Should You Shave Your Child's Unibrow?

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I have a 2-year-old that has a bit of a unibrow. Not an Anthony Davis unibrow, but noticeable. Does it make me shallow and superficial to secretly want to get it waxed or use some sort of hair removal product on it?

Of course not. It's perfectly acceptable to stare at your children and pick apart their physical appearance. As someone who was teased and struggled to make friends in elementary school, I have the deep-seated fear that my children will suffer through the same kind of bullshit, and so I frequently examine them for possible weak points for other children to exploit. Are their teeth properly aligned? Are they lacking in facial symmetry? Are they fat? No seriously, are they getting fat? I think I saw a little tummy jiggle in the tub last night. God, please don't let them be fat and unhappy and left alone to cry on prom night PLEASE GOD NO.

So yeah, I know the feeling. The problem is that you can't obsess over that sort of thing. At a certain point, your worries begin to take their toll on the child. In an ironic twist, you bestow upon them the insecurity you never wanted them to have, and then they turn to drugs and hooking. So leave that unibrow alone. If the kid wants it plucked 10 years from now, let them decide. Otherwise, their first memory will be of Daddy holding them down and raking a Gillette Venus across their forehead, and that's probably bad.


Drew Magary writes for Deadspin and Gawker. He's also a correspondent for GQ. Follow him on Twitter @drewmagary and email him at


Is it possible to kick somebody out of your long-standing fantasy football league and still remain friends with them?


I doubt it. I was in a league this offseason that ousted its commissioner. We banded together and started a new league without telling him, and since then we haven't heard a word from him. And the longer he goes without responding, the more I fear he's purchased an arsenal and is preparing to hunt us down one by one, to murder us all and chop us up and hang us out to air dry for jerky meat. It could happen. Unless the reasons are obvious (your friend never adjusts his lineup anymore and shows a clear disinterest and would probably be relieved to be kicked out), it's a friendship-killer.


No caption needed.




Why hasn't ESPN learned how long a college football game takes to broadcast? I don't think I've watched a game in the past three years that hasn't gone at least 40 minutes past its allotted time slot. I'm sick of having to set my DVR to record an hour and half beyond the end of the program to make sure I see everything. Just allow at least 3.5 hours, and if for some reason a random game ends a few minutes earlier, send it back to the d-bags in the studio until the next time slot starts.


Even funnier is that CBS finally moved the start time for 60 Minutes this fall, but they only bumped it ahead half an hour, so it STILL gets delayed virtually every week. I know that NBC has first dibs on certain highlights for its terrible pre-game show, but CBS could still extend postgame coverage to 8 p.m. and show stats and recreations of game footage using Claymation monkeys.

Of course, you can go too far with this. If you record a game on Sunday Ticket, DirecTV usually assigns it a timeslot that's roughly seven hours long. And then the DVR is like, "You cannot record this AND Nick Jr. AND Real Sex all at once!" And then you're like FUCK YOU, DVR! I WANT WHAT I WANT. And then you have to manually adjust the recording so that it stops 90 minutes earlier, which is so totally inconvenient. Meanwhile, eight Syrian rebels were murdered in the time it took for you to read this paragraph.



You can hook up with any one girl of your choosing. The two catches are that you have to choose the girl from a particular venue and you only have 15 minutes to pick her. What kind of venue do you choose? The Mall of America on a Saturday? Florida football game?


In other words, what venue will offer you the finest selection of women? The obvious answers are either the Playboy Mansion or a strip club/nightclub, but I'd also recommend virtually any casting session. I was at a casting session once for a TV ad, and after the actress left, the director turned to me and said: "Goddamn, the rack on that one. I'm trying to stay professional here, but JEEEEESUS."

So yeah, never let your daughter become an actress.


I love Five Guys' fries, but let's be honest we all go there for the orgasm inducing burgers. Well, my biggest problem with this surplus of fries is for some Godforsaken reason, they decide to put the burger at the bottom. So naturally I stick my hand in that bag of freshly cooked food digging for that burger, but I always end up getting third degree burns from those little bastard fries. Seriously, fuck that guy who decided, "hey lets put the best part of the meal at the bottom of the bag and see how many morons it takes to figure out how to get it out unscathed." What's the best way to attack this dilemma?


The ideal way to deal with problem would be to grab a tray, rip open the bottom of the bag, and let all the food fall out onto the tray, leaving you easy access to the sweet, juicy, meaty burger tucked inside. The only problem with this plan is that Five Guys, at least in my experience, has NO TRAYS. This is a serious fucking problem, because I always count on my fast-food joint to give me a tray. The tray provides me with the critical illusion that I'm eating off a clean surface. I have no fucking idea if they wash their trays or if they just leave them for hobos to sleep on. All I know is that I'm eating off a tray, I feel safe, and if I'm eating off a bare table, I feel like I'm eating garbage right off the street. WHERE'S THE TRAY? THIS IS NOT AFGHANISTAN!

