There's gonna be some brave nutcase out there who ends up dating and marrying Amanda Knox. But who? If you were single, would you consider going out with an accused murderer? Would you give her a year or two to make sure she keeps her nose clean?
Knox is gonna attract all kinds of starfucking lunatics who will want to date her just because she's famous and maybe because they're turned on by the danger or whatever. You're gonna have to fight a whole lotta filthy shitbags to get your turn escorting her out for a night on the town. DON'T TAKE HER TO AN ITALIAN JOINT. I can't imagine it would be that easy to secure her digits. You're talking about a woman who just spent four years in prison and is likely traumatized by her ordeal. If I were her, I wouldn't leave my house for six years after I touched ground back in the US. I'd probably chain myself to my mother's leg and communicate with the general public by tapping out Morse code using the blinds in my bedroom. She's not gonna go on Match.com and trust any old asshole to take her out. You're gonna have to have an in with her family or one of her friends.
But I have to think most normal guys wouldn't bother to make that kind of committed stalking effort. Even if you find Knox attractive (and I think most people would rate her above Casey Anthony), and even if you eventually fell in love with her and became convinced of her innocence, you'd still have that nagging fear in the back of your mind that one night she'd slip out of bed, invite her Italian boytoy Guiseppe over, and get all Funny Games on your naive ass. And then you'd blurt out your suspicions during some kind of bullshit argument.
HER: You didn't wash the dishes!
ME: Yeah, well at least I didn't murder a British exchange student. YEAH I WENT THERE.
HER: How could you?! (runs out screaming)
ME: No, wait! I didn't mean it! You're not a killer! JUST LET ME LOVE YOU!
Now that I'm living on my own dime, I've been doing quite a bit more grocery shopping because restaurants are fucking expensive. The other day, I bought a one gallon jug of Hawaiian Punch, and I felt like a fucking god. Even though this is one of the most childish grocery purchases possible, it felt like the realization of actually being an adult. You know how when you're a kid, you have all these grand visions of what you'll be able to do once you're a grown up and nobody can tell you no? I felt like that massive jug of sugarwater was an epic triumph for my inner child. Victory at last. So, what things are you able to do now as an adult that represent your wildest childhood dreams finally coming to fruition?
Obviously, buying your own soda and candy is one of the great things about adulthood, as noted by Ryan Gosling. Buying your own booze is also a thrill. But the crown jewel is seeing a woman naked pretty much every day. Tell a 35-year-old man he's going to get married and he'll roll his eyes. Tell a 15-year-old boy there will come a day when he will have a woman around that he can see in the nude every day, and he will blow his crotch with excitement. It really is a miracle. And women don't quite get that. They'll walk around naked in the bedroom and you'll ogle them and they'll be like, "Hey, why are you staring at me?" BECAUSE YOU ARE NAKED AND I AM APPRECIATIVE OF THAT FACT. I don't want to become jaded and cynical and NOT be thrilled at the presence of bare body parts in my midst. That would be horrible. We should never take boobies for granted.
It's easy when you're a grownup to forget that being able to see breasts and buy booze is a great thing. I went to a dipshit prep school and while I wasn't all that wild about their rules against drinking and drugging and watching porn in the common room, man was it a fucking BLAST to break every single one of those rules. A Molson Ice tastes ten times sweeter when you have to create a phony Iowa drivers license with the name KNOX BRYANT on it in order to purchase it. The walk from the convenience store back to my dorm with the beer rattling around in my backpack was one of the more thrilling moments of my existence. I felt like I was robbing the US treasury. Now I can buy Molson Ice anywhere and be vomiting within ten minutes. And it's just not the same, I tell you. It's fun to break rules, which is why I hope to spend my retirement as an arsonist.
Watching the Spike TV Star Wars marathon. Luke saves his dad's life, they have a touching moment, etc. But it got me thinking: Why in the hell would Luke give a damn about his dad? It would be like Hitler having a son who rescued him from the Russians (or suicide, depending on what you think happened to Hitler) and then convincing himself that it didn't matter his dad was directly responsible for the deaths of at least 7 million people or more. I mean, I love my dad, but if he was a ruthless murderer, I don't know that I'm going to have a touching moment with him right before he kicks it. Probably would have a fairly difficult time forgiving him as well.
Well, Luke is a bit of a selfish twat, and so all the murdering of younglings that his Dad was responsible for take a backseat to Luke's personal journey of self-discovery. "I know Daddy butchered groups of Jedi school children and tossed Mace Windu out a 500th floor window, but WHAT ABOUT ME?!" They could have called the trilogy Luke's Anatomy and it would have been more apt.
