eaten in my life? Because I want to divest myself of my entire Fig history.
By the way, Fig Newtons are the single crumbliest entity ever devised by man. One bite and your lap looks a goddamn beach. They need to engineer a less crumbly Newton, and not the Fat Free ones. Those are brutal.
Spotted in Santa Barbara. I might have gone with Dr. Spank for added gravitas.
Or what about MC Spank?
If jizz had the clean-up requirements of oil-based paint, how much would you fap? I mean you would need a drop cloth and solvents for Christ's sake. You would totally know when someone has painted something as there is always paint on their nails or the back of the forearm that takes a while to flake off. So you would know who has wanked or was just very lazy at clean-up. Shit, who wants a 30 minute clean-up process while you are in a post solo-coital haze?
I'd probably buy a Jackson Pollack sized canvas and a step ladder and go to town. Just imagine jizz art....during that period I was really into cubism....and ATM. It really comes through in the piece.
I don't think people would alter their habits all that much. You would just have to be real swift with the Kleenex. No more, "Eh, I'll just go paint the toilet seat and worry about cleaning it up when I'm done." You can be lazy like that with semen as its currently constituted. "Hey, I'll just wipe that up with my undies. TIDE ERASES ALL MISTAKES." Not so with jizz paint. You'd have to get your timing down or else risk getting paint on your ears. But no man is gonna be deterred from his beloved fappage. No way no how.
HOWEVAH, you didn't ask what the complications would be for the world of sexual intercourse with actual women, and that be a problem. No girl wants jizz paint all over her apartment. Think of the mess, not to mention the disapproving looks from mom and dad. You'd have to wear a rubber at all times, and God help you if that rubber breaks on you. Like a pen leaking through a shirt pocket. You'd never hear the end of it.
I read somewhere that the Polish language has entirely separate words for "wizard" and "evil wizard". I don't have the energy or motivation to research this beyond typing it into Google (results: inconclusive) but if true, it makes me wonder what the Polish know that we don't.
Well clearly, Poland is plagued by Evil Polack Wizards who will magically transport you into a helicopter ejection seat.
There are plenty of words in English for evil wizards, by the way. Like Necromancer. That's a wizard who bangs dead people (NOTE: Definition not reliable!). And then there are sorcerers, who are also always evil. No sorcerer sorcers good things. They always sorcer MEAN things, like giant bugs and three-headed shit demons. Avoid necromancers, sorcerers, and warlocks. Especially if they're Polish. I don't trust that Voldemortinski.
A couple of weeks ago, I attended an academic awards ceremony at my daughter's junior high school. Seated in front of me in the auditorium was the single hottest mom I had ever seen-truly stunning. After the ceremony, I literally dragged my daughter around to various places around the room to pose her for cell phone photos that captured Hot Mom in profile in the background, because (a) I'm sick and (b) I figured I would just crop them for appropriate inspirational use. Well, try as I might, there was no way I could completely eradicate my daughter's image from the photos.
I haven't been able to convince myself to use the photos for their original intended purpose. That said, is the fact that I haven't deleted them sufficient to ensure my eternal damnation?
First of all, let's all salute Tony for going the extra mile in trying to take a picture of the woman in question in order to ogle that picture later on. Most of us would be content merely with the memory of this lady, but Tony wasn't taking any chances. He wasn't gonna rely on his BRAIN to save that image. I really do admire his sticktuitiveness.
Anyway, I think that Tony didn't try hard enough to eliminate his own child from the shot in question. There are things you can do other than cropping to excise a child from a photo. You can Photoshop Tweety Bird over the child. You can replace their head with a Troll Face. Or, best of all, you can clone the Hot Mom's butt and then lay multiple clones on top of your child, turning her into a Butt Child. Problem solved. There's nothing sick about that at all!
Seriously though, the fact that you're hesitant to "use" those photos is probably proof that you should never "use" them directly. If I were you, I would use the photo strictly as a refresher course, and then construct a fully realized mental fantasy from there. That's the healthy, respectful way of doing things.
I saw this car on my way to Subway this afternoon.
I fear he's just a Cadillac salesman.
I hate any website that feels compelled to put my password in little ****** characters. It's bad enough for banks to do that, but I logged into ESPN Insider last week and it put those fucking *****'s for my password, which I inevitably screwed up typing halfway through it. Instead of knowing which part I messed up I had to delete the whole damn thing and start over.
The worst part is that, any time it tells me that I filled in my password wrong, I assume instantly that someone has infiltrated my account, taken it over, changed the password, and is digging through all the fanmail I sent privately to Samantha Fox. It's terrifying. And if I botch the password a second time, the terror increases sevenfold. By the third time I enter it, I'm eyefucking the keyboard and punching the shit out of each individual key to ensure a proper password entry.
I also resent any website registration that forces me to enter my email twice. You have it once already. Stop making me fill in extra shit. I got it right the first time, you dick.
If you could see the reactions of friends, family, and loved ones right after your die, would you want to?
Oh God no, that would be the saddest thing ever, and that's the BEST CASE scenario. The worst case scenario is that you shut your eyes for the final time and then everyone throws a rager because they thought you were such a huge prick. You know, like when Jay Mariotti dies.
I was at the Scripps National Spelling Bee. Suuuuch an awkward live event. There's a PA announcer, but the one and only thing she does is announce when ESPN has gone into a commercial break. And we can't hear the ESPN announcers either. So when they cut to Sage Steele and that other dude in the makeshift studio in the back of the ballroom, no one tells the audience what's going on. The event just comes to a silent stand-still, and we sit and wait for something to happen.
Also, no one in that room, save for maybe the judges and Snigdha's family, knew that she had won. Wasn't until 30 seconds later when the confetti erupted that we figured it out. And also, after the show there was a mini press conference with the winner. She said she puts in 6 hours/day of Bee studying on weekdays, and 10-12 hours/day on weekends. She's 14. I died a little inside. Never fun to see how the sausage gets made.
10 hours a day on weekends? Christ, that's awful. The scary thing is that the Bee only has ONE winner, and so you're talking about hundreds of entrants who put in just as much hard work only to leave with their spirits crushed, emotionally scarred for life. That's horrible. We talk about how much football destroys your head, but what of spelling, I ask you? Shouldn't spelling korrektly bee illegul? I thunk soap!
What animal do you think produces the absolutely worst smelling farts? Do you think humans even make the top ten?
We humans make the top ten because we eat so many different processed foods that animals never touch that a human fart is something of a freakshow to the rest of nature. A quick Google search reveals that dogs and cats are terrible farters because "their anal sphincters don't close as tightly as humans'." So now you know that a loose anus leads causes bad farts, which means you shouldn't hang around Elton John after he's eaten a meal.
Email of the Week time. It's a GREAT MOMENT IN POOP HISTORY!
Back in high school I was driving down to Ohio State with some friends for a college basketball game. We were halfway there and stopped at a rest stop because one of the guys had to take a dump. So we stopped and I had to piss so I went into the rest stop bathroom with my friend.
So I am taking a piss and my buddy goes into the stall. Midstream I hear an "oh my fucking god" from my friend. I was just thinking that someone had left a massive log unflushed so I began to laugh and say something to the effect of just flush it down. He comes out from the stall and says you got to see this. I was hesitant but my curiosity got the best of me. So I zipped up and walked over. I could smell it before I got over there. I then peered into the stall...
On the wall behind the shitter it was like something out of a horror film. Smeared in shit was the following message "you are out of toilet paper".