Whenever I go to McDonald's or some other fast-food joint, I try to make sure I get trays for everyone, because if you don't, then you either try to end up sharing a tray (horrible), or fucking someone over by forcing him to eat right off the table. Ever lay down a napkin as a makeshift placemat at McDonald's? Here, let me unfold this napkin and dump all the fries on top. That'll totally keep the E. coli away. And ripping apart the bag and eating off of it is even worse. Must we live like this?



How does this happen? Seriously.....I am confused.


Maybe he did it on purpose. Like an NFL player with a towel hanging from the back of his pants. He could have that little napkin ready any time he needs it.

Seriously though, this does happen to the best of us, though perhaps not in such obvious fashion. I mean, we've all gone to take a shower before and discovered—with absolute horror—a wad of TP that wasn't fully removed the last time we were taking a shit. That's such a terrible moment. How could I have failed to notice this? How long has it been there? Did anyone see it? OH GOD.


I went to a prep school and one of the games we played was called Spa-TING. You threw a ball around and if you dropped it, you had to pull your pants down, hold the ball between your legs, and jump around in circles screaming out Spa-TING! Spa-TING! Spa-TING! (Note: Prep schools are fucked-up places). Anyway, we're playing this outside one day and one kid drops the ball and has to drop trou. And when he started Spa-TING!ing, there was a ribbon of toilet paper streaming out from the leg of his boxers. Then we all pointed at him and died laughing. I'm sure he's told his therapist about it.


Would you rather...

A) Be an All-American running back on a National Championship college football team, but never see a down in the NFL?


B) Be a rookie starting running back in one season-opening NFL game, play well (maybe 105 yards rushing and a touchdown), and then immediately get injured after the game, never to play again?


The answer is A, because you'll be remembered forever and have perennial access to your college campus and all the attractive co-eds housed therein. Boosters will bend over backwards to give you no-show jobs. Local radio stations will hand you your own show even if you can barely speak English. You'll be able to live your life pathetically basking in the ever-diminishing glow of your own past. That would be AWESOME. That beats having Samkon Gado's life. Who cares where Sam Gado is now? Screw that guy.


Would you rather receive oral sex every day immediately when you wake up, or immediately before you go to bed?


Upon waking up. Get it first thing in the morning, and it carries you through the entire day. Plus, you aren't spending all day preoccupied with your upcoming blowjob. Hard to concentrate when you know that's in store for you. I want to enjoy this hamburger, BUT MAN THERE'S SOME HOT MOUTHSEX COMING MY WAY FAP FAP FAP. You'd spoil your sexual appetite six times a week. Best to enjoy the evening, drink until you pass out, and then wake up to the goodness.


Last week at my bachelor party, 10 guys went out to lunch at a casual restaurant. When I was done stuffing my face, I engaged in my usual routine of "throwing in the towel" - taking my napkin off of my lap and placing it on my plate - in an effort to stop myself from further overeating. Have you ever taken the napkin back off and resumed eating?


I have, and it's so depressing. You feel like a complete failure. You also get angry at yourself for throwing the napkin on your food too early. LOOK HOW YOU MADE ME FEEL, YOU DICK. I've put the napkin on my plate, carried the plate to the kitchen, and then removed the napkin IN the kitchen and then feasted on the leftovers by the garbage can. It's repugnant behavior. That napkin is meant to be a hard line that transforms your dinner into garbage and prevents you from eating it. And yet, that only makes me want it more. I have issues.



If you had to chose one calendar month to stay sober, what month would be the easiest?


The obvious answer is February, since it's the shortest month. But February has the Super Bowl AND it seems like the longest month of the year, which makes abstinence difficult. A skilled alcoholic uses virtually any occasion to celebrate, and every month has its share of festive occasions:

January: NFL playoffs
February: Super Bowl
March: NCAA tourney
April: First glimpse of warm weather
May: Memorial Day
June: General summer drinking, vacation
July: Fourth of July
August: Horrible awful end of summer, drinking needed to pass the time
September: Football again! DRANK.
October: More football, World Series
November/December: Holidays


As you can see, that's a packed drinking calendar, and it doesn't include obvious drinking occasions like birthdays, weddings, job promotions, finding a quarter off the street, and such and such. I'll be perfectly honest and tell you that I don't feel the need to drink EVERY time I watch football these days. Sometimes, you'll be at a bar drinking on a Sunday afternoon watching the NFL and you'll just feel bloated and grimy. Doubly so if it's a Steelers bar. Ever hit that drinking wall at 6 p.m., when your hands are soaked in wing grease and you just wanna fucking die? It's awesome. So I'd probably take January or February. Only a fucking idiot would dare attempt the October-December gauntlet. It can't be done.