HOWEVAH, while Luke spends a lot of time up his own ass, he did do the right thing. He aimed to redeem his father and succeeded, which resulted in the death of the Emperor, which saved the rebellion, which gave Luke the personal closure he so desperately wanted. If he never forgave his father and just went on pouting, he'd be even MORE of a bitch. Trust me, you don't want George Lucas going back and CGI'ing that shit so that Mark Hamill is more bitter and doesn't have all those car accident scars. You'd be upset.
What is the protocol on passing out/crashing at your newly married best friend's one bedroom apartment? We're 24, recently out of college, so of course we still party Thurs-Sun like we are still in college. One of my best friends has recently gotten hitched, and naturally still wants to keep the "single dude" in him alive. (Drink, smoke, golf, watch football, etc.) I use to crash at his place without a guilty conscious, but now that he is married I find it — and I would think this is normal — uncomfortable and evasive. Problem is, my friend misses those drunken, pizza-fueled, NFL Blitz marathons. He and his wife even implored that I crash and get shitfaced with them to save them from a night out with extremely boring people.
You have the opposite problem of most single guys who have a married best friend. It's usually the single guy who has no issue with crashing, and the wife who would like the single guy to GTFO so that the apartment can stop smelling like stale piss and used dumpling oil. That's always one of the first marital stumbling blocks, with the wife asking your friend to find somewhere else to crash and you begging her to reconsider so your friend doesn't think you're a pussywhipped asshole. I had a friend stay over at our apartment once who got shitfaced and fell asleep on the floor in the hall with his pants and undies off, lying in a puddle of his own urine. After that, the wife was pretty adamant about limited visits from drunken friends. And it's a nice arrangement, because you get to turn around and limit stays from her friends and relatives. It's a worthy tradeoff.
But you do get friends who bitch about the transition. Pretty sure that's the plotline to every Judd Apatow movie. As you get older, you get set in your ways. Any houseguest - friends, parents, etc. - becomes annoying after more than 24 hours or so because you feel pressured to ENTERTAIN them, to feed them and make sure they're having a good time and all that crap. They take you out of your normal routine, and old people like routine. Once they leave, you can go back to not talking and walking around with your balls out, which is nice. And the other annoying thing about it now is when you have a friend visit and you have to dance around the idea of them staying with you, offering up your joint for them to stay in but not actually wanting them to accept the invite.
YOU: Well, you can stay with us. I mean, IF YOU NEED TO.
HIM: Oh, no! No, I'd never do that. (lying)
YOU: No no, I INSIST. (said to emphasize that this was a genuine offer even though it was not)
HIM: Well, if it's not too much trouble...
YOU: NOTHING! Can't wait to see you!!!!
But if your friend's wife is cool with it right now? Stay all you like. No need to feel uncomfortable. Sometimes, married people love to have houseguests around because they get sick of staring at one another. Oh look! ANOTHER PERSON! So shiny and new! Thank God!
This is in my parking lot at work
Would you rather be short with above-average athletic ability, average height with average athletic ability, or tall and uncoordinated? I represent the first group since I stand at about 5'4" and while I'm not amazing I can play most sports (at least those not requiring an extreme amount of height/weight) with some facility.
This is not about extremes though, so you'd be short but not a dwarf and if you chose the "tall option" you'd be big but not Yao-sized. And not overweight, either - height/weight proportionate.
Well, I happen to be in the "tall and somewhat uncoordinated" grouping. Extremely uncoordinated, actually. And yet, I have managed to overcome that athletic disability and become a PROFESSIONAL DONG BLOGGER, which never would have happened if I were Muggsy-sized. Being tall is nice because you can look down on short people, and women will look at you with come-hither eyes when you reach up to fetch them soup cans from the top shelf. Plus, when you're tall, people happily proclaim your tallness upon greeting you. "WOW! You're tall!" No one says similar things to short people, because that would be insulting to short people, because they are small and be bruised easily.
But I'm not above wishing I had had decent athletic ability, particularly the ability to throw a football and run fast. I remember being in middle school and seeing kids who could throw the football and being jealous of them. Insanely jealous. A primal, horrible kind of jealousy. There were kids who could throw a Hutch ball a bazillion yards and it would make me hate myself. Why couldn't I do that? Why was I built so shoddily? How come it's so easy for them but I could work for years and years and I'd still never be able to throw it like that? The inferiority complex was massive. It doesn't bother me anymore because I'm older and I know better. But back then it really fucked with my head.
I think that's why I get pissy when announcers and sportswriters start writing about gym rat athletes like Dustin Pedroia or whoever else. They're peddling this giant lie that, if you scrappify hard enough and put in 20-hour days at the local Y, you could be like them. And it's BULLSHIT. Pedroia and David Eckstein and all those white unicorn athletes were born physically gifted. They could already run plenty fast and throw plenty hard before gritting their way to the top. If you worked as hard as them, you still wouldn't become a pro athlete. You wouldn't even come close. You won't magically become Wes Welker by hitting the gym for a year. I remember running the forty in college and having some awful time like 6.0. Something truly embarrassing. So I spent that year working out like crazy and dropping weight and running sprints in my free time. I showed up for two-a-days junior year assuming I'd run a 4.4. Some magical time that turned me into a world class athlete. I ran a 5.9. Genes are bullshit.
So it would be tempting to experience life as FACKIN WELKAH, but I'll keep the same useless skillz I have now.
Is there such a thing as 'too soon' when it comes to a fantasy football team name? For example - I just named my team the "Flying Lokomotivs" and was immediately accused of being an "insensitive prick". Am I in the wrong here?
I think anyone who says TOO SOON sincerely is a piece of shit. Who the fuck made you arbiter of what's appropriate and what isn't? OH NO! SOMEONE SAID SOMETHING INAPPROPRIATE ON THE INTERNET! If someone makes a joke that it legitimately too soon to make (like Gilbert Gottfried during the Japan tsunami), trust me, they will get the message loud and clear without your little notation. You're not stemming the tide of bad taste by declaring a subject off limits to someone on Twitter.
After surgery, I was scheduled to spend the night in the hospital. Hospitals these days have all sorts of amenities, including wi-fi. So as I'm sitting in the pre-op room, I can't stop myself from having the internal debate about whether or not I'll jerk it later in my hospital room. Of course, there would be the constant fear of being caught by a nurse stopping by to check in on you, but would it be worth it anyway?
Well, I assume the "fear" of a nurse busting in on you only adds to the temptation, since all men are hard-wired to believe the nurse in question will be a sexy, sexy nurse wearing a sexy, sexy nurse costume, then she'll come in and see you and tell you in a breathy voice, "You look like you need some help getting your fluids out," and then pitch in on the effort. That would only serve to egg you on, even if your nurse was actually a 400-lb. Dominican man named Miguel. If ANY of you have ever had an actual sex experience with a nurse or doctor while receiving treatment, I would like to hear from you, because you are a LIAR.
Anyway, I've seen hospital bills. So not only should you feel free to gratify yourself, you should be able to do it on your admitting form. Fuck hospitals.
Saw this one in a small town in Upstate New York, I believe it was the Village of Dryden. Shockingly, this place was out of business despite their heat and swiftness.
I saw this photo and quickly wished that there was someone out there with BEEF for a last name. So I checked the White Pages website and looked up people with that last name and here is what I found:
• Edward Beef
• Ken Beef
• Patty Beef
• King T Beef
• Uncle Beef
Uncle Beef is located in New York, but there doesn't seem to be a corresponding business with the same name. I find it hard to believe there's a person with the name Uncle Beef, but there you have it. GREATEST NAME EVER. I'd kill for that name. "Come on, Bob! Lend me five bucks. YOU'RE TALKING TO UNCLE BEEF HERE. You know Uncle Beef is good on his word." Ken Beef is also quite majestic. I hope he works in an insurance office. "You've reached Ken Beef at the claims department."
I have a very old computer and its always hit or miss whether the sound is going to work. Every time I turn it on and it makes the start up noise I do a celebratory fist pump because it means I'll be able to watch porn WITH SOUND. Even when it doesn't work, I'll still watch porn, but I find I get bored twice as fast and it takes me twice as long to get off just because I can't hear the sound of thighs hitting ass-cheeks. Half the time I think "why bother" and won't even go through the effort of pulling up porn if I know the sound isn't working. I also thought that maybe this was one of those women vs men things, where it makes a difference to us but men don't really care because they get to see naked tits bouncing around. How crucial is the sound for a porn viewing experience? Is it more or less important for men than it is for women?
I don't think any man has ever given up on watching porn just because the sound was failing him. Remember, I come from a generation of men that didn't give up on porn when the PICTURE wasn't working. When porn was a scrambled channel with a V-Hold that scrolled down faster than the end credits of a TV movie. When you weren't even sure if you were watching porn (is that a tit, or Pat Robertson's head?), but you assumed it was porn anyway and did your business accordingly. If we can power through that, we can power through anything.
But sound does MATTER. If someone queued up a porn movie and it featured nothing but ICP songs in the background, it would present a definite spankstacle. As would any male chatter, or over-the-top noises made by the female star. I mean, there are some female porn stars that scream like they're being fucking attacked, and that can be disconcerting. It won't stop any man from doing what he has to do, but it doesn't help. On the flipside, good porny music and convincing moans from the parties involved can make for SEXY SEXINESS. So yeah, men give a shit about porn sound, but not enough to actually quit.