When was the last time a president got shitfaced?

Has to be Clinton. He was in office just before and then during the birth of the Internet age, so there was enough time for him to get in a few nights of drinking and pinching asses before the whole world was watching.


Go back further and further in history and it's easy to find sitting presidents who were drunk all the time. Grant was a notorious lush. And I saw Nixon and Anthony Hopkins is shitfaced throughout that entire movie. THAT'S HISTORY AND SHIT. Back in the day, the president was both a head of state and also a perpetual host, entertaining dignitaries and captains of industry and all that. And what do you do when you have to host a party every night? YOU BE DRANKIN'. Nowadays, the poor bastard in office could barely have a second beer without a fucking pool report going out about it. Oh, how I yearn for the days when presidents could guzzle Old Grand-Dad in peace and get real shit done.


My boy jerks it in the sink. Swears by it. Is that okay?

But the toilet is right there! What's wrong with using the toilet? Doing it in the sink increases the danger of clogs, and then you'll have to take out the drain plug and pull out a 3-inch-diameter cum-soaked hairball. No one wants to deal with that kind of horror. Tell your boy to learn to use the toilet. And if he misses and nails the underside of the toilet seat, well, that's half the fun.



Written on the side of a urinal in Beaver Lake, Nebraska. I have nothing to add.


That feels much truer now that I've seen it scrawled on a urinal.

By the way, they remastered some of those old Whitesnake songs, including "Still of the Night." NO NO NO, DON'T STOP A-ROCKIN'! If I've been drinking late at night, I still like listening to the guitar-with-a-violin-bow part of that song. And you know what? IT'S FUCKING AWESOME. I drive an imaginary Camaro 150 mph with Tawny in the passenger seat next to me and I feel like a real man. Oh babe, oooooh ... AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!



At any given moment, how many books in a college library have secret messages slipped into the pages? I'm just wondering how many books I'd have to randomly open to find the hidden treasure/track down a spy/discover a lost work of Shakespeare.


The real number is almost certainly far smaller than it ought to be. That's why you should spend an entire evening getting shitfaced and then running around the stacks of your library, putting cryptic messages into as many books as you possibly can. FOLLOW THE JADE ELEPHANT. THE FLUTED MAN SEES A STAR IN THE BLUE DAWN. IF YE BE LOOKIN' FER TREASURE, GET THEE TO THE POOPER. Stuff like that.

By the way, one of the small joys of college is when you get shitfaced on a night when you have no work to do and you go over to the school library for three minutes to thumb your nose at all the suckers who still have to study. Look at you pathetic chumps, still chained to a carrel all night long. I'm free, bitch! I'm gonna swear out loud and distract you from learnin'! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!



UPS just buzzed my apartment and I was taking a shit. It was the worst experience of my life.


They always know exactly when you're taking a shit. Ditto with your mom calling you on the phone. I have certain friends and relatives who know to call at the EXACT wrong time, either when the kids are screaming or I'm trying to fap or whatever else. Oh, Drew must be in the bathroom with his pants around his ankles. I better call him right this instant.


Two god-awful trends in one.


Oh, dear Christ. The scrawling-school-pride-messages-on-your-car thing is designed specifically to make other drivers feel depressed and lonely. I'm not on any team. I don't have kewl friends decorating my car for me. HOW DARE YOU RUB THAT IN MY FACE?


Do you think the Obamas have tried anal? No way Lady Bird Johnson let Lyndon go five-hole on her.


A recent study said that over 40 percent of American women have given anal a shot (no pun intended). However, that study didn't include an ethnic breakdown, and supposedly anal sex is more taboo among black women than it is white women. WHAT A BUNCH OF PARTY NON-POOPERS. So I'm gonna say "no" to the Obama anal question. Even if the president tried to phrase it in the most delicate terms possible ("I think we need to plant a carrot or two in the back garden"), I don't see it.


In 30 years when all of the baby boomers are dead, will antiquated ice cream flavors like maple walnut, butter pecan, and heavenly hash cease to exist?


No, because hipsters will bring them back in new incarnations. Instead of "butter pecan," it'll be "stone creamery butter with lavender-glazed pecan" ice cream. I'm sure butter pecan tastes great, but I NEVER order old flavors when I buy ice cream. I'm constantly looking for a new kind of mouthgasm. Triple Golden Oreo? YES PLEEEEZ.