I'd love to be a foley operator for a porn movie, if that job existed. "YOU GUYS! I CAN GET THE PERFECT BALL-SLAPPING SOUND BY SMACKING THIS HORSE WITH A SILICONE SPATULA!"
What is the speed of pee?
It depends on the size of your meatus (your dickhole) and the strength of your bladder, among other factors. You and I both know that the piss you take after being trapped in the car for six hours comes out all guns blazing, unlike a lazy Sunday afternoon piss you took because you were bored. A simple Google search reveal the average urine stream is 18mph. I would love to see a competition that put a radar gun to various men and had them try and clock the highest speed. I bet someone could top 25 or so. I wouldn't watch this competition, but I'd totally read about it in News of the Weird the next day. OOH LOOK! NORWEGIAN SPEED PISSING CONTEST! WEIRD!
Caught this gem in Alexandria today.
Something about the motorcycle in the back just makes it better.
On July, 11th (7/11), I go out with a friend or two and try to hit every 7/11 in the area at least once to get a free Slurpee from each. A few hours after the final Slurpee on this year's run, I shat myself. It was completely unexpected and obviously not enjoyable. It was one of those watery sharts that puts shit in places that you never want shit. It made me realize that the back of your thighs is one of the worst places to have your own feces (obviously besides the face). Is this means for me to stop the free Slurpee ritual, or are free 7/11 Slurpees worth shitting your pants for?
But was it a blue shit? Because that's what I'd want from a blue raspberry Slurpee binge.
I haven't had a Slurpee in a long time, because I feel like brain freezes get worse as you get older. I had a sip of my kid's slush puppy at Dutch Wonderland this summer and it gave me a 13-minute migraine. Plus, any time I drink a slush puppy now, the only thing I can think is, "THIS NEEDS BOOZE." Drinking fruity drinks without the booze feels like an incredible waste.
I'm sure this is unfeasible for any number of reasons, but wouldn't it be kind of cool if the NFL schedule were spread out more? Like, instead of having fourteen games on Sunday and two on Monday, you had three every night from Sunday-Thursday (if they still insisted on ceding Friday to high school and Saturday to colleges). I love the embarrassment of riches that NFL Sundays provide as much as the next guy, but you end up missing so much. And then the rest of the week is this barren wasteland. Wouldn't it be cool to have football on EVERY night? There must be some way to figure out the scheduling. Maybe if you play on Monday one week, you play on Tuesday the next, etc. I dunno, what do you think?
There are lots of reasons you wouldn't want that. The first issue would be setting your fantasy roster. It would be a nightmare and you'd never want to play fantasy again, I promise you. If you were counting on a guy to play Sunday and he was a surprise inactive, only 26 other teams had already played that week, you'd burn down league headquarters. Part of what makes the NFL fun is the buildup to Sunday. You can make fantasy moves. You can spend all day calling into radio stations and demanding that Andy Reid be fired. You can catch up on other things in your life, like "Breaking Bad" or your little dipshit kids. You need that break. They have college football on every day of the week now, but I'm usually hard-pressed to watch a Tuesday night game between Utah and Fresno St. You never want to kill a good thing by having too much of it. Unless that good thing is sandwich pepperoni. You don't want football becoming an every-night commitment, the way baseball and the NBA are. It's hard to be a fan of those leagues when you're old and you have other shit to do. The NFL, as it is, is just right. They played that Tuesday game between the Vikings and Eagles last season, and it was WEIRD. I was happy my team won, but it was fucking weird.
I was reading a Jets blog (in which case what follows should surprise precisely no one) and a forum about Joe McNight. Halfway down, I get this beautiful screenshot. Maybe he shaved this masterpiece into his hair to demonstrate what Sanchez (or Greene) has done to our hopes this year? Or he's from northern New Jersey.
That's just astonishing. Email of the Week time:
So my best badass moment in my life so far is when I was a bartender in college. I started to notice these two guys arguing and just kept an eye on them. So I'm about to make a drink and am by one of our well drink spots which was to the immediate right of our beer taps when I notice one guy pull the other down by his hoodie. I leaped into action and launched my self over the bar. Just clean over the bar that was a good size bar, probably about a foot and a half at least. Didn't knock over anyone's drinks, or the straws, hit or clip anything. It was a clean vault like I was in the Olympics or something. I then go and grab the guy's arms from behind and proceed to kick him out, all before our bouncer had a clue what happened. The adrenaline was pumping pretty hard and I couldn't stop shaking for what felt like forever. I ended up getting a few numbers that night. Needless to say this is going to be tough for me to top for the rest of my life, unless I put my Krav Maga training to the test. I was 21-22 at the time and from the looks of it I hit my badass moment peak. But I can live with that, I never thought I'd get to feel like I was in some movie scene.
Not a bad way to go out, my friend.