NFL QBs are supposed to be great leaders, right? Assuming they all had equal intellect and business acumen, based solely on leadership traits, which NFL QB would you pick to be your boss in an office? Assuming equal positions on the issues, which would you pick to be the President of the United States?


You wouldn't want Peyton to be your boss because he'd yell at you all the time. Same with Marmalard, and Cutler would be even worse. "Here's my TPS reports. Do them all. I'm fucking out." Brady and Rodgers would both be too aloof, and Brady would never, ever hang out with you after work or invite you to his house to ogle his wife and swim in his pool. Big Ben would audibly fuck his gross secretary in the bathroom twice a day. And Eli would be a lousy boss because you'd look at him every day and be like, "How am I not HIS boss? That stupid asshole." Best to choose an agreeable fellow like Drew Brees, Matt Ryan, Matt Stafford, or Robert Griffin III. Or I'd choose Sanchez because I'd know I could eventually take his job. Matt Schaub would call in sick at the worst possible time. Ever have a boss call in sick and stick you with a bunch of shit you don't know how to do? AGONY.

For president, I choose Vick. Just because. Seems like it would be fun.


I just sat down for a deuce at work, and I spot this little scary bastard crawling toward me. He waited until I was most vulnerable to try to sneak up on me. This was a premeditated spider attack! I can only hope he wasn't working with accomplices who plan to finish the job.


The problem with that kind of spider ambush is that it ruins you for shitting for, like a week. They toy with your mind. The next time you shit, you'll picture a thousand spiders coming up through the drain and clawing their way into your asshole to lay spider eggs. And then, eventually, the fear subsides until the NEXT spider attack, when you must relive the horror all over again. Spiders are the worst.



What single food item would kill you the fastest if you ate it and only it with water to drink three meals a day? I say Sour Patch Kids.


That's as good a candidate as any, since the lack of vitamins in Sour Patch Kids would probably lead to you dying of scurvy. But Sour Patch Kids still have calories, which would provide a starving man with at least some semblance of energy to burn. The same can't be said for terrifying zero-calorie diet foods like Nooodles. That shit will kill you instantly. Sour Patch Kids are practically a vegetable by comparison.


what are the odds that the average American adult has eaten part of a dog or cat without their knowledge in their lifetime?


If you eat Nooodles, 100 percent.


Is there any better feeling than unexpectedly getting to leave work early? My apartment always looks so much brighter when I get home a few hours early. What's the best way to use this extra time? I like to turn it into an extended jack-session followed by a second lunch.


It's even more fun if you purposely don't tell your girlfriend or roommate friend before you get home, so that you can either A.) catch them in the middle of making love to the super, or B.) bask in his or her delight at seeing you earlier than expected. IT'S ME! I'M HERE! YOU DID NOT THINK I WOULD BE HERE SO EARLY BUT I AM! Leaving work early and having a beer and a nap before 5 p.m. will add two years to your life. That's science.


What is the best way to shave my pubes at college while living in the dorms? Should I sneak into the bathroom late at night (shared with half the floor)? Should I wait until my roommate leaves and lay down a towel?


Why not do it in the library?

Seriously though, if you're using some kind of portable electric trimmer, you might as well just do it in the shower, with the curtain drawn. Then if any guy asks what you're doing, you can just be like WHAT YOU WANNA LOOK AT MY COCK, BRAH? YOU'RE SO GAY, BRAH! And then he'll back off because he's a meathead. If you're feeling extra daring, do it in the girl's bathroom. If a girl wants to know why you're there, you can explain it in sexy terms and ask her if she wants to help, and then she'll nail you good. Or have you arrested. Either way, EXCITING.


Email of the week time.


Have you ever gotten someone's work voicemail and it begins "Listen carefully to the following message...?"

In that moment, I'm fully prepared for the next part of the message to be something along the lines of: "...I don't have much time; they're onto me. I've uncovered proof that THE CHINESE ARE PLANNING A FULL SCALE INVASION. They expect to launch the first missiles in less than 48 hours. If you're hearing this, you are America's only hope. In my office, I've hid the intel on a flash drive; you must get it to Col. Hal McAllister (played by Louis Gossett Jr.) at Fort Eagle as soon as possible. He is the only person I trust, and he's the only person you should trust. The flash drive is hidden in—-*door bursts open*...*loud orders barked out in Mandarin*...*multiple gunshots*...*end of message*"

Of course, the actual following message is some asshole telling you they're going to be in Cabo for the next two weeks and to forward all messages to their fat fucking secretary.


Even worse is when your doctor's office demands you listen carefully "as menu options may have changed." I'm convinced they switch around the menu options every week just to make you miserable. I had the whole path to getting an operator down cold last week, and now it's all ruined. I hate you.